Showing posts with label Georgia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Georgia. Show all posts

Friday, 30 January 2015

Saïat Nova’s Love Song


I sigh not, while thou art my soul! Fair one, thou art to me
A golden cup, with water filled of immortality.
I sit me down, that over me may fall thy shadow, sweet;
Thou art a gold-embroidered tent to shield me from the heat.
First hear my fault, and, if thou wilt, then slay this erring man;
Thou hast all power; to me thou art the Sultan and the Khan.

Thy waist is like a cypress-tree, sugar thy tongue, in sooth;
Thy lip is candy, and thy skin like Frankish satin smooth.
Thy teeth are pearls and diamonds, the gates of dulcet tones;
Thine eyes are gold-enamelled cups adorned with precious stones;
Thou art a rare and priceless gem, most wonderful to see;
A ruby rich of Mt. Bedakhsh, my love, thou art to me.

How can I bear this misery, unless my heart were stone?
My tears are blood because of thee, my reason is o’erthrown.
A young vine in the garden fresh thou art to me, my fair,
Enshrined in greenness, and set round with roses everywhere.
I, like the love-lorn nightingale, would hover over thee.
A landscape of delight and love, my queen, thou art to me!

Lo, I am drunken with thy love! I wake, but my heart sleeps.
The world is sated with the world; my heart its hunger keeps.
What shall I praise thee by, when naught is left on earth, save thee?
Thou art a deer, a Pegasus sprung from the fiery sea!

Speak but one word, to say thou art Saïat Nova’s* love,
And then what matters aught to me, in earth or heaven above?
Thy rays have filled the world; thou art a shield that fronts the sun.
Thou dost exhale the perfume sweet of clove and cinnamon,
Of violet, rose, and marjoram; to me, with love grown pale,
Thou art a red flower of the field, a lily of the vale!

___________________
*An Armenian minstrel often weaves his name into the last stanza of his song, in order that he may be known as its composer. The same peculiarity appears in the next poem.

~“Love Song” by Sayat-Nova, translated into English by Alice Stone Blackwell


Sergei Parajanov's muse, Georgian actress Sofiko Chiaureli, in his 1968 film The Colour of Pomegranates.



Sunday, 17 May 2009

Orovela

The other day I discovered the most beautiful and spiritual song I have heard in a long time, completely by chance, on this website (wait for it to load and the music should start automatically). After consulting a friend and my very knowledgeable husband, we thought it could be in Georgian, and to quote my husband, "people there are known to be great singers". Indeed! And... the pièce de résistance... my beloved found out through a Georgian contact that it is a Georgian folk song, Orovela, from the Eastern Georgian province of Kakheti, by the great singer and teacher of traditional Georgian music, Hamlet Gonashvili (lots of incredible songs on this page - Orovela is the 5th on the playlist). Ah... this has completely made my day (and the whole of my weekend, as I will spend it exploring his music!).

Below are the lyrics for Orovela, and no I do not read Georgian! However, I found out some possible explanations on the meaning of the lyrics: two words are repeated throughout the whole song: [ari aralo]. The words refer to soil/ land/ god of soil/ productivity, in a symbolic sense. Georgian peasants used to sing this song when they were plowing land with oxen. Georgia was then pagan. [*Edit: On viewing the YouTube clip again, a translation into English has been suggested, as updated below. (via)]

ოროველა (Orovela) (title)


გადი გამოდი გუთანო,
Go there [and] come back here you plough,


ღირღიტავ ბანი უთხარო
Ghirghita tell[give] him a bass[voice]. (to give him a voice, help in singing)
("Ghrighita" - name of ox)


სახნის საკვეთო გაუსვი
Your plough cutter cut it [cut it plough-cutter] [line it, cut in line]


რომ კაჭაჭს ძირი უთხარო
To dig out a bottom to Kachach [weed] [to sap out, to undermine a weed]("Kachach" - a kind of weed)


შენი ჭირიმე გუთანო
Your pain to me plough [love you plough] ("Let your pain be mine," a Georgian phrase, similar to "I love you" or "my darling.")


მაგ შენი მრუდე ყელისა
[pain] Of that your curved neck


შენა ხარ პურის მომყვანი
You are the bringer[leader] of bread


დამძველებელი ქერისა
The grower[old] of barley (To olden a barley, oldener of barley)



The sound quality of the following two videos is not very good, but the advantage is that you see a great musician in performance.





*Photograph: At the Abano-pass: The gate to Tusheti coming from Kakheti, source here.
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...