Dieselbe senen äuch die Trähren, wās giessen sich heunt teichenweis dort hinter die varhangene Fensterlech in der weiberscher Schul, chotsch vun andere Äugen, vun andere gepeinigte Herzer fliessen see....
Auf dem Ort, wu mit dreissig Jāhr früher is' die unglückliche Mutter gestan'en un' bewēint ihr liebe Tochter, wās is' asō jung vun der Welt aweg, stēht heunt äuch a Mutter un' zugiesst ihr schwer Harz in hēisse Trähren. Sie wēint un' klāgt über ihr schoene Tochter, wās sie hāt sich a Māl gebentscht mit ihr, a Maedel, schoen wie Gold, wās is' pluzling wie vun a Kischef varführt gewor'en, un' wās mit ihr thut sich itzt, is' schwer un' bitter selbst auszurēden; un' die ständig getreue Mutter bet' itzt mit Trähren, hēiss wie Feuer, nit Gesund, nit lange Jāhren far ihr Kind, āber a Tōdt a gichen, wās wet gleicher sein far dem Kind noch mehr wie far der Mutter.
Sie hāt noch ihr mütterliche Treuheit in ihr Harzen, wie noch ēhder das Unglück is' geschehn.... Nor take derfar bett' sie bei Gott asō hēiss ot dem Tōdt auf ihr Kind. Kēin bessere Sach seht sie nit in der Welt un' kēin ander Sach kānn sie bei Gott dem lebedigen heunt
as then; in two large boxes filled with sand on both sides of the altar there are burning to-day the waxen soul-lights just as thirty years ago, though for other, fresh souls that have become souls only within the last thirty years. And they burn, some quietly and softly, and some flickering and melting, and urchins are now as then picking up the pieces of molten wax.
Although the voice of the Precentor is now different, yet the words which he says, and the tune which he sings, are the same, precisely the same, not a bit changed.
And the tears are the same that flow to-day in streams there behind the curtained windows in the woman's gallery, though from other eyes they flow, from other tortured hearts....
On the same spot where thirty years ago the unfortunate mother had been standing and mourning her beloved daughter who had departed so young from this world, there is to-day also standing a mother and dissolving her heart in hot tears. She is bewailing and lamenting her beautiful daughter who had once been her blessing, a girl, as pure as gold, who had been misled as if by witchery, and of whom it would be hard and bitter to say what she is doing now; and the ever-true mother prays now with tears, as hot as fire, not for health, not for long years for her child, but for quick death, which would be better for the child even than for the mother.
She still harbors her mother's truth in her heart, even as before the calamity had happened.... For that very reason she prays to God so fervently to grant death to her child. She sees no better thing in the world, and she can ask for no better thing to-day of the living God.
nit betten. Un' es giessen sich ihre Trähren still un' fallen über die Wörter vun ihre Tchines; sie halt dem Kopp in Ssider eingegrāben un' schämt sich ihre Äugen arauszunehmen, tomer begegnen see sich mit Äugen, wās wöllen ihr Schand' dersehn, wās is' wie a Fleck auf ihr Ponim gewor'en....