Handsome Yeva, Original Slavic and Baltic Folk Poetry #2


– What is that, my sis,
What is that, my flock?
On my Dear I gaze,
On my Dear I walk,
Near me, my Dear,
Like a candle, burns?
Sister his responds:
– Didn’t tell we him,
Don’t roam at nights,
At the hours grimm,
At condemned times!
HCG 369, ZL 388, 394, Шейн 1898 196,7

Oh, my precious love,
How long’s the path,
Which is dividing us,
You can’t come to me,
Then, with the birds, I’ll skim,
Over the mountainous rim,
Then, with the fish, I’ll dive,
Into the sea, my life.
ZL 13, IK 2

Janis came on St. John’s night,
Riding horse adorned right,
Run, oh, sister, open entrance,
Let him, Janis, enter fences.
ZL 43, B 32912

Went out a pretty girl picking high-bush cranberries,
High-bush cranberries, to the open dale,
Wore she a good outdoor dress, for the daily hikes,
For the daily hikes, and the mountain boots,
Rode on near her young and handsome pal on a blackish horse,
On a blackish horse, on a lovely saddle.
– Come out free, you, girl, from under the thin long twigs,
From under the cranberries, from under the raspberries,
Jump on fast, you, girl, on my horse’s butt,
On my horse’s butt, behind the torso mine!
Tracked they a broad dale, passed another one,
On the third wide vale, night embraced them,
Night embraced them, by the dark eve’s dawn.
– Jump off fast, you, girl, off my horse’s butt,
Off my horse’s butt, from behind torso mine!
Pull out lots, you, girl, prairies’ tall soft grass,
Make up nice, you, girl, downy bed to sleep,
Lie down safe, you, girl, facing sea deep blue,
I shall lie, brave pal, facing wide flat dale,
Horse’s job will be, watching forest dark,
Watching forest dark, for the fierce wild beast.
– Tell me true, you, girl, what your family is.
– Family mine is not a big one, it’s not small,
It is average, it is pasturage.
Me, the youngest kid, had nine brothers brave,
I’m the tenth lone child, can’t find a place in life.
Two my older brothers grow wheat with dad,
Two another ones work for a mighty man,
Yet, another four, are riding on wild hunt,
Younger two of them are the armed men,
Youngest brother mine’s lost without a trace.
– Girl, oh, girl, you are the blood sister mine,
I’m your brother lost, can’t find a place in life.
ZL 171, Ш 1247

Handsome Mara went for water,
Handsome Ivo rode in quarter,
He gives Mara a small flatter:
– I see girl I want a chatter,
Home, is a chance to glance her?
Handsome Mara has an answer:
– That task would be very hard,
Nine my brothers are at guard,
Tenth sees girl and’d like romance her.
Zl 172

Before the house stands a grove,
In grove lives mighty eagle bird,
He sings and tells the stories trove,
He spreads his wings, and falls the dust of gold,
Hey, Mara girl, collect the dust,
Bring it to goldsmith skilled you must,
He’ll forge a key of precious metal cold.
ZL 247-9, Zaninović 139-41, PP 5

The key will open city’s gate,
Nine brothers here will await,
The wedding there will be played,
Whom chooses you, the Sun the bright,
Or Crescent slim, the light of night?
The Dawn will be the mom of bride,
The Sister Stars, will dance engage,
Pleiads, their kids, will come upstage,
Who shares bed with you, won’t come to age.
ZL 252,4,7 IKS 205, Č 142 IK 2,107 (Pregled hrvatske tradicionalne književnosti By Ivan Radetić 106, Hrvatske narodne pjesme što se pjevaju po Istri i kvarnerskih otocih 107)

Sun was playing early morn,
Swan was flying at the dawn,
Few her feathers down fell,
On the field with girl in dwell.
Picking those feathers gold,
Weaving them, a band she’d hold.
From nowhere strong winds came,
Mighty storms of lightning flame,
They’ve caught garland in the cast,
Golden feathers flying fast,
Overseas to blue bay aim.
ZL 253, Ш 342

– Whom have you visited, young?
You’re like a cord which’s strung.
– I saw whom my brother clings:
Her face like the Sun is bright,
Her neck like the rays of light,
Which Crescent the Silver brings,
Her breast like the Dawn in sight,
She’s dressed in the Starry Night,
Her hands are the wide-spread wings.
Her belt of the flowers sprung,
About her waist is rung,
Her voice in the midnight sings.
ZL 260-1

Mara girl, born Night the Great,
Not by gods, but earthly fate.
Thunder strikes from clear sky,
Bringings the storm earth can rely,
You have Sun’s the brightly trate.
ZL 348-9, Stojanović 365, Vercović 26, Симитчев 1000

On the field of yellow flowers,
First the flower Mara picks,
Placing it on maple red:
– Wilt and wither rose on sticks,
Wilt and wither Ivan’s head.
Next the flower Mara picks,
Placing it on wall robust:
– Wilt and wither rose on bricks,
Wilt and wither Ivan’s bust.
Third the flower Mara picks,
Placing it on patch of soil:
– Wilt and wither dirt-rose mix,
Wilt and wither Ivan’s soul.
ZL 400

From lands afar came cuckoo bird,
She poked my little lily white,
She woke my girl’s memories blurred.
About happy days she cried,
My girl the little lily bright,
About ivy green, at doorposts nicely girt.
Миллер 15

Brother mine, shamrock the white,
Prep the horse of yours the black,
Let for girls you swiftly ride.
– Girl, you are like lilac,
Come to the pasture wide,
Where the horses graze.
Over a creek I’ll guide,
You may, the swift, me chase.
On the meadow green,
We can sleep on hays.
Has fallen a night on scene,
Moon peered the bright his gaze,
On those kisses sweet,
On lovely pair ablaze.
When came down heartbeat,
Sun’s shown up her rays.
Brother, send up the girl,
To find in a morning haze,
Horses you’ll swiftly hurl,
To her small home back.
– To your mom we’ll glide,
To your childhood’s shack,
Which I’ve wanted have eyed,
To have known those ways,
Your mom had up you raised,
In your springtime days.
Миллер 16-7

By the river, by rainwater,
Comes a boat, tarred black,
Here comes who gives no slack,
Girl, oh, girl, the lily’s daughter.
Precious comb, he gave, does glow,
Golden hair yours waives in flow,
In your gentle tender heart,
Someone fire may do start,
Waist of yours he’ll make strung bow.
Миллер 17-9

Missiles are buzzing like bees,
Like bees,
Armies are dropping like flies,
Like flies,
Heads being chopped like reed,
Like reed,
Men are falling like trunks,
Like trunks,
Squadron is dying on ridge,
On ridge,
Blood is running like streams,
Like streams,
Smoke is eating my eyes,
My eyes,
Torment is filling my heart,
My heart.
Миллер 167

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