Luxembourgish Poems
This excerpt from the famous Luxembourgish epic Renert deals with a scandal which had happened three years prior to the publication of Michel Rodange's book:
Pierre Frieden was priest in the Luxembourgish town of Marnach. In 1869, rumour had it that he had sexually seduced young people of his parish. The Catholic newspaper Luxemburger Wort defended the priest and accused the plaintiffs to be asocial beggars whose word could not be trusted. The police investigated, but Pierre Frieden was tipped off and escaped to the monastery of Aachen in Germany. Sentenced "in contumatium" (meaning "while being absent"), he emigrated to the United States where he continued to serve as parish priest.
In the poem, the sly fox Renert brags about his exploits as "shepherd of Marnach". Reynard, as he is known in English, is a figure in many European satirical novels, among them the Medieval French Roman de Renart by Pierre de Saint-Cloud and Goethe's Reineke Fuchs.
Fourth Canto |
Véierte Gesank |
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[...]
And then they made me shepherd
In Marnach near the street,
There oftentimes a lambie
Gave flesh and soul to me.
Whenever I could a kiddie
Caught in a corner snatch,
I went and took it for me,
I dragged 't behind the hedge.
Complaining came the peasants,
"It was the wolf," said I,
And helped them, nice and pleasant,
When they began to cry.
But then they smelled a rat there!
't was through an beggar's boy,
He'd seen me grab and patter,
Had proof to kill my joy.
In uproar was the country,
The government, law places,
Police and foresters sundry,
And all those angry faces.
Dear priest, my friend, you see,
A Christian, pious, good,
Gave ample warning me:
And thus escape I could.
My friend then filled his paper
With lies to knock them down,
He almost with his labour
Conned every judge in town.
He knew that I was guilty,
He swore that I was not,
But then came lambs, oh, twenty,
Who vowed and talked a lot.
And thus I was convicted
In contumatium,
I feel not much afflicted,
Cause back I will not come.
In Marnach all through town
The cock after mass crowed:
If Renert were our own,
We'd hang him, not a doubt.
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[...]
Du maache se mech Schéifer
Zu Maarnech op der Strooss,
Do huet dann dack e Lämmche
Mer Leif a Séil gelooss.
A wou ech konnt erdappen
E Bëtschel an ëm Eck,
Do goung ech mer et schnappen
A schleefen hanner d'Heck.
A koumen d'Baure kloen,
Da sot ech: 'T war de Wollef,
A foung een un ze kräischen,
Dann hunn ech alt gehollef.
Op eemol sténken d'Lompen!
'T war duerch en Heeschebouf,
Deen haat meng Grëff a Gesten
Gesinn, a munnech Prouf.
D'ganz Land war op den Bengen,
D'Nékloshaus an d'Geriichter,
D'Gendaarmen a vill Fieschter.
An all déi schro Gesiichter.
Mäi Komper, kuckt, Här Pater,
E fromme, brave Chrëscht,
Dee koum mech avertéieren:
Du sinn ech dann entwëscht.
Drop huet fir mech mäi Komper
Seng Zeitung voll gelunn
En hätt, mortjen, mam Schwieren
All Riichter bal bedrunn.
E wosst der Saach mech schëlleg,
A schwiert, ech wär et net;
Du koumen zwanzeg Lamer,
Déi zeien dat an dët.
Drop gouf ech du veruurteelt
In contumatium;
Ech duecht: Dir kënnt mech klibbren,
Sobald ich wiedrum kumm.
Den Hunn goung nach trompetten,
Zu Maarnech no der Mass:
Wa mir de Renert hätten,
Mer hänkten hie gewass.
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The following three poems I translated for the Luxembourg-American Cultural Society in Belgium, Wisconsin. If I remember correctly, they needed them for an exhibition in their archives.
The first two are nineteenth-century songs in honor of the Virgin Mary, who is traditionally venerated in Luxembourg. Even if you are, like me, not religious, the child-like faith of the pious lyrics is moving. Or maybe it's just because I've known these songs since I was a little girl. :)
The third poem, Theissherrchen, is taken from Wilhelm Weis' poetry collection Geseent Stonnen. 1956. p 12.
O mother dear in Heaven |
O Mamm, léif Mamm do uewen |
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O mother dear in Heaven
I love you more than all
Your name is deeply graven
Into my heart and soul
Your name is deeply graven
Into my heart and soul
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O Mamm, léif Mamm do uewen
Ech hunn dech eenzeg gier
Däin Numm ass mir gegruewen
An d'Hierz bis an de Kier
Däin Numm ass mir gegruewen
An d'Hierz bis an de Kier
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Mother, I can't begin to say |
Léif Mamm, ech weess et net ze son |
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Mother, I can't begin to say
How good I feel with you
Mother, with you I want to stay
Until my wish comes true
Mother, our heavenly lady
Let all your children with you be
Oh, walk with them all, hand in hand
And bless, and bless our Luxembourger Land
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Léif Mamm, ech weess et net ze son
Wéi gär ech bei dir sinn
Léif Mamm, ech kann net vun dir gon
Bis ech erhéiert ginn
Léif Mamm, du hëlleg Kinnegin
Looss all deng Kanner bei dir sinn
Géi du mat hinnen Hand an Hand
A seen, a seen onst Lëtzebuerger Land!
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Our Master Theiss |
Theissherrchen |
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Our master Theiss is gone from Earth.
He's lying in the room back there.
Until the good Lord called him forth,
He had a lot of toil and care.
No hair on Theis is now astray,
And in his best black clothes he's dressed
Today's a very festive day
As if he were a weddding guest.
No ticking of the clock hear we.
Both time and Theiss's spirit are
Now resting in eternity
From his old farm, so far, so far.
The cows and horses at the trough
Stop feeding and their heads they shake,
Not far awaits an open grave
Tonight we gathered at the wake.
The barn is full with wheat and oat,
The harvest was so good this year.
Each sheaf a heavy, golden load,
The wine inside the cask is clear.
Our master Theiss may be content
His bony hands have done their bit.
Outside, two big black horses stand,
Let's gently close the coffin's lid!
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Nun ass Theissherrchen iwer Äerd.
Dobannen läit en an der Stuff.
En huet vill Kräiz a Leed gehäert,
bis onser Herrgott hie geruff.
Si hunn Theissherrchen schéi gemaach,
säi schwaarzt Gezei him ugedon.
'T ass haut e feierlechen Dag,
wéi wann hie géif op d'Hochzäit gon.
Am Aureschaf keng Onrou geet,
Mam Herrchen ass entschlof och d'Zäit.
Säi Geescht ass an der Éiwegkeet,
vu sengem Haff sou wäit, sou wäit.
D'Kéi stinn an d'Päerd vrun hirer Raf,
't huet hinnen haut net gutt geschmaacht.
Um Hank, do waart en eidelt Graf.
An hënnt hunn d'Leit an Theiss gewaacht.
Am Scheierdenn läit d'Fruucht um Kaascht.
Et gëtt däer Maler vill dët Jor.
Jidd Gaarf eng schwéier, gëlde Laascht.
De Wäin am Fudderfaass ass klor.
Theissherrchen kann zefridde sinn,
déi knacheg Hänn hunn lo hir Rou.
Zwee schwaarzer Päerd dobausse stinn.
Nu maacht seng Lued ganz roueg zou!
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