leqsebi

VIOLET ON THE MOUNTAIN
O Sun, come on inside!
I’ve no clothes or shoes to wear,
O Sun, come on inside!
My spindle and my distaff,
O Sun, come on inside!
Come back to me quickly,
O Sun, come on inside!
I will sew a shirt now,
O Sun, come on inside!
And I’ll sew a fine red dress,
O Sun, come on inside!
Longed-for, blowing in the wind,
O Sun, come on inside!
Come back to me quickly,
O Sun, come on inside!
The land of souls
Those cut off from the sun’s domain
Gather in the land of souls.
In the land of souls, young people
Come together in one place.
They light candles, beeswax tapers,
Set the table for a banquet.
In the land of souls, old people
Sit down at the table’s head.
The young folks, in prime of life,
All rise to their feet and chant.
Lovely women, wives and sisters,
Sit there in the candlelight.
Newly-sundered wives and husbands
Show up in the land of souls;
There is no light in their eyes,
There comes no sound from their lips.
The old people, gazing on them,
Burn with sorrow for their fate.
Small children in the land of souls
Wander, searching for their mothers;
When the day draws to a close,
They ofttimes become distressed;
They recall their mothers’ breasts,
With nought to suck on but their thumbs.
75