thimble

 

 

poem by Conrad Ferdinand Meyer translated and recreated by Ruth Salles

Who knows, tell me where
Does thimble live?
There in the valley, far, far away,
where a river flows.
Since I was a little kid,
already brought the hunchback.
at your swaying step
nothing resembles,
and your chin, when sitting,
hits the knees.

Braid the reeds and weave the baskets.
That's how the day goes.
When ready, will sell them
for the parish.
And he is very happy,
but just say all these people
that he is a witch and understands deeply
of weird herbs,
and that the souls of the other world
are your servants.

None of this is true.
Everything is poorly told.
But the people, near him,
gets goosebumps.
Neither the old nor the young
want to see your awkwardness.
But just like me and you,
up and down the hill
our little blue thimble,
swinging the hat.

Once, when I came back
from hard work,
right in the middle of the walk
it was already dark.
He wanted to rest there
under the moonlight.
Thimble is not afraid,
the dark forgets.
don't get home early
is what annoys you.

And suddenly, astonished,
voices he heard!
Come from the green meadow
light melody.
“The silver boat sails…”
And then they don't sing anything.
Thimble spies attentively,
but only realized
that the song that flies in the wind
didn't scare him.

Again the little song
sounds up there,
but the rhyme that would have
is not heard.
“The silver boat sails…”
And again they don't sing at all.
The song belongs to the elves.
Does she ever change?
Thimble, decided,
want to help them.

The words come
and he listens attentively.
Badly, however, they end,
follow them up.
“The silver boat sails…”
“… without having oars, without having anything!”
"What a joy!" – are screaming.
"He managed!"
And a little people, jumping,
right there it appeared.

And the elves, in ciranda,
they call Thimble:
“Have courage, go, go!
Sing your little verse!”
“Fly the silver boat
without having oars, without having anything…”
“I learned, my little singers
what was heard.
Oh, what a cute verse,
much longer!

Little man once more
let us look at you!
In front and behind
we will examine you.
Oh, we are amazed!
What do you have on your side?
Sad load you carry...
This intrigues us.
In a good body it is expressed
a worthy soul.

thoughts of joy
you have it in your head,
but I don't like it when you waver
under the hump.
Those limbs, let them stretch!
How straight the body is!
The hunchback, where is she?
Can't see!
Long live the new straight spine!
Long live the new being!”

Suddenly the merry round
back to the green meadow,
but from afar you can see
the rhyming chorus:
“The silver boat sails,
without oars, without having anything.”
Very tired, Thimble
dream of your home,
but listen to the little song,
takes a nap.

All night passed,
and he slept there.
Sleep until the bright sun
on the horizon spies.
Cows and sheep graze
there in the elf meadow.
Thimble got up,
firm already shows itself,
and lightly the hand passed
behind your back.

“It will have been an uncertain dream,
or am i cured?
And if the cure comes from the elves,
lasts in the golden sun?”
And grope, grope, grope,
but the spine is straight and high!
“I am a straight man!” –
sings Thimble.
Leaps joyfully across the meadow
like a deer.

Suddenly stop and play
– shakes his hand –
“Oh, won't she come back?
Oh, don't come back!
I praise the day when, singing,
I went with the elves circling.”
Thimble walks slender,
go as one who flies,
since the round with the elves.
What a good night!

 

 

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