My Town in Bukovina Land
From Gisela M. Geisler’s Lebensspiegelungen: Neue Lieder, Gedichte und eine Erzählung von Gisela M. Geisler mit dem Bildnis der Dichterin, pp. 113-114
(Detroit: Kramer Printing Company, 1937)
Sophie A. Welisch PhD, Trans.
Gisela Maria Geisler was born in Glitt on November 15, 1888; She married Roman Danyliuk; the couple was childless and she died June 5, 1940 in Detroit, Michigan.
My Town in Bukovina Land
Know you my town? Its name is Glitt
which for a long time I’ve not seen.
The stream which there so gayly flows
and greets me here on foreign shores
smiles down at me in friendly ways
and asks me when I shall return.
You see me only in your dreams,
in your strange world, or so it seems.
Should you again to Glitt return,
I’ll whisper to you happily.
And when you hear me at the shore,
you’ll see I haven’t changed at all.
I murmur, murmur through the town
and flow along through many farms.
You should, of course, with me delight
to once again my shores bestride.
Know you the hill in my town Glitt
up which with easy stride I ran?
High up and glad I often stood
and gazed on Bukovina land.
It is to my hill Poscheer
Where from afar these thoughts I send.
You speak to me in dreams so oft:
„Come back again to your hometown
and look once more at lovely Glitt.
You’ll find it all in verdant gown.
When you once more my crest ascend
and wander calmly on my slopes,
then you will see so fine a town
from these resplendant heights transcend.“
Know you the forest near town Glitt
through which I oft and gladly paced?
And as I wandered through its turf,
I felt secure in its embrace.
On its soft moss I then reclined
where shadows their enchantments wove.
Its woodland gave me such delight,
so send it greetings with my love.
So oft I hear in dreams so sweet
„Come home, come home to my retreat.
Bestride the paths and mountain tracks,
which wind through glens and forest brush.
And when you then the clearing see,
the thoughts of which you still retain,
then you the forest’s edge have reached
with haunting sounds of my refrain.
Know you the church in my town Glitt,
whose teachings penetrate my soul,
which followed me in foreign land
and always held me to my goal?
It gave to me a homeland gift:
a seedling that in strange lands blooms,
which flourishes amidst the din
and sends you greetings from afar.
To me it oft repeats in dreams:
„Come home, bestride again my place.
Return and be my welcomed guest
and rest a while in hallowed space.
The choir hymns you shall then hear
as well the faithful peal of bells
when you the altar rail approach
to bring me thanks on bended knee.“