Gipsies, The - 4
ZEMPHIRE .
But say, my friend, dost not regret
The world thou hast behind thee left?
ALEKO .
And what is there to leave?
ZEMPHIRE .
Thou knowst:
Country, friends and native city.
ALEKO .
Wherefore regret? Ah, didst thou know,
Couldst but once conceive or measure
The vileness of their stifling town!
Where men do herd in crowds, nor breathe
The morning fresh, or mountain free,
Or scent of spring on meadow sweet;
Are shamed of love, and banish thought,
Consent to sell their freedom dear,
To fetish idols bow their heads,
Will sue for pelf, and hug their chains.
What have I left? The falser's lie,
The smirking bigot's narrow creed,
The senseless hate of unwashed mob,
Rank, orders, title, bought with shame.
ZEMPHIRE
But there are mansions vast and rich,
There are carpets varicoloured,
There are balls and banquets gayest,
And there are jewelled maidens fair.
ALEKO .
What gain can bring the town's mad joys?
Where love reigns not, joy cannot be
Better far than all their maidens,
Art thou, Zemphire, though poorly clad,
Of jewels and of necklace bare!
Change not, my true and faithful friend,
And I'll keep true to my sole wish,
With thee will share my love, my cares,
My life, in willing banishment.
OLD MAN
I see, thou lovst us and our folk,
Though born amidst a people rich;
But freedom is not always dear
To him who has been born in ease.
Amongst us runs a legend old:
From southern climes was banished once
A stranger to our land … his name
I knew, but have forgotten since…
He was already old in years,
But still was young in heart and soul;
Possessed the wondrous gift of song,
And voice like murmur of the waves.
And all who knew him loved him well,
And on the Danube's shore he lived,
Offended none, and none despised,
Enchanting all with song divine;
Was not proud, nor reasoned wisely,
But weak and timid, like a child.
For him our folk would hunt the beast,
Or trap the fish in close-knit net;
And when the river swift would freeze,
And wintry winds began to howl,
For him, their aged favourite,
They deftly stitched warm skins of fur.
For he was strange to petty toil
And all the tasks of daily life,
And lived a wand'rer pale and poor.
An angry god had punished him,
He said, for some offence and crime.
And now he prayed that death might come;
And as he roamed the Danube shore,
His grief he shared with its blue waves,
And oft would shed hot, burning tears,
At thought of his far-distant home
And ere he died, he prayed that we
His body to the south would bring;
For never could he sleep in peace,
Unless in his dear earth he lay,
His home once more his native land.
ALEKO
Such fate awaits thy noblest sons,
Oh Rome, great empress of the world!
Singer of love, hymner of gods,
Tell me, what is poet's glory?
A grave unknown, obscure; the theme
Of legend passed from mouth to mouth;
The nameless hero of wild tale
By gipsy told in smoky tent.
But say, my friend, dost not regret
The world thou hast behind thee left?
ALEKO .
And what is there to leave?
ZEMPHIRE .
Thou knowst:
Country, friends and native city.
ALEKO .
Wherefore regret? Ah, didst thou know,
Couldst but once conceive or measure
The vileness of their stifling town!
Where men do herd in crowds, nor breathe
The morning fresh, or mountain free,
Or scent of spring on meadow sweet;
Are shamed of love, and banish thought,
Consent to sell their freedom dear,
To fetish idols bow their heads,
Will sue for pelf, and hug their chains.
What have I left? The falser's lie,
The smirking bigot's narrow creed,
The senseless hate of unwashed mob,
Rank, orders, title, bought with shame.
ZEMPHIRE
But there are mansions vast and rich,
There are carpets varicoloured,
There are balls and banquets gayest,
And there are jewelled maidens fair.
ALEKO .
What gain can bring the town's mad joys?
Where love reigns not, joy cannot be
Better far than all their maidens,
Art thou, Zemphire, though poorly clad,
Of jewels and of necklace bare!
Change not, my true and faithful friend,
And I'll keep true to my sole wish,
With thee will share my love, my cares,
My life, in willing banishment.
OLD MAN
I see, thou lovst us and our folk,
Though born amidst a people rich;
But freedom is not always dear
To him who has been born in ease.
Amongst us runs a legend old:
From southern climes was banished once
A stranger to our land … his name
I knew, but have forgotten since…
He was already old in years,
But still was young in heart and soul;
Possessed the wondrous gift of song,
And voice like murmur of the waves.
And all who knew him loved him well,
And on the Danube's shore he lived,
Offended none, and none despised,
Enchanting all with song divine;
Was not proud, nor reasoned wisely,
But weak and timid, like a child.
For him our folk would hunt the beast,
Or trap the fish in close-knit net;
And when the river swift would freeze,
And wintry winds began to howl,
For him, their aged favourite,
They deftly stitched warm skins of fur.
For he was strange to petty toil
And all the tasks of daily life,
And lived a wand'rer pale and poor.
An angry god had punished him,
He said, for some offence and crime.
And now he prayed that death might come;
And as he roamed the Danube shore,
His grief he shared with its blue waves,
And oft would shed hot, burning tears,
At thought of his far-distant home
And ere he died, he prayed that we
His body to the south would bring;
For never could he sleep in peace,
Unless in his dear earth he lay,
His home once more his native land.
ALEKO
Such fate awaits thy noblest sons,
Oh Rome, great empress of the world!
Singer of love, hymner of gods,
Tell me, what is poet's glory?
A grave unknown, obscure; the theme
Of legend passed from mouth to mouth;
The nameless hero of wild tale
By gipsy told in smoky tent.
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