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The Caravan
In the dark rocky hills,
In the tall rocky hills,
In the night when the moon travels in clouds,
A rider's caravan awakened.
They ride and chant at the mountain's foot.
They ride alone
There in the canyon, near the sea.
With sadness beat their hearts, deadly hurt their backs,
Their gaze wanders in the stars.
But against the wind, as one man, moves — moves ahead a convoy of riders …
They ride …
They left for the road in a storm,
They went to end the siege.
But somewhere in the canyon's heart,
When the rifles thundered,
Captured was the convoy of riders …
They ride …
Over are the sounds of the battle,
Quiet are the cannons
And we return to our good homes;
But comes night
There still rides,
Rides the convoy of riders.
They ride and sing in the hills' paths,
But the path to the sea will never come,
never … never …
Night of Roses
Evening of roses, let us go out to the hothouse.
Myrrh, incense and perfume will be the threshold to your feet.
Night descends slowly, the breeze brings in the rose's aroma,
Come, I will whisper you a song, a song of love.
The pigeon cooed in dawn, your head is covered with dew.
Your lips, my rose, I pluck.
Shepherd's Song
We will soon reach the waters of the stream
The sheep got thirsty in the mountains.
How green are the fields, here blossoms,
An acacia by the herd.
My beautiful, the sheep scattered from your pasture,
I will hurry and gather the scattered.
Come to me, my little, first-born lamb
And caress me, in these hills.
Dance, dance, dance with a song,
Sing a song while shearing — ho!
The wool will be off till there is none,
Every shepherd will rejoice — ho!
Hand in hand the shepherds danced,
Killed was the sheep in the valley.
What did the chosen daughters desire,
Whose hearts first longed for the shepherds?
Dance, dance, dance with a song,
Sing a song while shearing — ho!
The wool will be off till there is none
Every shepherd will rejoice — ho!
Tobacco Road
Father is an old man, a do-nothing is he
All day he dozes in the tree's shade.
Don't know what's a bite of food,
The old man snores there and dreams.
Forsaken land is the tobacco road,
All yellow thorns and dusty clouds.
To a ruffian the old man sold me,
For the price of a sack of turnips.
All day cotton, oh! I pick
And at night with him I sleep.
My hair is red, a delight to the eye.
But this pervert — his look
Burns my body, that hadn't a dress yet.
He doesn't love me, doesn't love.
Who will take me from the tobacco road,
All yellow thorns and dusty clouds?
The Jackal
Ho, ho, what are the sounds there in the night?
Ho, the jackal howls.
Ho, ho, why does the jackal howl there in the night?
Because he is hungry.
Ho, ho, what are the sounds there in the night?
Ho, a child cries.
Ho, ho, why does a child cry there in the night?
Because it is hungry.
Lovely Apple
The tree swung, the wind caressed and kissed his crown,
There in the garden my darling picked an apple, with sunny laughter.
I wish I were the tree, she the wind, she would kiss me then,
Oh, pick me, lovely apple.
Oh, when will the day come and I will raise my voice,
My darling, come on down to talk in my garden.
There in the garden a tree swung.
Song of the Vagabond
Long is the road and great,
Long is the road and full of glory.
Everyone walks the road to the very end
Everyone walks the road to the bitter end.
But I, but I,
Alone do I march — Hallelujah!
And I sing, and I sing
Songs of the vagabond — Hallelujah!
One lifted his face to the golden gold,
One lifted his face to the good gold.
One found a lover that loved and loved,
One found a lover that loved him.
I don't want a house with a field, a field,
I don't want a house with a green field; Because laughter is the reward I get, I get,
Because laughter is my reward, answering with laughter.
My voice sings, my voice sings,
But you are the echo — Hallelujah!
Wail, what a song, what a song,
If there is no echo, no echo — Hallelujah!
The tree at the roadside will slowly blacken,
The tree at the roadside will slowly get very black.
Off are the lanterns in the whole town, whole town,
Off are the lanterns in all this town.
Lights Out
A long way went the regiment to the desert,
A deep path they passed and passed,
No end to the road. To the top of the rock reached the trumpet's sound:
Night came to the desert, accompanied by smoking torches and a sleepy drum's beat.
The moon lights the skies,
with a face of blood.
The soldiers sang their song to the mountain.
The tired regiment would rest in the desert.
They sang to the echo of the drum, to the top of the rock,
And the trumpets will sound.
May peace spread over our tent in the desert.
Deep into the abyss stepped the regiment, and went.
The steps reached the top of the rock,
And the trumpets will sound.
The Fleece
Don't harm my little sheep,
She is so soft and tender.
Don't harm my little sheep,
She is just only getting up.
Last night, at midnight,
A sheep gave birth in my tent.
Oh, ho, it vanished,
Down the hill went my little sheep.
Don't harm my little sheep,
She is indeed so heavy.
Don't harm my little sheep
She is all wrapped up.
She wears long bushy wool,
She licked my shoe.
Oh, ho, it vanished,
Down the hill went my little sheep.
Don't harm my little sheep,
She is all shorn.
Don't harm my little sheep,
She is all uncovered.
Before the morning shiver I will lead her by my hand.
Oh, ho, it vanished.
Down the hill went my little sheep.
The Flute
The flute …
Simple, gentle, with a lovely sound.
The flute …
Like the murmur of the brook,
Like a child's song,
Like the charming breeze in the orange grove,
The flute …
The tune of the flute, for the tree, for the cloud
The tune of the flute for the cattle's lair,
The tune of the flute for my little brother,
The tune of the flute for the hills and mountains,
The flute …
Who listens to it knows,
Knows very well,
It will stir imagination
And he will follow the tune
Like the charming breeze in the orange grove.
The flute …
The Earth
Earth, my earth, my comfort until death.
A great phantom boiled up your ruin,
A great phantom boiled up.
I married you in blood for life and death.
A star engraved you on the Sheik hills.
A dancer that whirls, round and round, in circles.
My sunlight I choose forever,
My sunlight I choose,
Day and night my toil is my majesty.
A star engraved you on the Sheik hills.
My Field
In tears I sowed my field at dawn.
Heard was the farmer's prayer,
My field, from the dew she quenched her thirst, like a drunkard,
After the sun's heat.
In a while she stood upright.
In large steps the sickle would cut down, and then swept up and up.
The sickle cut down, swept up, swept up, swept up.