Spinning Song III - Elena Văcărescu

What hath he done, the luckless fellow,

     That thou wilt speak to him no more;

     Are ye not of the self-same village?

Why wilt thou, sister, not sit down by me?

And what awaits thou, to stand so long?

     Look down the way no longer,

     Watch the old well no longer,

But rather hark to me, the while I sing.

    What hath he done — the luckless fellow,

     That thou wilt speak to him no more?

     Are ye not of the self-same village? —

— Down to the river-side we went together.

He said: “Now hearken, hearken to the wind

     That rustles through the leaves.”

I said: “Oh see, oh see the merry sunshine

     That shineth through the wavelet.”

He said: “I love, I swear I love, a woman

     Thou knowest not.”

I said: “I love, I swear I love, a lad

     Of whom thou knowest naught.”

He said: “That woman ceaseless weeps for me.”

And I replied: “That lad awaited me.”

Then from the river we went hence together.

And I, I knew full well he was my lad;

And he, he surely knew I was that woman.

But yet —

Because of all that sunshine in the water,

And of the wind that rustled through the leaves,

We both were silent — we kept silence both. —

     What hath he done, the luckless fellow,

     That thou wilt speak to him no more,

     Are ye not of the self-same village?

---

Elena (Hélène) Văcărescu (1884 - 1947) Romania

Translated by Carmen Sylva and Alma Strettel

Source: The Bard of the Dimbovitza, Roumanian Folk-Songs Collected from the Peasants by Hélène Vacaresco, translated by Carmen Sylva and Alma Strettel; James R. Osgood, McIlvaine & Co., 1897