Gabriel, Josef (Sr.)
Banat Farmer, Poet, Writer & Folklore Collector
Josef Gabriel, Sr. (1853-1927) was born 5 Dec 1853 in the German village of Mercydorf (Banat) and died 24 Jun 1927. He attended elementary school in Mercydorf. From an early age, he helped his parents with the farm work. He continued to study the German language on his own and published his first poems at the age of 21. He continued farming and writing throughout his life. He married three times and had nine children. Josef Gabriel Sr. was greatly respected by the people of Mercydorf and reviled by the Hungarian-educated village elite as a “Pan-Germanist”.
Gabriel, Sr. was a Farmer, poet, writer in dialect, folklore collector. Elementary school in Mercydorf and Szegedin; introduced by village priests to German literature. Married Christine Filippi in 1879; took over his father’s farm. Published mainly lyric poems, ballads, and poems in Banat-Swabian dialect.
‘s gibt vielerlei Narre!
von Josef Gabriel d. Ä.
(from “Schwowische Gsätzle ausm Banat”)
Ich well Euch Leit uf dere Welt
Ke Menschekind verachte,
Nor Narre gebt es mancherlei,
Wann mr’s tut gnau betrachte.
Der een is geizich, hängt am Geld,
Versperrt’s un hiits em Kaschte,
Gunnt sich drvun ke Troppe Wein
Un tut sich mager faschte.
Manch anrer wieder lebt zu leicht,
Ke Kummer macht ihms Borche,
Un wieder eener werd fruh alt,
Griet grooi Hoor von Sorche.
Dort laaft der een de Haase noch,
Do zittert eene uf Karte,
Manch anner sucht bei Weibsleit Freed,
Werd närrisch uf solchi Arte.
Ich well jo jedi Närrschkeit net,
Die noch vorkummt, vergleiche
Un oftmals macht de bravschte Mann
Mitunner dummi Streiche.
Es losst am allerbeschte Mensch
Zuletscht sich was bemängle,
Drom welle mr ger Ricksicht han,
Em Himmel gebts nor Engle.
There are many kinds of fools!
translated by Nick Tullius
Of all the people in this world
No one we should look down on,
But fools – there are just so many
Don’t say you’re not aware of any.
One is tight, his god is money,
Locked up and guarded in his safe,
Does not enjoy a drop of wine,
Fasting has bent his spine.
The other lives on easy street,
Not worried if he borrows,
And still another ages fast,
Gets grey hair from sorrows past.
One likes only hunting rabbits,
Another one must play his cards,
A third just chases skirts all day,
His foolishness erupts this way.
Much silliness just happens
We should never quickly judge it,
And know that very clever men
May act foolish now and then.
Even the very best of men
May have his little weakness,
Forgive, and you won’t be lonely,
Angels are in heaven only.
Mother Tongue
© Pg 546 Mercydorf 1987
Dusk
© Pg 572 Mercydorf 1987
Last updated: 07/25/2025