The girl danced to death
71.
Good day, good day
To Mistress Sari the magistrate's wife,
To mistress Sari the magistrate's wife,
And to her daughter Kati!
Come in, daughter Kati,
Young men have come to invite you
To the town Sari
Where a wedding will be held.
I will not go, mother, I will not go,
For I know it will not turn out well;
Janos Arvadi is going now
To feast his wedding day.
Put on, daughter Kati,
Your fine silk skirt,
Put on and wear on your feet,
Put on your crimson boots!
Take your ten pairs of golden rings
And put them all on your fingers;
Let them break the heart
Of your sweetheart!
Good evening, good evening
To Janos Arvadi!
I have arrived, among others,
To the wedding feast.
Come and dance with me,
Come and entertain yourself for a short while!
I will not go with you,
Because your sleeves are greasy!
Come and dance with me,
Come and entertain yourself for a short while!
And I will now go with you,
Because your sleeves are no longer greasy!
Play, gipsy, till noon,
From noon till evening,
From evening to dawn,
Till bright daybreak is shining!
Let me got to rest,
For I am near to die!
My fine silk skirt
has stuck to my body
I don't mind if you die,
Nor if you depart from this world;
If you did not become mine,
You shall not become anyone else's!
Play, gipsy, till noon,
From noon till evening,
From evening to dawn,
Till bright daybreak is shining!
Let me go to rest,
For I am near to die,
The ten pairs of golden rings
Are tight on my fingers!
I don't mind if you die,
Nor if you depart from this world;
If you did not become mine,
You shall not become anyone else's.
Let me go to rest,
For I am near to die,
The shanks of my boots
Are full of clotted blood!
I don't mind if you die,
Nor if you depart from this world;
If you did not become mine,
You shall not become anyone else's.
Play, gipsy, till noon,
From noon till evening,
From evening todawn,
Till she is laid out on the bier!
Take me, coachman, take me,
Let's go home quickly!
Open, mother, open
Your painted gate,
Make, mother, make
Your quilted bed,
Let me give a rest
To my wearied limbs!
Good day, good day
To Mistress Sari the magistrate's wife,
To mistress Sari the magistrate's wife,
And to her daughter Kati!
Well, dear mother,
How does Kati fare now?
Well, dear mother,
How does Kati fare now?
Kati fares well enough already,
And there is nothing the matter with her,
She is laid out
In the middle of the house.
Are you going to order
A coffin of walnut-wood to be made for her?
I am going, mother, to order
A coffin of marble to be made for her.
Are you going to order
The triple bells to be tolled?
I am going, mother to order
All the sixteen to be tolled.
Are you going to order
Her body to be taken out to some pit?
I am going, mother, to order
Her body to be taken to the mournful graveyard.
Are you going to order
A beggar to carry her out?
I am going, mother, to order
Sixteen gendarmes to carry her out.
Cursed be the father,
Seven times cursed the mother,
Who let their only daughter
Go to the ball.
She let her go in the evening,
She did not look for her in the morning,
And finally, on the third day,
She saw her brought home dead!
Tapioszele (Pest county), performed by a group of girls. Bartok 1906=Bartok 176a.
72.
Good evening, good evening
Mistress Csati the magistrate's wife!
No doubt, my dear sweetheart
Is already asleep?
Wake up, wake her up,
And send her to the ball,
Let her put on
A silk skirt blue as the blue sky!
Let her tie a silk kerchief
Red as the red flame round her neck!
Let her put ten pairs of golden rings
On her fingers!
Let her put ten pairs of golden rings
On her fingers,
Let her put on
Her boots of cordovan leather!
Let her put on
Her boots of cordovan leather,
And so send her to me,
To pass the time in the ball till morning!
Good evening, good evening!
Why did you send for me?
Come and sit beside me, have a drink!
And you will soon learn all about it.
Play, gipsies,
From evening till morning,
Till [the magistrate's wife] Mistress Csati's
Daughter goes asleep!
Let me go out, let me go out,
Let me go to rest,
Let me pour the blood
Out of my cordovan boots!
You cannot, you cannot,
It's no time for you to go out,
For the musician
Is hired to play till morning!
Cursed, cursed
The dear mother,
Who lets her daughter
To go to the ball in the evening.
She lets her go in the evening,
She does not see her till morning,
And at eight in the morning
She sees her brought home dead.
Good morning, good morning,
Mistress Csati magistrate's wife!
No doubt, my dear sweetheart
Has already died!
She has died, she has died,
And she has been buried, too.
Although her name
Is not forgotten.
Although her name
Is not forgotten.
You shall suffer, you scoundrel, for her,
to the end of your life in prison!