Och när som jag var på mitt artonde år
det var en vacker pojke som föll uti min håg
en tänkte jag för evigt att älska
Men denna min tanke rätt snarligt försvann:
Det var en annan flicka som lades i hans famn
Den kallar han för "rosende blomma" |
And when I was going on eighteen
there was a handsome boy whom I fancied
I thought that I would love him forever
But this my intention soon vanished:
It was another girl who was lain in his arms
He calls her "rosy blossom"
|
Kol dodi
(trad. Sephardic song)
Original lyrics and translations of some of the songs on the album "Echoes of Qiyan"
(All translated by Josefine Liftig, unless otherwise stated)
CD 1:
Kol dodi, kol dodi
kol dodi hineh ze ba
M'daleg al heharim
m'kapetz al hagva'ot |
Voice of my lover
voice of my lover and behold he comes!
Leaping on the mountains
skipping on the valleys.
Translation: George Jakubovits |
Etz harimon
(Sephardic song)
Composer: Yedidia Admon
Lyrics: Yaakov Orlandt
Etz harimon natan recho
ben yam hamelach ad Y'richo
Shav chomati g'dudech mindod
Shav tamati dodech midod
Otzrot Ofir utzri Gilad
Rechev mitzrayim shalati lach, bat
Elef hazemer etle lach magen
min hay'or ad hayarden |
Pomegranate tree has emanated its fragrance
between the Dead Sea and Jericho,
My fortress, your regiment returned from patrol,
My innocent your lover returned from wondering.
Treasures of Ofir and fragrance of Gile’ad,
Chariots of Egypt I sent to you, girl
Thousand songs I will hang for your shield
From the Nile to the Jordan.
Translation: Hagai Halamish |
Kuando veyo ijo ermozo (trad. Sephardic song)
Kuando veyo ijo ermozo ayi me vo yo Kon las paras, sin las paras
Si me dan, si no me dan,
me yo lo vo tomar | When I see a handsome boy, I go to him
With money, without money
Whether they give it to me or not
I will take him |
Och när som jag var på mitt artonde år (trad. Swedish ballad)/
Una mática de ruda (trad. Sephardic song)
Una mática de ruda, una mática de flor
hija mia querida
dime a mi quien te la dió
Una mática de ruda, una mática de flor
Me la dió un mancevico
que de mi se enamoró
Hija mia querida, no te eches a perdición
Más vale un mal marido
que es mejor de nuevo amor
Mal marido, la mi madre, no hay más maldición
Nuevo amor, la mi madre
la manzana y el buen limón |
A branch of rue, a flowering branch
My darling daughter
tell me who gave it to you
A branch of rue, a flowering branch
A young man gave it to me
because he fell in love with me
My darling daughter, do not ruin your life
A bad husband is more worth
He is better than a new lover
A bad husband, mother, is a real curse
A new lover, mother
is like the apple and the good lemon |
Lyrics: David Shimoni
Mi yitneni of
tzi por kanaf k'tana
Habindude en sof
nafshi ma mitana
Ah, bindude en sof
nafshi ma mitana |
Oh, that I had wings
like those of a little bird!
I wander endlessly
to find shelter for my soul |
Mi yitneni of
(trad. Sephardic song)
Eshet chayil (trad. Hebrew song)
Eshet chayil mi yimtsa
verachok mip'ninim michra
Batach ba lév bala
veshalal lo yechsar
Gemalathu tov velora
kol yemé chayeha
darsha tsemer ufishtim
vata'as bechéfets kapeha
Haita kaoniot sochér
mimerchak tavi lachma
vetakam beod laila
vatitén teref leveitah vechok lena'roteiha
zamma sade vatikachéhu
mipri chapeiha nat'a kare
chagra beoz motneiha
vateaméts z'rooteha |
A worthy wife is more precious than corals.
Her husband trusts her,
he will not want for anything.
She does him good and no evil
every day of her life.
She makes arts and crafts from wool and flax.
Like the trade ship, she fetches the bread from far
away.
She gets up before the sun rises
and feeds her household and her servants.
She plants vineyards with her own hands.
She girds her loins, and her arms are strong. |
Yedí Kulé
(Trad. Sephardic lament)
Yedí Kulé verás empaseando
De altas murallas saradeado
En la prisón esto' por tí atado
En el budrúm lloro desmasalado
Me quitaron la luz, esto' sufriendo
y la muerte, niña, sto viendo
Yo sto en la prisión, tú en las flores
Sufro de corazón, quiero que llores
Por el Yedí Kulé ven paseando
Mira en que hali yo sto pasando
Fostanico preto cale hacerte
y a la quehilá echar aceite |
You can sight Yedí Kulé when you walk by
It is surrounded by high walls
I am in prison, in chains for your sake
I cry in the dungeon in despair
They took away the light, I am suffering
and I see death approaching, girl
I am in prison, you among the flowers
I suffer in my heart, I want you to cry
Come, walk by the Yedí Kulé
See the misery I have to endure
Let a black dress be made for you
and make an offering of oil in the Synagogue |
The fortress Yedí Kulé ("seven towers") in Istanbul has been used for
defence, as a treasury and as a prison.
When prisoners were beheaded there, their heads were thrown down into
the sea…
Ben n'har prat
(trad. Hebrew/Sephardic song)
Ben n’har Prat unhár Chidékel
Al hahar m'tamér dekel
Uvadekel ben afaav
Tishkon la duchifat zahav |
Between the Euphrates and the Tigris,
on a mountain, stands a palm tree
Amidst its leaves
dwells a golden peacock |
Avram Avinu
(trad. Sephardic song)
Cuando el rey Nimrod al campo salía
vido en el cielo y en la estrellería
Vido luz santa en la judería
que havía de nacer Avram Avinu
Avram Avinu, padre querido
Padre bendicho, luz de Yisrael
La mujer de Térah quedó preñada
Día en día en día él la preguntava:
"De qué teneij la cara tan demudada?"
Ella ya savía el bien que tenía
Al fin de los mueve mezes, parir quería
Iva caminando por campos y viñas
Y a su marido tal no le descuvría
Topó una m'ará, allí parería |
When king Nimrod went out into the fields
he looked at the sky and at the stars
He saw a holy light from the Jewish Quarter
and knew that our father Abraham would be born
Our father Abraham, beloved father
Blessed father, light of Israel
Térah's wife became pregnant
Day after day he asked her:
"Why do you look so worried?"
She already knew what treasure she was carrying/shielding
At the end of the nine months, she wanted to give birth
She wandered through fields and vineyards
so that her husband wouldn't find her
She came to a cave where she could give birth |
Abraham is regarded as the founding patriarch of
Jews,Christians, andMuslims alike.
In this song, king Nimrod foresees his birth and decides to kill all
pregnant women…
The text is from the period of King Alphonse X of Spain (1245-1289)
Lyrics by Isaac Levy/Oshik Levy/Roni Eran
Adió, querida
(trad. Sephardic song)
Tu madre, cuando te parió
y te quitó al mundo
corazón ella no te dió
para amar segundo
Adió, adió querida
no quero la vida
me la amargates tú
Va, buxcate otro amor
Aharva otras puertas
Aspera otro ardor
que para mí sos muerta |
When your mother gave birth to you
and put you into the world
she didn't give you a heart
to love another
Goodbye, goodbye, my love
I don't want my life
You have made it bitter
Go, find yourself another love
Knock on other doors
Seek another ardour
because for me you are dead |
Alta es la luna (trad.Sephardic song)
Alta, alta es la luna
cuando empeza a esclarecer
Hija ermoza y sin ventura
nunca llegue a nacer
Mis ojos se me hincheron
de tanto mirar la mar
Vaporicos van y vienen
letra para mi no hay
Mi querido es hermoso
dos taras tiene con él
La una que arroja dados
la otra que echa ses bes
Mi querido es alto y vano
y una vara de espander
Mi madre hizo colada
lo metió a detener |
High, high is the moon
when dawn is breaking
A beautiful, hapless girl
should never have been born
My eyes have swelled up
from gazing so much at the sea
Steamboats come and go
There is no letter for me
My beloved is handsome
He has two weaknesses:
One is that he shoots craps
the other that he plays backgammon
My beloved is tall and vain
just like a clothes line pole
My mother hung up her laundry
and let him hold the line |
CD 2:
Dja da kall
(trad. from 14th century Al-Andalus, in the rhytmic mode 6/8 called Darij , which means "popular")
The lyrics are part of a Sufi poem by Lisan Ibn Al-Khatib.
Sufism can be said to be the inner, mystical dimension of Islam, and it had a strong base in Al-Andalus.
The Sufis created their own symbolic language, because according to them, one cannot reach God through the ordinary five sens
es. Thus, Sufi poetry can be hard to fully understand.
Lisan Aldin Ibn Al-Khatib, 1313-1374, a philosopher, historian, poet, politician, and doctor, was influential in 14th century Al-Andalus. Ibn Al-Khatib was a great sufi poet and a prolific writer: Suffering from insomnia, he is said to have written all night while others slept.
Poems by him adorn several mosques as well as the Alhambra Palace in Granada.
Some of Ibn Al-Khatib's poetry was put to music as muwashahat - text adorned with music - an Al-Andalusian song form in which the lyrics decide the rhythmic structure which can be very intricate.
Ibn Al-Khatib occupied high political positions with the Nasrid dynasty in Granada, and was called “double minister”, “dhul-wizaratayn”. He made
powerful enemies and fled to Morocco. But he was imprisoned, his works were burned for political/religious reasons, and he was finally
assassinated for his Sufi "heresy".
Love is pouring down like rain
Oh, season of love in Andalusia!
You were a mere dream, sneaking into my sleep
You live in Wadilghada, but you dwell in my heart
The vast wilderness is less wide than my heart
You, with your bottomless eyes and saliva like honey
you fill my bosom, like my breath.
You shot an arrow from your eyes, right into my heart
I svensk översättning:
Det regnar kärlek, det öser ner
Å, kärleksfulla tider i Andalusien
Du var väl inte mer än en skugga eller en dröm
som smög in i min sömn
Du som bor i Wadilghadha,
du bor i själva verket i mitt hjärta
Hela vildmarken är trängre än mitt hjärta
Det har
varken öst eller väst
Du med
becksvarta ögon (ögon som brunnar) och saliv som honung
Du går
runt i min själ som mitt andetag
Du
riktade dina ögons pil och sköt i mitt hjärta
ett skott av en skicklig jägare
Hemingen og Gygri (trad. Norwegian medieval ballad)
Heming tog bogjen på sin bak Og pilekorgi ved side So mundi han seg åy fjölle gå Han visste eit bjönnehie
Hemingen unge kunne på skiom renne
Han rende bå’ bratt og flatt So lett han på skio flyge Då blei han var i bergje inn Bjartan elden lyse
Er inne sat den gamle Gygri Og kara med naso i elde: "Kor vil du av du usseldreng Som kjerne so seint om kvelde
Er du komen i bergje ut Å blive her dagane alle So vil eg reise meg upp i land Og lata vårt bryllaupe kalle"
Gygri seg moy aust munde snu Soli ho skeib i augo Då blei ho i flintestein Standane neri haugo |
Heming took his bow and arrows and put on his skis, and went bearhunting.
Young Heming was a good skier
He flew on his skis
He then saw a fire burning inside a mountain
In there sat the old witch Gygri, poking in the fire: "Where are you going so late at night, silly boy?
You shall stay here for the rest of your days,
and I will now go and invite guests to our wedding!"
Gygri went outside, the sun shone in her eyes and she turned to stone down in the field |
Margjit
Hjukse (trad.
Norwegian medieval ballad)
Stolt Margjit ho reidde seg til kyrkja å gå
Tidi fell meg longe
Så tok ho den vegen til fjølle låg
Det er eg som ber sorgi so tronge
Og som ho no kom fram med bergjevegg
Då kom Bergjekongen med det lange, kvite skjegg
Og Bergjekongen tukka fram sylvforgylte stol:
"Set deg der, stolt Margjit, og kvil din fot!"
Så var ho i berget i åri dei ni
Og ho fødde sønir og døtrar tri
Å då som ho kom der gangand' i gård
hennar saele fader ute for henne står
So leidde han inn stolt Margjit med glede og gråt
So sette han henne i sin moders sto
Men då kom bergjekongen snøgt som ein eld
"Kjeme du inkje heimatt til bonni i kveld?"
"Fare no vel då alle i min heim
no kjeme eg alli til dikkon meir"
Stolt Margjit ho sette seg på gangaren grå
Ho greit fleire tårir hell hesten ha håt
Og Margjit ho sat med sit handtein og spann
Då høyrde ho Bøherads kyrkjeklokkur klang
Stolt Margit ho tala til Bergjekongen so:
"Å må eg få lov til min fader å gå?"
"Å du må få lov til din fader å sjå
du må kje vera burte hot ein time hell tvo"
Las tres hermanicas
(Trad. Sephardic romance)
Stolt Margjit got ready to go to church
Time drags on
She then took the road to the mountain
It is I who is burdened by sorrow
And when she came to the mountain wall
the Mountain King appeared with his long, white beard
And the Mountain King took out a gilded silver chair:
"Sit down, Stolt Margit, and rest your foot!"
She stayed in the mountain for nine years
And she had tree sons and daughters
And as she entered the homestead,
her dear father went out to greet her
He led Stolt Margjit in, with joy and tears
He sat her down in her mother's chair
But then came the Mountain King, swift as a fire
"Will you not come home to the children tonight?"
"Farewell, then, all of you in my home
Now I will never come back to you again"
Stolt Margjit mounted the grey stead
She cried more tears than the horse had hairs.
And Margjit sat with her distaff and spun
She then heard the church bells of Bøherad chime
Stolt Margjit said to the Mountain King:
"Can I get permission to go to my father?"
"You may get permission to go to your father
But you must not be gone for more than one or two hours"
Tres hermanicas eran
blancas de rosa y ramas de flor
tres hermanicas eran, tres hermanicas son
Las dos eran casadas,
la chica en perdición
Su padre con vergüenza
a Rodas la envió
En medio del camino
castillos la fraguó
Ventanas hizo altas
pa´ que no sube varón
Varón es que lo supo
a la mar ya se echó |
There were three sisters
white roses and branches of flowers
There were three sisters, three sisters they are
Two of them were married,
the youngest one had fallen into perdition
Her father, in shame,
sent her off to Rhodes
Halfway there
he had a castle built for her
He made windows so high
that no man could get in
The man heard about it
and threw himself into the sea |
Ädiril
(Anonymous Iraqi song, Bagdad, 1960-ies)
Sung rhythmically free, as a mawal,which is a slow vocal recitative over a few poetic lines
I am a stranger here, without my dear ones around
who would see
me and love me and cry for my sake
Woe is me, I
am in such distress! My whole world has crumbled
I svensk översättning:
Jag ser
mig omkring, men jag ser inga kära
En
främling är jag här utan mina nära
Som kan
se på mig och ge mig ömhet
och
gråta för min skull
Ve mig,
vilken svår belägenhet jag hamnat i
Ve mig,
ve mig
Jag
orkar inte mer, min tillvaro har rasat ihop
Lamma
Bada Yatathanna
(trad.
Arab-Andalusian, from the 12th century)
This well beloved piece, a muwashah, is in a 10/8 rhythmic mode called sama'i thaqil which originated in Al-Andalus.
Lamma bada Yatathanna
Hubbi jamalu fatanna
Aman' Aman' Aman' Aman
Aw ma bi LaHzu asarna
Ghusnu thana Hinamal
Lamma bada yatathanna
Hubbi jamalu fatanna
Waadi wa ya Hirati
Man li shafeeashak wati
Illa maleekul jamal
Fil hubbi min lawaati
Lamma bada yatathanna
Hubbi jamalu fatanna
She walked with a swaying gait
her beauty amazed me
Her eyes have taken me prisoner
Her stem folded as she bent over
Oh, my promise, oh, my perplexity
Who can answer my lament of love and distress
but the graceful one, the queen of beauty?