A somewhat literal translation of a Pennsylvania Dutch poem, "An Apron" by John Birmelin.  This translation was made by Daniel E. (Bart) Bartholomew on February 17, 2001.  If any reader has suggestions for improvement of the translation, please send them to me. 

An Apron

John Birmelin

I opened up the (dresser )drawer,
where I had been looking,
then something fell into my hand -
that pulled (tugged) at my heart.

It was my Mother’s apron,
the one she often wore;
Yes, if it could tell us (something),
what (all) would it say? 

It took me far,
so far into the past, to my childhood years;
There I already rested in the apron
and I was barely born.

There I slept at my Mother’s breast,
and so that nothing would wake me,
no wind blow around my delicate head,
she covered me (with the apron). 

By that apron she guided me
gradually through life;
Like when I could walk a little,
there I would hold on to (the apron). 

And oh, how I was so shy (afraid),
if strange people were in the house;
I’d hide under the apron
and look out from behind.

If one of us would cry a little,
a misfortune happened to us,
here comes Mother with the apron
and dries our tears.

 And later, when we were bigger,
we boys and the girls,
then we would play tricks
as it often goes.

We’d sneak behind (mother),
open the apron strings,
and when the apron fell down,
then all of us laughed.

 And also, to be devilish,
we knotted the (apron) strings;
She would sometimes catch us,
then we’d really get it.

Nevertheless Mother was good to us,
provided for our needs early and late;
And if we failed ourselves,
she would give us a good tanning (red).

About when all the children were grown,
our little Mother became old;
She wasn’t spared from trouble,
the world is hard and cold. 

“The small children,” she would often say,
“They step upon the apron;
then when they are older,
they step upon the heart.”

The tears fall upon the (her) lap,
so all alone in the quietness;
A little sigh that one can barely hear,
“Yes, well!  It is God’s will!”

 The (my) mother rests in the cool grave,
And here still is her apron- -
I closed the drawer,
with such pain in my heart.