Verses by Vasile Alecsandri, translated by Julia Kalman
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Three princesses of royal birth,
In a splendid palace’s girth,
Stringing on threads so divine,
White pearls, a treasured design.
A magical bird appears in flight,
Through the window, gleaming bright,
Fluttering wings, a gentle call,
Words of kindness to enthrall:
“Welcome, welcome, noble three,
Morning flowers by the sea!”
“Welcome from the realms above,
Feathered friend with words of love!
I come with the breath of spring,
To depart when summer’s wing.
Now, I bring the month of May,
Tears and loving sighs convey,
And a tale, fair and bright,
Unlike any seen in light!”
“Little bird, please tell, unfold
This wondrous tale untold,
For the pearls, so fair to see,
Shall weave a tale of mystery.”
I
“String along, pearls of grace,
On golden threads, a luminous trace,
Like a dance, radiant and rare,
My woeful tale, a breath of air:
Once upon a time, somewhere,
A maiden graced with beauty rare,
Her face, a charm to seek the sun,
Eyes and countenance, second to none.
Flowers called her ‘flower’ in song,
Stars called her ‘star,’ a glow lifelong,
Creating a nightly strife,
As they argued over her in the night!
One morning, on a field so green,
The maiden, with two unseen,
Wandered, trailing dew in play,
One remarked, ‘I dreamt today,
Of an emperor’s noble heir!
If he comes to seek a fair,
I would bring to him as gift,
A steed swift, a magical lift,
Leaping mountains, oceans wide,
Circling the earth with pride!’
Another said, ‘Dear sister mine!
I would weave for him, so fine,
A shirt with spells, threads so light,
To guard him from the fiery might,
From soul’s passions, illness’ sting!’
And the maiden, whispering,
‘I would gift two sons divine,
Twins with golden locks that shine,
If they are not like the rest,
Charming and supremely blessed,
For their eyes will gleam so bright,
Like two joyful orbs of light!’
‘If you make such sons, dear one,
You, my bride, shall be the one!’
The gallant emperor then spoke,
Roaming through the verdant oak.
‘You, my bride, enchanting, fair,
Torn from the sun’s own lair!’
Overwhelmed with blissful fate,
The maiden swooned, elate,
Eyes shut, fingers let thread slip,
Tumbled into the grass, a gentle trip.
The young emperor so grand,
Lifted her with tender hand,
Mounted on his steed so bold,
Leapt and flew, a tale untold.
The steed neighed, soared in pride,
To the palace, side by side!
Seven days soon went by,
Grand celebrations filled the sky,
Royals, with crowns adorned,
Elegant empresses, beauty adorned.
Great guests of awe did throng,
Giants with dark marks, strong,
Dragons with bloody eyes,
And handsome heroes, a lovely surprise!
But amid the festal cheer,
Who spread joy most sincere?
The emperor’s radiant bride,
Her enchanting smile, a guide.
Her gentle smile, like a dream,
A light as bright as it may seem,
As she danced, a butterfly,
Every movement, a gentle sigh.
I too witnessed the grand affair,
And since then, in thought I wear,
A vision of a heavenly dream!”
II
“String along, pearls of grace,
On golden threads, a luminous trace,
Like my tender, heartfelt tale,
More to come, as if set to sail:
Months passed, a fleeting fleet,
Five, then nine, the years did meet.
The empress bore two sons, rare,
Twins with golden, flowing hair,
With locks that sparkled, a radiant sight,
As if two eyes with pure delight…
Sisters dear, pray tell me, pray,
What’s more precious, can you say,
Than love with sweetness so divine?
Or a mother with a child entwined?
Or a newborn, soft and small,
The dearest of them all?…
The happy empress, with twins bedecked,
Held them close to her, checked,
Creating bands from her golden tress,
On their brows, a kiss to impress.
She watched them day and night,
Whispered words so soft and light,
Waking them with gentle songs,
Lulling them in kisses strong.
While they slept, she sweetly sung:
‘Hush-a-bye, my dear young ones,
My beloved sons, chosen ones!
Mother rocks you, hush-a-bye,
With sweet verses, I comply.
And I pray to God on high,
That you may soar in the sky,
To witness, my dear ones,
Heavens filled with countless suns,
Showers of rays and stars so bright,
On fields of violets, a radiant light.
And I’ll pray to God divine,
That you both may intertwine,
Virtuous, handsome, wise and fair,
Bright as two affectionate stars.
May the world adore your name,
Frighten foes and gain great fame,
May the news spread far and wide,
Across the world, a joyful tide!’
And when it was time to awaken,
She’d sing with joy unshaken:
‘Rise, my sons, flowers fair,
White and bright beyond compare!
Two angels have come to roam,
In white robes, they make their home,
Nightly, by the minstrels’ side,
As dawn breaks, they do confide,
Bringing on their wings of light,
Dew so holy, pure and bright,
And crowns of white, eternal charms,
On their foreheads, to cradle in arms.’
Alas! Dear sisters, alas!
On a stormy night, oh, the glass!
The cruel sky did part,
Tore them away, heart from heart.
Gone, gone, my endless bliss,
In an instant, joy did cease.
Thus is fate, thus in the world,
All that glows, its wings are furled,
Swiftly gone, as a song or flower,
Like a dazzling, fleeting hour.
A star comes, a star departs,
Sweet joy, my love, departs.
The star, my joy, has fled,
To the depths of the sea, it sped!
Oh, mighty waves of foam,
Carry me, a nameless tome,
As a leaf, unnamed I drift,
Lost, without breath, I lift,
Onto the shore of the Bosporus,
Into oblivion, a mournful chorus!”
III
“String along, pearls of grace,
On golden threads, a luminous trace,
Like my tale of tearful cheer,
Now, onward, do not veer:
In a world of gloom and gray,
By a clear stream, I lay,
The mourning mother, so alone,
By a lilting brook, all her own.
And with love, she ceaseless seeks,
The stars that over her shine,
And in secret light, they peek,
Glistening, they intertwine.
The poor mother, sighing low,
With a sulcin flower in tow,
She gently placed it near the brook,
Where her gaze the water took.
She sighed and whispered in despair,
Gazing at the water’s glare:
“How many stars in the sky above,
All will vanish with the dawn,
Only two stand firm in love,
Till the morning light is drawn,
And they echo my deep pain…
God, bring them down again!
Little stars, soft in your light,
Now on earth, my dears alight,
Let my endless longing cease…
God, bring them down in peace!
Well it is for you, so bright,
In heaven’s realm of endless light,
But even heaven isn’t sweet,
As my dear children at my feet!
Ah, my children, my despair,
The sky for you is harsh, unfair,
The wind blows, chilling rain,
On you falls a bitter pain…
My beloved, my precious two,
How can I protect you?
Poor mother, not at rest,
Sky on her, an endless quest,
And through the darkened vale,
She listens to the nightingale,
Who, in silence, sadly hears,
Her whispers, full of tears.
For she chants to the stars on high,
In sorrowful lullaby:
“Sleep, sleep, dear little ones,
Mother’s own beloved sons!
As your mother rocks and sings,
Sweet enchanting verses brings,
And she prays to God above,
To bless you both with endless love,
To see, my dears, just as I wish,
Brave and handsome, a pair to cherish,
Shining like two gentle stars,
That the world adores from afar,
May the heavens love you so,
And your enemies quake and go,
May you gain a grand renown,
Worldwide news, your name renowned!
When she wakes them from their rest,
With a joyful tune expressed:
“Awake, awake, my dear sons,
Bright white flowers in the sun!
For two angels have descended,
In robes so white, unbended,
They visit minstrels in the night,
As dawn breaks, they take their flight,
Bringing on their wings so light,
Sacred dew and crowns so bright,
With their blessing, full and sweet,
They kiss the earth with gentle heat.”
Alas! Dear sisters, a plea!
Hearken to my misery!
Nor in all the world can one,
Count the endless sea’s vast run,
Enter ancient forests deep,
To count every leaf in sleep,
Number waves upon the shore,
Or sunbeams that adore.
Only a mother’s boundless might,
Can venture through the endless night,
To find every tear that falls,
And hear the world’s sorrows’ calls,
To find comfort, solace true,
In her ceaseless love for you.
And thus, dear Lady, like a stream,
Enters the vast golden gleam,
Tirelessly picking and choosing,
Stars that fell, quietly musing.
The grains of wheat, she picks with care,
Kissing them, lost in her prayer,
And with a touch so soft and grand,
She sifts them gently in her hand,
And when the field is all but done,
Lo and behold, she finds a one,
A splendid ear so grand and sweet,
Two small pearls from that golden wheat!
From that moment, tender, kind,
The mourning mother, lost in mind,
Continues to string with grace,
Her precious pearls, love’s embrace,
And to her bosom, she will cling,
Laugh and weep, her jewels sing,
Unstring them often, now and then,
And string them back, and sing again:
“String along, pearls so divine,
On golden threads, in endless line,
Like my tears, flowing to the sky,
String along, never say goodbye!
String along, pearls so white,
On golden threads, a shining light,
As my sorrows ebb and flow,
String along, a tale to show!
String along, pearls of grace,
On golden threads, a tender trace,
Till the sorrow of my heart,
Ceases, with its tearful art!
String along, pearls so fair,
On golden threads, a loving pair,
Till the pain of a mother’s loss,
Ends, with a kiss upon the cross!”
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Julia Kalman 