The night is [coming]1, let thy spindle be. Those who went by this way Spoke of their huts together, and the huts Seemed far, so far away. What saw'st thou at the bottom of the well ? -- I saw my face, my bodice, and my chain. -- Child, didst thou see [naught]2 else ? -- I saw there at the bottom of the well A man who wept. My face, down there, was sore afraid of him ; And all the water in the well was naught But this man's tears. I was afraid, and would not draw those tears. Then came a woman, and I went aside, But yet I saw, how she drew up those tears. And how she drank them, looking all the while Up at the sky. Then with her apron she did wipe her lips, And went from thence -- and I, too, went my way. The night is [coming]1, let thy spindle be. Those who went by this way Spoke of their huts together, and the huts Seemed far, too far away.
The Bard of the Dimbovitza
Song Cycle by Arnold Edward Trevor Bax, Sir (1883 - 1953)
1. The well of tears  [sung text checked 1 time]
Authorship:
- by Alma Strettell (1856 - 1939), "The well of tears", appears in The bard of the Dimbovitza : Rovmanian folk-songs collected from the peasants, in Luteplayer's Songs
Based on:
- a text in German (Deutsch) by Elisabeth Pauline Ottilie Luise zu Wied, Prinzessin (1843 - 1916), as Carmen Sylva, "Nicht schöpfen (Zigeunerlied)", appears in Lieder aus dem Dimbovitzathal
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View original text (without footnotes)1 Bax: "cometh"
2 Bax: "aught"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
2. Gipsy song  [sung text checked 1 time]
There where the path to the plain goes by Where deep in the thicket my hut doth lie Where corn stands green in the garden plot, The brook ripples by so clearly there, The way is open so white and fair, My heart’s best beloved he takes it not. There where I sit by my door and spin While morning winds that blow out and in With scent of roses enfold the spot. When at evening I softly sing my lay That the wand’rer hears as the goes his way My heart’s best beloved he hears me not. There where on Sundays I go alone To the old, old well with the milk-white stone Where by the fence in a nook forgot Rises a spring in the daisied grass That make who drinks of it love alas! My heart’s best beloved he drinks it not. There by my window where day by day When the sunbeams first brighten the morning’s grey I lean and dream of my weary lot And wait his coming and softly cry Because of love’s longing that makes one die, My heart’s best beloved he dieth not.
Authorship:
- by Alma Strettell (1856 - 1939), appears in The bard of the Dimbovitza : Rovmanian folk-songs collected from the peasants
Based on:
- a text in German (Deutsch) by Elisabeth Pauline Ottilie Luise zu Wied, Prinzessin (1843 - 1916), as Carmen Sylva, "Zigeunerlied", appears in Lieder aus dem Dimbovitzathal
Based on:
- a text in Romanian (Română) from Volkslieder (Folksongs) [text unavailable]
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]3. My girdle I hung on a tree top tall  [sung text checked 1 time]
My girdle I hung on a tree-top tall, So the songs of the birds, it hears them all. O maiden, who gave thee those lips so red, That smile, and those songs ? -- -- Lad, what is it to thee Or why wouldst thou know who hath given them me ? -- -- And whither, O maiden, so fast art thou sped ? To the plum-tree groves in the valley below, Or there, where the orchards of apple-trees grow Overhanging the cliff? -- -- Lad, what is it to thee, Since it is not thou that [shalt]1 go with me ? -- My girdle I hung on a tree-top tall, So the songs of the birds, it hears them all. O maiden, [and]2 what in thy heart dost thou bear ? A song, or a love ? -- -- Lad, what is it to thee ? If there's one [that]2 I love, sure, thou art not he. -- Where wouldst thou I died of my love, then, where? By the river, where over me flowers shall weep? In the hut, where the mother who lulled me to sleep, Shall sing me my dirge ? -- --Lad, what is it to me, Since I am not going to weep over thee? -- My girdle I hung on a tree-top tall, So the songs of the birds, it hears them all.
Authorship:
- by Alma Strettell (1856 - 1939), no title, appears in The bard of the Dimbovitza : Rovmanian folk-songs collected from the peasants, in Spinning Songs , no. 6
Based on:
- a text in German (Deutsch) by Elisabeth Pauline Ottilie Luise zu Wied, Prinzessin (1843 - 1916), as Carmen Sylva, no title, appears in Lieder aus dem Dimbovitzathal
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View original text (without footnotes)1 Bax: "shall"
2 omitted by Bax.
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
4. Spinning song  [sung text checked 1 time]
The daughter: What didst thou mother when thou wert a maiden? The mother: I was young. The daughter: Didst thou, like me, Hark to the moon’s soft footfalls across the sky, Or didst thou watch the little star’s betrothals? The mother: Thy father cometh home, Leave the door open. The daughter: Down to the fountain, didst thou go and there thy wooden pitcher filled Didst thou yet linger another hour With the full pitcher by thee? The mother: I was young. The daughter: And did thy tears make glad thy countenance? And didst thy sleep bring gladness to the night? And didst thy dreams bring gladness to thy sleep? And didst thou smile even by graves Despite thy pity, thy pity for the dead? The mother: Thy father cometh home, Leave the door open. The daughter: Lovedst thou strawberries and raspberries Because they are as red as maiden’s lips? Didst love the girdle for it’s many pearls The river and the wood, because they lie so close behind the village? Didst love the beating of the heart There close beneath thy bodice Even although t’were not thy Sunday bodice? The mother: Thy father cometh home Leave the door open.
Authorship:
- by Alma Strettell (1856 - 1939), appears in The bard of the Dimbovitza : Rovmanian folk-songs collected from the peasants [an adaptation]
Based on:
- a text in German (Deutsch) by Elisabeth Pauline Ottilie Luise zu Wied, Prinzessin (1843 - 1916), as Carmen Sylva, no title, appears in Lieder aus dem Dimbovitzathal
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]5. Misconception  [sung text checked 1 time]
What hath he done the luckless fellow That thou wilt speak to him no more? Are ye not of the self-same village? Why wilt thou sister not sit down by me And what awaitest thou to stand so long? Look down the way no longer, Watch the old well no longer, But rather hearken to me the while I sing. What hath he done, the luckless fellow That thou wilt speak to him no more? Are ye not of the self-same village? Down to the riverside we went together. He said: ‘Now hearken, hearken to the wind that rustles thro’ the leaves’. I said ‘O see, O see the merry sunshine that shineth thro’ the wavelet’. He said ‘I love, I swear I love a woman whom thou knowest not’. I said ‘I love, I swear, I love a lad of whom thou knowest naught’. He said ‘That woman ceaseless weeps for me’. And I replied ‘That lad awaiteth me’. Then from the river we went hence together. And I, I knew full well that he was my lad And he, he surely knew I was that woman. But yet because of all that sunshine in the water And of the wind that rustled thro’ the leaves We both were silent. We kept silence both. What hath he done the luckless fellow That thou wilt speak to him no more? Are ye not of the self-same village?
Authorship:
- by Alma Strettell (1856 - 1939), appears in The bard of the Dimbovitza : Rovmanian folk-songs collected from the peasants
Based on:
- a text in German (Deutsch) by Elisabeth Pauline Ottilie Luise zu Wied, Prinzessin (1843 - 1916), as Carmen Sylva, no title, appears in Lieder aus dem Dimbovitzathal
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]