Săbărelu

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Sit my friends and listen
Put your glasses down
Sit my friends and listen
To the voices of the drowned
—The Pogues, "The Wake of the Medusa"



Săbărelu

I call it a soft, green garland, The Arges, big as it is, Hasn’t the charm of the Săbărel. The tiny Săbărel, hey … Love thrives on its abundance. Oh, Didina, Didina, oh. The Săbărel, with its sweetness, Flows all winter and doesn’t freeze. Oh, Didina, Didina, oh. Green leaf, marjoram, hey; I cam up from the valley onto the hill, And I look out on the Sabar, hey. I saw the Sabar girls bleaching. Bleaching cloth, hey, oh, Didina, Didina, oh. You can see their feet, hey. Their feet as white as swans, hey. Oh, Didina, Didina, oh. The Săbărel, with its sweetness, Flows all winter and doesn’t freeze. Oh, Didina, Didina, hey.

But around Epiphany It flows as cold as a floe of ice, You draw it up onto the green bank And drink sweet water, oh, so sweet. Oh, Didina, Didina, oh. But around Epiphany It flows as cold as a floe of ice. You draw it up onto the green bank And drink sweet water, oh, so sweet. Nana, nana, ah, my darling. May God bring the rain pouring down So that the Neajlov will rise, May God bring the rain pouring down. So that Neajlov will rise And sweep the bridge out of the valley. And sweep the bridge out of the valley. Nana, nana, ah, my darling. Leaving only poles, Leaving only sundered poles, And drown all the Neajlov men.