| PA
              German Dialect
         
        Es Neinuhr Schtick 
               
                                                                            
         June 
        23, 2005 
  
 
                
                  
  Ihr liewe Leit: 
   
   Ya, ‘s iss Yuni. Un was bassiert efders in dem Munet Yuni? Wie der 
  John Birmelin uns saagt in seim Gedicht “Der Yuni”: 
   
   
  Der Breiticham holt sich en Braut. 
  Im rosiche Yuni gedraut; 
  Un Hochzich muss sei, 
  Mit Yubel debei! 
  Un alles watt luschdich un laut. 
   
   
   Awwer wie lang watt die Luschdichkeet dauere besunners wann, wie 
  mer saagt, die Lieb iss blind? Mer misse widder zum Birmelin geh, desmol zu 
  seim Gedicht “Die Lieb iss Blind’: 
   
  Die Lieb iss blind, 
  Des kann net annerscht sei; 
  Do kummt mer gschwinnt 
  In aller Druwwel nie. 
   
  En zaarder Blick. 
  Noh kummt der Liewesschmatz; 
  O, was en Glick! 
  Wie’s zawwelt do im Hatz. 
   
  Ken Abbeditt, 
  Sie hen ken Freed am Esse; 
  Un saag was d’witt, 
  Des hen sie glei vergesse. 
   
  Sie heiere dann, 
  Der Himmel hengt voll Geige! 
  Un Voggelgsang 
  Der Zwitschert aus de Zwiege. 
   
  En Mann un Weib, 
  Die misse sich verdraage; 
  Sie sin ee Leib, 
  Hen awwer doch zwee Maage. 
   
  Nau sehnt er ei  
  Er hot net alles gsehne; 
  Sie weess a glei 
  Ass sie sich net verschtehne. 
   
  Sie hot gemeent 
  Sie greecht en schmauder Engel; 
  Doch was sie sehnt 
  Iss yuscht en wieschder Bengel. 
   
  Er hot gedenkt 
  Er kennt sie yuscht so esse; 
  Er hett gekennt – 
  Er wott, er hett sie gfresse! 
   
  Die Lieb iss blind – 
  Des wisse sie nau selwer – 
  Sie warn zu gschwinnt, 
  So wie zwee yunge Kelwer! 
   
  En unglicklicher Eheschtand? Mer misse neegscht Woch weiderlese. 
   
  Macht’s gut, 
  Der Alt Professer 
  | 
                  
      Dear people: 
       
   Yes, it’s June. And what happens often in this month of June? As 
      John Birmelin tells us in his poem “June”: 
       
      The bridegroom gets himself a bride, 
      Marries in the rosey month of June; 
      And there must e a wedding, 
      Along with shouting! 
      And everything gets joyous and loud. 
       
   But how long will this joy last, especially when, as we say, love 
      is blind? We have to go to Birmelin again, this time to his poem “Love is 
      Blind”: 
       
      Love is blind  
      That can’t be any different; 
      One quickly gets 
      Into all sorts of trouble. 
       
      A tender look/glance, 
      Then comes the pain of love; 
      Oh, what happens! 
      What wiggling in one’s heart. 
       
      No appetite, 
      They don’t enjoy eating; 
      And say what you want, 
      They’ve forgotten it right away. 
       
      They then marry, 
      Heaven hangs full of violins! 
      And the singing of birds, 
      They twitter from the branches. 
       
      A man and a woman, 
      They have to stand each other; 
      They are one body, 
      But they have two stomachs. 
       
      Now he realizes 
      That he didn’t see everything; 
      She also knows immediately  
      That they don’t understand each other. 
       
      She meant 
      She was getting a smart angel; 
      But what she sees 
      Is just a lousy fellow. 
       
      He thought 
      He could just eat her; 
      He could have – 
      He wished he had eaten her! 
       
      Love is blind – 
      They know that now themselves— 
      They were too hasty, 
      Like two young calves! 
       
      An unhappy marriage? We’ll have to continue reading next week. 
       
      Take care, 
      The Old Professor 
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