Mioriţa "The Little Ewe"- Vasile Alexandri

Mioriţa "The Little Ewe" is an old Romanian pastoral ballad and considered one of the most important pieces of Romanian folklore. It has several, quite different in content versions, one of which was selected by Vasile Alecsandri to the form the textbook reference.

English Version	Romanian Version
Near a low foothill	Pe-un picior de plai,
At Heaven’s doorsill,	Pe-o gură de rai,
Where the trail’s descending	Iată vin în cale,
To the plain and ending,	Se cobor la vale,
Here three shepherds keep	Trei turme de miei,
Their three flocks of sheep,	Cu trei ciobănei.
One, Moldavian,	Unu-i moldovan,
One, Transylvanian	Unu-i ungurean
And one, Vrancean.	Şi unu-i vrâncean.
Now, the Vrancean	Iar cel ungurean
And the Transylvanian	Şi cu ce-l vrâncean,
In their thoughts, conniving,	Mări, se vorbiră,
Have laid plans, contriving	Ei se sfătuiră
At the close of day	Pe l-apus de soare
To ambush and slay	Ca să mi-l omoare
The Moldavian;	Pe cel moldovan,
He, the wealthier one,	Că-i mai ortoman
Had more flocks to keep,	Ş-are oi mai multe,
Handsome, long-horned sheep,	Mândre şi cornute,
Horses, trained and sound,	Şi cai învăţaţi,
And the fiercest hounds.	Şi câni mai bărbaţi,
One small ewe-lamb, though,	Dar cea mioriţă,
Dappled gray as tow,	Cu lână plăviţă,
While three full days passed	De trei zile-ncoace
Bleated loud and fast;	Gura nu-i mai tace,
Would not touch the grass.	Iarba nu-i mai place.
”Ewe-lamb, dapple-gray,	- Mioriţă laie,
Muzzled black and gray,	Laie bucălaie,
While three full days passed	De trei zile-ncoace
You bleat loud and fast;	Gura nu-ţi mai tace!
Don’t you like this grass?	Ori iarba nu-ţi place,
Are you too sick to eat,	Ori eşti bolnăvioară,
Little lamb so sweet?”	Drăguţă mioară?
”Oh my master dear,	- Drăguţule bace,
Drive the flock out near	Dă-ţi oile-ncoace,
That field, dark to view,	La negru zăvoi,
Where the grass grows new,	Că-i iarbă de noi
Where there’s shade for you.	Şi umbră de voi.
”Master, master dear,	Stăpâne, stăpâne,
Call a large hound near,	Îţi cheamă ş-un câine,
A fierce one and fearless,	Cel mai bărbătesc
Strong, loyal and peerless.	Şi cel mai frăţesc,
The Transylvanian	Că l-apus de soare
And the Vrancean	Vreau să mi te-omoare
When the daylight’s through	Baciul ungurean
Mean to murder you.”	Şi cu cel vrâncean!
”Lamb, my little ewe,	- Oiţă bârsană,
If this omen’s true,	De eşti năzdrăvană,
If I’m doomed to death	şi de-a fi să mor
On this tract of heath,	în câmp de mohor,
Tell the Vrancean	Să spui lui vrâncean
And Transylvanian	Şi lui ungurean
To let my bones lie	Ca să mă îngroape
Somewhere here close by,	Aice, pe-aproape,
By the sheepfold here	În strunga de oi,
So my flocks are near,	Să fiu tot cu voi;
Back of my hut’s grounds	În dosul stânii
So I’ll hear my hounds.	Să-mi aud cânii.
Tell them what I say:	Aste să le spui,
There, beside me lay	Iar la cap să-mi pui
One small pipe of beech	Fluieraş de fag,
With its soft, sweet speech,	Mult zice cu drag;
One small pipe of bone	Fluieraş de os,
With its loving tone,	Mult zice duios;
One of elderwood,	Fluieraş de soc,
Fiery-tongued and good.	Mult zice cu foc!
Then the winds that blow	Vântul, când a bate,
Would play on them so	Prin ele-a răzbate
All my listening sheep	Ş-oile s-or strânge,
Would draw near and weep	Pe mine m-or plânge
Tears, no blood so deep.	Cu lacrimi de sânge!
How I met my death,	Iar tu de omor
Tell them not a breath;	Să nu le spui lor.
Say I could not tarry,	Să le spui curat
I have gone to marry	Că m-am însurat
A princess – my bride	Cu-o mândră crăiasă,
Is the whole world’s pride.	A lumii mireasă;
At my wedding, tell	Că la nunta mea
How a bright star fell,	A căzut o stea;
Sun and moon came down	Soarele şi luna
To hold my bridal crown,	Mi-au ţinut cununa.
Firs and maple trees	Brazi şi paltinaşi
Were my guests; my priests	I-am avut nuntaşi,
Were the mountains high;	Preoţi, munţii mari,
Fiddlers, birds that fly,	Paseri, lăutari,
All birds of the sky;	Păserele mii,
Torchlights, stars on high.	Şi stele făclii!
But if you see there,	Iar dacă-i zări,
Should you meet somewhere,	Dacă-i întâlni
My old mother, little,	Măicuţă bătrână,
With her white wool girdle,	Cu brâul de lână,
Eyes with their tears flowing,	Din ochi lăcrimând,
Over the plains going,	Pe câmpi alergând,
Asking one and all,	Pe toţi întrebând
Saying to them all,	Şi la toţi zicând:
’Who has ever known,	"Cine-a cunoscut,
Who has seen my own	Cine mi-a văzut
Shepherd fine to see,	Mândru ciobănel,
Slim as a willow tree,	Tras printr-un inel?
With his dear face, bright	Feţişoara lui,
As the milk-foam, white,	Spuma laptelui;
His small moustache, right	Musteţioara lui,
As the young wheat’s ear,	Spicul grâului;
With his hair so dear,	Perişorul lui,
Like plumes of the crow	Peana corbului;
Little eyes that glow	Ochişorii lui,
Like the ripe black sloe?’	Mura câmpului?"
Ewe-lamb, small and pretty,	Tu, mioara mea,
For her sake have pity,	Să te-nduri de ea
Let it just be said	Şi-i spune curat
I have gone to wed	Că m-am însurat
A princess most noble	Cu-o fată de crai,
There on Heaven’s doorsill.	Pe-o gură de rai.
To that mother, old,	Iar la cea măicuţă
Let it not be told	Să nu spui, drăguţă,
That a star fell, bright,	Că la nunta mea
For my bridal night;	A căzut o stea,
Firs and maple trees	C-am avut nuntaşi
Were my guests, priests	Brazi şi paltinaşi,
Were the mountains high;	Preoţi, munţii mari,
Fiddlers, birds that fly,	Paseri, lăutari,
All birds of the sky;	Păserele mii,
Torchlights, stars on high.”	Şi stele făclii!