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Original lyrics
Miorița
Pe-un picior de plai,
Pe-o gură de rai,
Iată vin în cale,
Se cobor la vale,
Trei turme de miei,
Cu trei ciobănei.
Unu-i moldovan,
Unu-i ungurean1
Şi unu-i vrâncean.
Iar cel ungurean
Şi cu ce-l vrâncean,
Mări, se vorbiră,
Ei se sfătuiră
Pe l-apus de soare
Ca să mi-l omoare
Pe cel moldovan,
Că-i mai ortoman
Ş-are oi mai multe,
Mândre şi cornute,
Şi cai învăţaţi,
Şi câni mai bărbaţi,
Dar cea mioriţă,
Cu lână plăviţă,
De trei zile-ncoace
Gura nu-i mai tace,
Iarba nu-i mai place.
- Mioriţă laie,
Laie bucălaie,
De trei zile-ncoace
Gura nu-ţi mai tace!
Ori iarba nu-ţi place,
Ori eşti bolnăvioară,
Drăguţă mioară?
- Drăguţule bace,
Dă-ţi oile-ncoace,
La negru zăvoi,
Că-i iarbă de noi
Şi umbră de voi.
Stăpâne, stăpâne,
Îţi cheamă ş-un câine,
Cel mai bărbătesc
Şi cel mai frăţesc,
Că l-apus de soare
Vreau să mi te-omoare
Baciul ungurean
Şi cu cel vrâncean!
- Oiţă bârsană,
De eşti năzdrăvană,
şi de-a fi să mor
în câmp de mohor,
Să spui lui vrâncean
Şi lui ungurean
Ca să mă îngroape
Aice, pe-aproape,
În strunga de oi,
Să fiu tot cu voi;
În dosul stânii
Să-mi aud cânii.
Aste să le spui,
Iar la cap să-mi pui
Fluieraş de fag,
Mult zice cu drag;
Fluieraş de os,
Mult zice duios;
Fluieraş de soc,
Mult zice cu foc!
Vântul, când a bate,
Prin ele-a răzbate
Ş-oile s-or strânge,
Pe mine m-or plânge
Cu lacrimi de sânge!
Iar tu de omor
Să nu le spui lor.
Să le spui curat
Că m-am însurat
Cu-o mândră crăiasă,
A lumii mireasă;
Că la nunta mea
A căzut o stea;
Soarele şi luna
Mi-au ţinut cununa.
Brazi şi paltinaşi
I-am avut nuntaşi,
Preoţi, munţii mari,
Paseri, lăutari,
Păserele mii,
Şi stele făclii!
Iar dacă-i zări,
Dacă-i întâlni
Măicuţă bătrână,
Cu brâul de lână,
Din ochi lăcrimând,
Pe câmpi alergând,
Pe toţi întrebând
Şi la toţi zicând:
"Cine-a cunoscut,
Cine mi-a văzut
Mândru ciobănel,
Tras printr-un inel?
Feţişoara lui,
Spuma laptelui;
Musteţioara lui,
Spicul grâului;
Perişorul lui,
Peana corbului;
Ochişorii lui,
Mura câmpului? "
Tu, mioara mea,
Să te-nduri de ea
Şi-i spune curat
Că m-am însurat
Cu-o fată de crai,
Pe-o gură de rai.
Iar la cea măicuţă
Să nu spui, drăguţă,
Că la nunta mea
A căzut o stea,
C-am avut nuntaşi
Brazi şi paltinaşi,
Preoţi, munţii mari,
Paseri, lăutari,
Păserele mii,
Şi stele făcliï!
- 1. Romanian ethnic from Transylvania Region, at that time part of Hungary hence the "hungarian" name as in "from hungary"
adysanuTranslation
The little ewe (pastoral ballad)
Near a low foothill
At Heaven’s doorsill,
Where the trail’s descending
To the plain and ending,
Here three shepherds keep
Their three flocks of sheep,
One, Moldavian,
One, Transylvanian
And one, Vrancean.
Now, the Vrancean
And the Transylvanian
In their thoughts, conniving,
Have laid plans, contriving
At the close of day
To ambush and slay
The Moldavian;
He, the wealthier one,
Had more flocks to keep,
Handsome, long-horned sheep,
Horses, trained and sound,
And the fiercest hounds.
One small ewe-lamb, though,
Dappled gray as tow,
While three full days passed
Bleated loud and fast;
Would not touch the grass.
”Ewe-lamb, dapple-gray,
Muzzled black and gray,
While three full days passed
You bleat loud and fast;
Don’t you like this grass?
Are you too sick to eat,
Little lamb so sweet?”
”Oh my master dear,
Drive the flock out near
That field, dark to view,
Where the grass grows new,
Where there’s shade for you.
”Master, master dear,
Call a large hound near,
A fierce one and fearless,
Strong, loyal and peerless.
The Transylvanian
And the Vrancean
When the daylight’s through
Mean to murder you.”
”Lamb, my little ewe,
If this omen’s true,
If I’m doomed to death
On this tract of heath,
Tell the Vrancean
And Transylvanian
To let my bones lie
Somewhere here close by,
By the sheepfold here
So my flocks are near,
Back of my hut’s grounds
So I’ll hear my hounds.
Tell them what I say:
There, beside me lay
One small pipe of beech
Whith its soft, sweet speech,
One small pipe of bone
Whit its loving tone,
One of elderwood,
Fiery-tongued and good.
Then the winds that blow
Would play on them so
All my listening sheep
Would draw near and weep
Tears, no blood so deep.
How I met my death,
Tell them not a breath;
Say I could not tarry,
I have gone to marry
A princess – my bride
Is the whole world’s pride.
At my wedding, tell
How a bright star fell,
Sun and moon came down
To hold my bridal crown,
Firs and maple trees
Were my guests; my priests
Were the mountains high;
Fiddlers, birds that fly,
All birds of the sky;
Torchlights, stars on high.
But if you see there,
Should you meet somewhere,
My old mother, little,
With her white wool girdle,
Eyes with their tears flowing,
Over the plains going,
Asking one and all,
Saying to them all,
’Who has ever known,
Who has seen my own
Shepherd fine to see,
Slim as a willow tree,
With his dear face, bright
As the milk-foam, white,
His small moustache, right
As the young wheat’s ear,
With his hair so dear,
Like plumes of the crow
Little eyes that glow
Like the ripe black sloe?’
Ewe-lamb, small and pretty,
For her sake have pity,
Let it just be said
I have gone to wed
A princess most noble
There on Heaven’s doorsill.
To that mother, old,
Let it not be told
That a star fell, bright,
For my bridal night;
Firs and maple trees
Were my guests, priests
Were the mountains high;
Fiddlers, birds that fly,
All birds of the sky;
Torchlights, stars on high.”
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Romanian Folk: Top 3
| 1. | Miorița |
| 2. | Cântec de unire |
| 3. | Ana lugojana |
Idioms from "Miorița"
| 1. | Touch grass |
Comments
mt1014 About translator
Aromanian version of the ballad: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S4gBFdjYMUQ