Little Ewe [mioriţa - A Romanian Folk Ballad Translated By Octavian Cocoş] Poem by Octavian Cocos

On a ridge so nice,
Nest of Paradise,
Here come in the end,
Down the slope descend
Three white flocks in queue
And three shepherds, too,
From Moldavia land,
Transylvania land,
And from Vrancea land.
And the second one,
With the Vrancea's son,
Well, they schemed a lot
And devised a plot
At the end of day,
Merciless to slay
The Moldavian guy,
Richer - cant' deny -
For has many sheep,
Which are fair and leap,
Horses trained for ride,
And dogs full of pride.
But that ewe, so cool,
With a gray-white wool
Three days in a row
Spoke in a voice low,
And walked to and fro.
- O, gray little ewe
And with white wool, too,
Three days in a row
Spoke in a voice low!
Doesn't the grass grow
Or you're feeling blue,
My beloved ewe?
- O, my shepherd dear,
Bring your sheep down here
Near the woods today
Where we have much hay,
In the shade you'll stay.
Master, hear my clue,
Call a dog to you,
Bold and of good breed,
True to you, indeed,
For when night is near,
They will kill you, dear,
The Vrancea's mean son
And the other one!
- My ewe with meek eyes
If you are so wise
When you see me dead
On a foxtail bed,
Tell the Vrancea's son
And the other one
To dig me a tomb
In this pasture's womb,
Near the pen for sheep
To bury me deep;
Or behind the logs
To hear all my dogs.
Tell them what I say,
Near my head then lay
A pipe made of beech
Its nice song to reach,
A pipe made of bone,
With a doleful tone;
A pipe thin and real,
Which plays with much zeal!
Wind will sweep the grass
And through them will pass
All the sheep will flee
Here to cry for me
Shedding tears a sea!
If I'm killed, don't run,
But tell everyone
I married one day
A queen far away,
The world's bride, I'd say;
At my wedding, tell
That a bright star fell;
That the moon and sun
Held my wreath for fun.
Firs and oaks with nests
Were my lovely guests,
Priests, the mounts with herds,
Fiddlers, the wild birds,
Birdies stood to watch,
Stars shone like a torch!
And I'm asking thee
If one day you see
Old mom feeling down,
With a belted gown
Crying in despair,
Asking everywhere,
Shouting in the air:
'People full of joy
Who has seen my boy
Shepherd proud and dear,
Slim and without fear?
His face soft as silk
And as white as milk;
His moustache so sweet,
Yellow ear of wheat;
His hair combed with skill
Black like raven's quill;
His eyes deep and droll,
Two pieces of coal? '
You, my dearest sheep,
Pity her and weep
Then tell her somehow
That I'm married now
To a young queen nice,
There, in Paradise,
But don't give detail
To that mother frail,
That on wedding night
A star lost its light
Firs and oaks with nests
Were my lovely guests,
Priests, the mounts with herds,
Fiddlers, the wild birds,
Birdies stood to watch,
Stars shone like a torch!