The Book of Songs
1-11
The Songs of Jo
Yakov Rabinovich
1
Gwan, gwan!
go the ospreys
on the island in
the river.
A virgin girl,
beautiful, good:
fine mate for the
nobleman.
The water mallows
grow, some tall, some short.
We pluck on the
right, find more on the left.
A virgin girl,
beautiful, good;
every day the
young lord thinks of her,
when he sleeps, he
seeks her in his dreams —
he wants her, he
can't get her.
Asleep, awake, he
thinks of her,
all the workings
of his mind work
only for her.
Pensive, sad,
unable to sleep,
he tosses
all night, shifts
position,
lies on this side,
now the other.
The water mallows
grow, tall or short.
We pick some on
the right, then on the left.
A virgin girl,
beautiful, good,
led with wedding
music. Lutes
commend her like
friends, musicians pluck
her praises from
the strings.
The water mallows
grow, some tall, some short.
We harvest from
the left, fill our baskets from the right.
A virgin girl,
beautiful, good:
these are her
wedding drums,
her wedding
wine, her wedding happiness.
2
Far and wide grow
the cloth-fibre trees,
down the
hillsides, half across the vale,
leaves growing
close, lush, very lush.
Yellow birds fly
over, roost
in the cloth-tree
grove, chirping all together.
Far and wide grow
the cloth-fibre trees,
down the
hillsides, half across the vale,
thick-leaved.
Shave their bark!
Harvest it in
strips! It's pounded, cooked,
we make it into
linen, coarse or fine,
weave it well for
cloth that lasts.
I'm going to talk
to the matron in charge,
tell her, tell her
I have to go home,
just for a little,
to wash my own clothing,
I'll be right back
when I've cleaned my dress.
What needs
cleaning, what’s really wrong?
I need to go home,
I miss mom and dad!
3
In the field a
woman picks flowers,
a young woman,
picking, distractedly picking,
she hasn't managed
to fill her basket
shallow as it is.
She sighs. “I love
the man!”
She sets her
basket
down at the side
of the road
he left on, the
king's highway.
He's going slow up
rocky heights now,
his horse is
listless, stumbles.
He pauses, pours
wine from a golden jar
hoping he may
succeed for an instant
in not missing her
with all his heart.
Now he climbs a
tall ridge, a narrow rock path,
the horse is
bleeding, its blood is shiny, dark.
The nobleman
stops, just for a minute,
takes another
drink from his cup
carved from
precious rhino horn,
he tries to make
his wound not hurt,
a wound that
cannot bleed and always aches.
At last he's made
it past the peaks,
his weary squire
leads the limping horse
and complains,
"Alas, alas!"
to no one in
particular.
4
There's a tree
down south, the cloth-fiber tree,
its boughs are
draped with hanging vines:
O, happy is the
noble lord,
good fortune and
honors content him.
There's a tree
down south, the cloth-fiber tree,
wild hanging vines
overgrow its boughs:
O, happy is the
noble lord,
good fortune and
honors escort him.
There's a tree
down south, the cloth-fiber tree,
its boughs are
wound around with vines:
O, happy is the
noble lord.
good fortune and
honors perfect him.
5
Locusts,
limitless, countless sound,
noisy as a crowd:
it's only right
your sons, grandsons,
multiply beyond
the count
of two hands'
fingers.
Locusts, the sheer
wings of them!
numberless as
blades of grass:
it's only right
your sons, grandsons
spin out a
measureless line of descent.
Locusts, wings
upon wings,
crowded as an
audience, loud as applause
it's only right
your sons, grandsons
swarm like
summer's grasshopper horde.
6
The peach tree's
fresh-leaved, flowering bright:
the noble lady's
going to be married,
she'll see to it
her house is kept proper and neat.
The peach tree's
fresh-leaved, rich with fruit,
the noble lady's
going to be married,
she'll see to it
each room is ordered with care.
The peach tree's
thick-leaved, makes cool shade,
the noble lady's
going to be married,
she'll see to it
her servants are busy, alert.
7
Pound in the
stakes for the rabbit snare,
ding! ding!
hammer them in,
ding, ding!
like a halberd's ring!
Gallant and brave
is the man-at-arms,
a shield and wall
to his noble lord.
Pound in the
stakes for the rabbit snare,
right in the place
where two trails cross,
set it just where
it needs to be!
Gallant and brave
is the man-at-arms,
a good loyal
friend to his noble lord.
Pound in the
stakes for the rabbit snare,
place it far, in
the deep of the woods,
in a place that
only the hunter knows!
Gallant and brave
is the man-at-arms,
the very heart and
mind of his noble lord.
8
Picking the
plantains, pick pick pick,
garner 'em, gather
'em up, O,
gather 'em, get 'em
all, O!
Picking the
plantains, pick pick pick,
tug 'em down, take
'em down, O,
pick 'em down,
pluck 'em down all, O!
Picking the
plantains, pick pick pick,
fill your apron
full, O,
bundle 'em, bear 'em
all home, O!
9
There's a tree
that grows to the south of here,
too tall to grant
its shadow
to the man that
leans against it to rest.
There's a river
that flows just south of here,
the Han: the girls
who bathe in it
are pretty fishes
hard to catch.
The river Han's
too broad
to even consider
swimming across,
the Jyang river's
long, you cant reach its end
with a raft or
even with a thought.
We stack, stack
high the new-cut fuel,
lop the rough logs
free of branches;
the noble lady's
coming to be married,
we'll give her
horses grain when she arrives.
The river Han's
too broad
to even consider
swimming across,
the Jyang river's
long, you cant reach its end
with a raft or
even with a thought.
We stack, stack
high the new-cut fuel,
shave the rough
logs free of leaf and twig;
the noble lady's
coming to be married,
we'll give her
ponies grain when she arrives.
The river Han's
too broad
to even consider
swimming across,
the Jyang river's
long, you cant reach its end
with a raft or
even with a thought.
10
Text corrupt, no translation possible.
11
Startled, the
unicorn gallops,
the sons of the
duke hear its hooves.
They follow fast,
After it,
the unicorn, O the
quick beast!
The hunted unicorn
tosses its head,
facing the sons of
duke.
The duke's whole
family's gallant. After it,
the unicorn, O the
noble beast!
The unicorn's
bayed, brandishes horn,
facing the sons of
the duke,
sons of a
numerous, warlike clan.
After it, the
unicorn,
O the brave beast!