O my girl, O my soul,What does mother say to you?Will she marry you to me?Her son-in-law can I be?She might give you, she might not,Thou art ever, ever mine!B. S. S.
Listen, my girl, listen, my beauty!Thy eyes are corals in the sea,I am a merchant on the seaBuying the riches of the sea.Listen, my girl, listen, my beauty!Thy teeth are tiniest pearls,I am a merchant on the seaBuying tiniest pearls of the sea.Listen, my girl, listen, my beauty!Thy hands are whiter than the wool,I am a merchant on the seaTrading in wool o'er the sea.B. S. S.
Listen, my girl, listen, my beauty!Thy eyes are corals in the sea,I am a merchant on the seaBuying the riches of the sea.
Listen, my girl, listen, my beauty!Thy teeth are tiniest pearls,I am a merchant on the seaBuying tiniest pearls of the sea.
Listen, my girl, listen, my beauty!Thy hands are whiter than the wool,I am a merchant on the seaTrading in wool o'er the sea.B. S. S.
Falcon is winging high,But the fortress gates are higher;And Angela is watching thereAureoled in sunshine,Belted with the moonbeams,And flowering with the stars.B. S. S.
Little lad is wanderingThrough a wooded copse,Strutting with a green boughWalking down the slopes.Looking on a courtyardSees young Jana sweeping:"O thou pearl, my sweet one,Whence my ring in keeping?"Thus she answered proudly:"May thy brother know, perchance,And should it bring God's blessingHe'll join our wedding dance."B. S. S.
Little lad is wanderingThrough a wooded copse,Strutting with a green boughWalking down the slopes.Looking on a courtyardSees young Jana sweeping:
"O thou pearl, my sweet one,Whence my ring in keeping?"Thus she answered proudly:"May thy brother know, perchance,And should it bring God's blessingHe'll join our wedding dance."B. S. S.
What shall I do, what shall I do?My nights are sleepless,My heart is so restless—Ah, sorrow, anew,I'll die,My love, for you.B. S. S.
When the sun sets at even,My love is just coming to meAnd when the moon has passed HeavenMy lover is going from me.So the paths are all darken'd with shadow,Just as it should be, should beIn shadow that no one can see.B. S. S.
For whom powders face so lovely, Beauty?For whom has she dropped her hair on shoulder,For whom is she wearing charms in bosom?Is it for Valach, or for a Magyar?It is not for Valach nor for Magyar,It is for this Stojan, mighty reaper,Who in Kolo always takes the leadship,When he's playing, every heart is touched.When he's dancing, dances like a puppet.B. S. S.
Hurry, hurry, robust harvesters,At field's end there's water and a maiden,Cooling water, and a maiden youthful,Drink ye water, and embrace your maiden.B. S. S.
These are long nights, these are long nights,For him who does not kiss black eyes,He it is who cannot slumber,For his heart is pierced with sorrow.B. S. S.
Oh, my girl, my sweetest flower,Curl not ends of eyebrow bower,Do not grieve your youthful laddies,As your way doth torment me:Leading horse, I wander barefoot—Carrying boots, I wander barefoot—Bearing bread, I cannot eat it—Treading water, cannot drink it.B. S. S.
Girlhood was my golden tsardom!Tsar was I while girlhood lasted;Ah, if I could turn me backward,Well I know how I'd live girlhood.B. S. S.
On the river SitnitsaLittle green fir standeth!Who's young and stripling,Youth with green youth sleepeth.Ah, but see that youthful Jovo,All alone is he,Seeing that the youthful MaraJoins him secretly.B. S. S.
Full and thick is shadow,Come, my love, to meadow,For I've a verdant garden,Red roses for a warden;Golden kerchief will I make thee,Christmas gift of love from me,To carry so splendidlyIn the memory of thy darling.B. S. S.
Oh my heart, I feel me sighing,Methinks that my lover calls me to him,But in truth my sweetheart's love hath ceased.Cried out falcon from a fir branch lofty:"O girl lovely! Sinfully you are speaking,Only past night your love called you lovely,Drinking wine unto your bounteous pleasure:'O my girl, my soul of me most dearest,I have made for thee a hiding,Half my bed and half my arm,Half a pillow, half a cover,Half a cushion, heart of mine in bosom.'"B. S. S.
O girl of my soul, my soul,Take this bunch of rosebuds neat,Should thy bouquet fade and fail,Come once more, my soul, to meI will pluck again for thee.B. S. S.
Darling sweetheart on his free arm sleeping,Makes he motion to sound gong in waking:"Awake, my dear, dearer than mine own eyes,Last night I a strange dream was a-dreaming:My fez swept 'way on the troubled water,Pearls were strewing richly in my lap-robe,And my watch in pieces four was broken."Sweetheart waking, calmly speaking this-wise:"Easy is it to interpret dreaming,That your fez was swept by troubled waterMeans you're to go forth to battle army;That pearls richly scatter'd in your lap-robeMust mean our tears, thine with mine are mingling;That your watch in pieces four was brokenMeans in truth that our hearts will be breakingWhen we're forced to take leave of each other."B. S. S.
Cyclone downward rumbling,All the castle trembling.In castle is a girlCrying, never ceasing:"Alas, how long nights are!When sleeping near to papa;On nine soft mattresses,On nine softest cushions,'Neath nine fine coverlets.""Alas, how long nights are!When sleeping near to mother;On nine soft mattresses,On nine softest cushions,'Neath nine fine coverlets.""Alas, how long nights are!When sleeping near to brother;On nine soft mattresses,On nine softest cushions,'Neath nine fine coverlets.""Alas, how long nights are!When sleeping near to sister;On nine soft mattresses,On nine softest cushions,'Neath nine fine coverlets."Cyclone downward rumbling,All the castle trembling.In castle is a girlCrying, never ceasing:"Alas, how short the nights are!Sleeping with my darling,Just on single mattress,On a single pillow,'Neath a single cover."B. S. S.
Cyclone downward rumbling,All the castle trembling.In castle is a girlCrying, never ceasing:"Alas, how long nights are!When sleeping near to papa;On nine soft mattresses,On nine softest cushions,'Neath nine fine coverlets."
"Alas, how long nights are!When sleeping near to mother;On nine soft mattresses,On nine softest cushions,'Neath nine fine coverlets."
"Alas, how long nights are!When sleeping near to brother;On nine soft mattresses,On nine softest cushions,'Neath nine fine coverlets."
"Alas, how long nights are!When sleeping near to sister;On nine soft mattresses,On nine softest cushions,'Neath nine fine coverlets."
Cyclone downward rumbling,All the castle trembling.In castle is a girlCrying, never ceasing:"Alas, how short the nights are!Sleeping with my darling,Just on single mattress,On a single pillow,'Neath a single cover."B. S. S.
'Wakening Lazar dawn was stealing:"Get up, Lazar; rise up, Lazar!Horse of thine has thirst for water."Forthwith up leaps Lazar quickly,Grasps his horse's bridle lightly,Leading horse, he goes to water,But at water's edge was maiden,With his foot he touched hers gently,Kissed the while her black eyes sparkling,Clasping her about the bosom.B. S. S.
When I lived a girl with mother,Good advice was given me often,That I should not drink the red wine,That I should not wear green wreathlets,That I shouldn't kiss a stranger.But I poor girl deeply thinking over:There's no red cheek without red wine sparkling,There's no pleasure without green wreath glistening,Neither amour without stranger wooer.B. S. S.
In a garden works a maiden,Digging furrow, water decoy,To the garden 'luring water,To give drink to early flowers,Early flowers, whitest basil,Whitest basil, gold carnation;Where she's furrowing, there she's sleeping.Putting head in sweetest basil,Hands are lying in carnations,Feet are plac'd in shallow hollow,Covered with a fragile kerchief;Beat upon her dew-drops slender,Like a rain-soaked watermelon.Now there comes a callow youth,Callow youth and not yet married,Grasping two posts, leaps the railing,Springing lightly into garden,Then commences soliloquizing:"Should I pluck a bunch of flowers?Should I kiss a sleeping maiden?Bunch of flowers lasts till mid-day,But a maiden lasts forever."B. S. S.
Breeze fans up o'er roses 'long the meadow,To the rich white tent of Jovo, youthful,Where there's Jovo with Maria sitting:Jovo writing and Maria sewing;Ink runs short for Jovo where he's writing,And Maria golden thread is losing,Then to Maria, Jovo thus is speaking:"Oh, my Maria, mine own cherish'd lov'd one!Is my soul to thee a dear possession?For a pillow is my right hand doughty?"Mara to him gently whispering slowly:"Believe me, Jovo, darling of my heart-throb,Dearer to me is thy soul much dearer,Than are altogether four of brothers;Softer to me thy own right hand doughty,Than four softest pillows of my choosing."B. S. S.
Planted rose-tree midst of Novi-Sad town,O my rose-bud, O my sorrow rose tree,Cannot pick you, neither give you sweetheart:For my sweetie vents her anger on me,Gliding past my courtyard stealthy,Like the slave who passes Turkish graveyard.B. S. S.
O my darling, be not wrathful;Should I, myself, show my hot displeasure,All of Bosnia never could appease us,Not all Bosnia nor the Hercegovina.B. S. S.
Alas hero I'm with arrow pierced,O my Yetsa, thy white face is guilty,Thy black eye-balls are the piercing arrows,Thy white arms are now a very torment.Come, my love bird, to my white court homing,Come to heal my heart's own sore displeasure,To bind up my wounds with thy throat's whiteness,To salve suffering with thy honey kisses.B. S. S.
Up and down went youth in mountain,In a garden, girl round fountain;On her threw he hawthorn red,—Lightly answering, blackthorn sped,—Think you they intend to kill?Nought but kisses that they will.B. S. S.
Little girl, the small black-eyed,Hero, wondering stupefied:'Had we means of barter!To lead us near together!I my life long would not quit her,None could make our friendship wither.'B. S. S.
Oh, my jeweller, for your trade's sake, listen!Make me hero, all of gold my hero,I will spoil him, as his mother dares not,I will kiss him until dawns the twilight,Till day breaks ever will caress him.B. S. S.
Lo! behold behind the forestSomeone loudly screams—"'Tis a voice," says youthful hero,"Girlish-like it seems."When behold! he looked and spied her,Tiny girl, tree-bound they'd tied her,With fine silken seams.Hear! she prays of youthful hero, dazzled by his might:"Come to me, thou youthful hero, O most beauteous, wonderknight.Come to free me, youthful hero, and I'll be thy sister true."Thus she spake, but laughing he, "O, there's one at home like you.""Come to free me then, my brother; sister-in-law I'll be no other."('But at home she sits by mother.')"Then I'll be thy golden bride.Take me to thy meadows wide,Take me to thy castles white,Take me, take me from this plight."So she spake to gallant lover,Hovering near and just above her,Clasps her in his arms to love her—Such a gallant knight!B. S. S.
All young heroes here save mine,All young gallant heroes brave.O! that I were sure he'd tarry,Lingering in some sickness grave,Rather than the wish to marrySends him courting another maid.O! may he be too ill to travel,May him dread illness cause to pine,Rather than to court another,Never, never to be mine.B. S. S.
O maiden, thou gentlest roseWhen thou wert growing what didst thou behold?Hast thou observed a pine-tree growingOr the slender, proud fir-tree blowing,Or did'st gaze at my youngest brother?—O glad, young hero, brilliant Sun!Never at the pine-tree blowingHave I look'd in wonder gazingNeither at the slender fir-tree,Nor thy youngest brother, free,Rather have I grown to suit thee,Tender knight, to suit but thee.B. S. S.
O maiden, thou gentlest roseWhen thou wert growing what didst thou behold?Hast thou observed a pine-tree growingOr the slender, proud fir-tree blowing,Or did'st gaze at my youngest brother?—
O glad, young hero, brilliant Sun!Never at the pine-tree blowingHave I look'd in wonder gazingNeither at the slender fir-tree,Nor thy youngest brother, free,Rather have I grown to suit thee,Tender knight, to suit but thee.B. S. S.
[1]This song as also those signed "S. J. B." has been transversified and published by (Sir) John Bowring, "Servian Popular Poetry," London, 1827.
[2]The Serbian peasants, especially women, firmly believe that saints, parents, rulers, bishops and clergymen have the privilege of cursing and that the person to whom the curse is addressed is bound to undergo the consequences pronounced by the curser. There are several instances in the Serbian heroic ballads by which it is proven that the national Serbian bards, and indeed all the peasants who participated in the composition of their epic poetry, believe that curses pronounced by privileged persons always come true. Thus in the balladUros and MrnjavceviciKing Vukasin of Macedonia, angry with his son Marko Kralyevich because the latter, when chosen for arbiter, said that the imperial crown belonged to Carevic Uros and not to him (Vukasin), exclaimed:
"O son Marko, may God smother thee!Mayest thou have no tomb, nor progenyMay thy soul not leave thy bodyBefore thou hast served the Turkish emperor!"
While Marko's kingly father cursed him, Carevic Uros blesses him thus:
"O my Kum Marko, God second thee!Thy face shine at divanThy sabre smother in duels!May no one excel thee in heroismThy name be reverently remembered.As long as Sun and Moon shine!"
And the bard finishes his poem with, "Whatever they said, it came true."
Another oral tradition tells us how a noblemanVelimir Bogati(Velimir the Rich) who once refused hospitality to Knez Lazar, the emperor of Serbia (1389), was cursed by the noble prince and how Velimir's first son indeed drowned himself in the river Lepenica, his second son fell from his horse and died in consequence of the accident and how his third, and now only son, was imprisoned by his father in one of the remotest towers of his castle in order to avoid any danger of experiencing the prince's curse. One day, however, Velimir Bogati brought to his imprisoned son some grapes from his own vineyard, in order that the poor young fellow should at least know what time of the year it was, and lo! while the boy was eating the grapes a small viper jumped out of the bunch and mortally bit him. The news of the sudden death of the young nobleman spread rapidly amongst the neighboring villages and fortified the peasants in their belief that one cannot escape the curse.
Par extension akletva(curse) can be effective even if pronounced, as in the above song, by other persons than those privileged.
Another saga narrates how a peasant greedily coveted and wished to appropriate a corn field that belonged to his neighbour and, in order to attain his evil end, he buried in the middle of that field his only son whom he had previously taught what to say when interrogated. The judge and the plaintiffs came with the defender to the spot and the mischievous peasant in order to mystify those present, exclaimed: "O black earth, speak of thy own free will, to whom dost thou rightly belong?"
"I belong to thee," the voice from below was heard.
The lawful owner, hearing this, started aback. And the judge's verdict appointed the field to belong to the covetous and wrong claimant. And the parties dispersed in wonder.
Then the father began to dig the ground in order to disinter his son. But—there was not the shadow of one! He called loudly and the child answered the call but the voice from beneath the earth was ever fainter and fainter. Finally the child turned to a mole.
Thus became, according to Serbian tradition, the first mole. (Edit.)
[3]Sir John Bowring, although a remarkable transversifier and at times a true interpreter of popular songs of the Slavs, has taken too much of thatlicentia poeticain his rendering of this, one of the most beautiful lyrics ever composed by Serbian peasant women. The reader may judge for himself, when comparing Sir John Bowring's liberal transversification with the followingverbatimtranslation (which he, himself, felt absolutely indispensable to reproduce) what a great injustice is inflicted upon the popular songs of any people by even the most conscientious transversifier and how infinitely less untrue to the original a rendering can be. (Edit.)
Of this little poem, which Goethe calls "wonderful," the following is an almost literal translation:
Full of wine, white branches of the vine-treesTo white Buda's fortress white had clung them:No! it was no vine-tree, white and pregnant!No! it was a pair of faithful lovers,From their early youth betrothed together.Now they are compell'd to part untimely.One address'd the other at their parting,"Go! my soul! burst out and leave my bosom!Thou wilt find a hedge-surrounded garden,And a red-rose branch within the garden;Pluck a rose from off the branch, and place it,Place it on thy heart, within thy bosom;Then behold!—ev'n as that rose is fading,Fades my heart within thy heart thou loved one!"And thus answer'd then the other lover:"Thou, my soul! turn back a few short paces.There thou wilt discern a verdant forest;In it is a fount of crystal water;In the fount there is a block of marble;On the marble block a golden goblet;In the goblet thou wilt find a snow-ball.Love! take out that snow-ball from the goblet,Lay it on thy heart within thy bosom;See it melt—and as it melts, my lov'd one!So my heart within thy heart is melting."(S. J. B.)
[4]This song has obviously been composed by a Serbian woman of Mohammedan faith. A large percentage of Serbians in Bosnia, Hercegovina and even Macedonia are still adhering to the Koran. Ali Bey surely must have been a Serbian bey. (Edit.)
[5]Smilia, thegrapharium arenarium, or "lovely love." Also a woman's name. (S. J. B.)
[6]This song is sung at the close of the harvest, when all the reapers are gathered together. Half as many reeds as the number of persons present are so bound that no one can distinguish the two ends which belong to the same reed. Each man takes one end of the reeds on one side, each of the women takes one end at the other. The withes that bind the reeds are severed, and the couples that hold the same reed kiss one another. (S. J. B.)
[7]Kalpak, the fur cap of the Serbians. (S. J. B.)
[8]This is one of the songs sung at the breaking up of the company, addressed to the giver of the festival. (S. J. B.)
[9]Musko cedo(male child). The male sex is in Serbia, as elsewhere, deemed entitled to more care and attention than the other. (S. J. B.)
[10]A handkerchief embroidered and given by a girl to a boy is considered in Jugoslavia as a symbol of love and faith. (Edit.)
[11]As unfortunately Serbian parents often, very often, select the husband of their marriageable daughter, the poor girl, unless disobedient and rebellious, meekly accedes to the choice even if her bridegroom should be an old man. This is obviously a remnant of Turkish dominion in Serbia. (Edit.)
[12]Zvezda, star, is of the feminine gender. (S. J. B.)
[13]Sun is feminine in Serbian. (S. J. B.)
[14]The leech,Sanguisuga; but in Serbian there is no disagreeable association with the word. It is the name usually employed to describe the beauty of the eyebrows, as swallows' wings are the simile used for eyelashes. (S. J. B.)
[15]Visnja, the universal Slavonian name of the Vistula cherry-tree. TheCerasum apronianumof Linné. (S. J. B.)
[16]TheVilanearly corresponds to thePeriof the Persians, and theWölaof the Scandinavians. (S. J. B.)
[17]Radisais the name of a man.Radovanje—joy. (S. J. B.)
[18]Lepotais the Serbian word for beauty. (S. J. B.)
[19]I shall be accused of havingdecoratedthis. The translation is more free than I have generally given; but in order to show how little I have deviated from the thought of the original, I give the conclusion. (S. J. B.)
"Ako bi te u pjesmu pjevala,Pjesma ide od usta do usta,Pa ce doci u pogana usta;Ako bi te u rukave vezla,Rukav ce se odma izderati,Pa ce tvoje ime poginuti;Ako bi te u knjigu pisalaKnjiga ide od ruke do ruke,Pa ce doci u pogane ruke."Vuk i. p. 200
[20]The popular national dance of the Serbians. (S. J. B.)
[21]Bosiljak, theOcimum basilicumof Linné (S. J. B.)
[22]As the Serbians have had during the long Ottoman rule to attend to much sterner duties than that of cultivating literature and art, and, as the greater part of the population (sixty per cent at least) are even to this day completely illiterate, ability to read and write is still considered an 'art' with the peasantry. (Edit.)
[23]Kaloper, balsamita vulgaris of Linné. (S. J. B.)
[24]Vila(pronounced veelah) is with the Serbians a female deity (Muse or Grace) of incomparable beauty and tenderness. But she can be very hostile to mortals. (Cf. note 16. Edit.)
[25]The cuckoo (Kukavica), according to Serbian tradition, was a maiden who mourned so unceasingly for a dead brother, that she was changed into a bird, and thence continues without rest her melancholy note. A Serbian girl who has lost a brother never hears a cuckoo without shedding tears.—"I a poor cuckoo," is equivalent to "woe is me!" (S. J. B.)
[26]Banis obviously a corrupt form of the Polish or Cech or Ruthenian titlePan, meaning "Mr." or, in direct address, "Sir." To this day that word has been conserved only by those Serbians who have lived in the Austro-Hungarian territory called Croatia, and is applied as a title to their political chief. (Edit.)
[27]Lado is the vocative ofLada, the goddess of love, in the old Slavonian mythology.Lado!is a melancholy interjection in Serbian, whereasLele!the vocative of Lela, the god of love, has frequently a cheerful association.Polela(after love) the goddess of marriage, is also sometimes apostrophised. Talvj remarks, thatLjad, in Russian, signifies misfortune. In common parlance,Lele mene(Serbian) imports "Woe is me!" (S. J. B.)
[28]Mlinar, the miller. (S. J. B.)
[29]Wesely imagines that this expression has been introduced into Serbian poetry by the influence of the interesting ballad on the marriage of Maxim Cernojevic (seeQuarterly Reviewfor December, 1826). The intimate intercourse which existed between Serbia and Venice may account for the phraseology. (S. J. B.)
[30]This song, as also others signed "O. M.", has been transversified by Robert Bulwer Lytton (Owen Meredith), "Serbske Pesme; or National Songs of Serbia," London, 1861. (Edit.)
[31]Kolo, signifying literally a wheel, is the generic term for all the Serbian national dances in most of which the dancers, either taking hands, or united each to each by a handkerchief tied round the waist or to the girdle, form a ring and advance or retreat to and from the centre to a monotonous music, either of the voice or some very simple wind instruments. Both sexes take part in these dances, which are frequently in the open air. (O. M.)
[32]This song as also those signed "J. W. W.", has been transversified and published by J. W. Wiles, "Serbian Songs and Poems: Chords of the Yugoslav Harp," New York, 1917.
[33]Hodza, i. e. Mohammedan priest. (J. W. W.)
[34]Turkish seminary. (J. W. W.)
[35]Kalfa, governess. (J. W. W.)
[36]Koledó: In ancient times the Serbians, as all the Slavs, often used this word as a refrain in their bucolic songs. It was an address toLedo, the ancient Slav divinity who presided over the process of fertility and protected fields and flowers. (J. W. W.)
[37]Loud lamentations, by women rather than men, are an ancient custom among the Serbs. These dirges are again and again extemporized with spontaneous poetic feeling. Girls let down their hair and lament in the orchards and precincts of the house. (J. W. W.)
[38]This song, as well as others signed "B. S. S.," has been rendered into English by the Editor.
[39]"The Prayer of Karageorge's Lady" is number 685 of Vol. I of Vuk Karadzic's collection. (Edition of 1891.)
[40]No. 428 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[41]No. 445 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[42]No. 468 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[43]No. 474 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[44]No. 581 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[45]No. 792 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[46]No. 765 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[47]No. 247 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[48]No. 314 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[49]No. 338 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[50]No. 409 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[51]No. 446 Vol. V. (Edition of 1898).
[52]No. 298 Vol. V. (Edition of 1898).
[53]No. 279 Vol. V. (Edition of 1898).
[54]No. 335 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[55]No. 309 Vol. V. (Edition of 1898).
[56]No. 294 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[57]No. 466 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[58]No. 459 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[59]No. 453 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[60]No. 287 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[61]No. 472 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[62]No. 473 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[63]No. 482 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[64]No. 487 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[65]No. 488 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[66]No. 491 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[67]No. 300 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[68]No. 359 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).
[69]No. 422 Vol. I. (Edition of 1891).