#441933

Anonymous

Oh, Gaius’ video reminds me of something I’ve posted before, but which I appreciate so much that I’ll post it here as well. Fittingly, it’s also made by Poles, namely the members of the Polish embassy here (or, if you prefer, here’s Epizod’s metal version):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K90wqDYApuI
Members of the Polish embassy reciting Hristo Botev’s “Hadzhi Dimitar” for our Liberation Day in 2016. The poem was written by our famous revolutionary and poet Hristo Botev somewhen in the late 1860s-early 1870s, after the death of the voyvode Hadzhi Dimitar in a fight with the Turks in 1868.

ХАДЖИ ДИМИТЪР
Жив е той, жив е! Там на Балкана,
потънал в кърви лежи и пъшка
юнак с дълбока на гърди рана,
юнак във младост и в сила мъжка.
 
На една страна захвърлил пушка,
на друга сабля на две строшена;
очи темнеят, глава се люшка,
уста проклинат цяла вселена!
 
Лежи юнакът, а на небето
слънцето спряно сърдито пече;
жътварка пее нейде в полето,
и кръвта още по–силно тече!
 
Жътва е сега… Пейте, робини,
тез тъжни песни! Грей и ти, слънце,
в таз робска земя! Ще да загине
и тоя юнак… Но млъкни, сърце!
 
Тоз, който падне в бой за свобода,
той не умира: него жалеят
земя и небе, звяр и природа
и певци песни за него пеят…
 
Денем му сянка пази орлица,
и вълк му кротко раната ближи;
над него сокол, юнашка птица,
и тя се за брат, за юнак грижи!
 
Настане вечер – месец изгрее,
звезди обсипят сводът небесен;
гора зашуми, вятър повее, –
Балканът пее хайдушка песен!
 
И самодиви в бяла премена,
чудни, прекрасни, песен поемнат, –
тихо нагазят трева зелена
и при юнакът дойдат, та седнат.
 
Една му с билки раната върже,
друга го пръсне с вода студена,
третя го в уста целуне бърже, –
и той я гледа, – мила, зесмена!
 
“Кажи ми, сестро де – Караджата?
Де е и мойта вярна дружина?
Кажи ми, пък ми вземи душата, –
аз искам, сестро, тук да загина!”
 
И плеснат с ръце, па се прегърнат,
и с песни хвръкнат те в небесата, –
летят и пеят, дорде осъмнат,
и търсят духът на Караджата…
 
Но съмна вече! И на Балкана
юнакът лежи, кръвта му тече, –
вълкът му ближе лютата рана,
и слънцето пак пече ли – пече!

HADZHI DIMITAR
He’s alive, he’s alive! There on the Balkan Mountain
Drowning in his blood, groaning
A hero lies with a deep wound in his chest
A hero in his youth, in his prime.
 
His rifle’s cast to one side
His broken sword the other;
His eyes dim – his head reels
As his mouth curses the universe!
 
The hero lies, while in the sky
The angry sun bakes down;
A harvest girl sings in far-off field
And his blood flows more quickly now!
 
It’s harvest time … so sing, you slave girls
Sing your sad songs! And you, sun –
Shine on that slavish land! This hero
Will perish too … but be quiet, my heart!
 
He who falls in freedom’s fight
Dies not – he’s mourned
By earth and sky, Nature and beast,
And singers remember him in song…
 
By day a mother eagle lends him shade
And a wolf meekly licks his wound,
While on high a falcon – heroic bird –
Keeps watch over her brother hero!
 
Evening comes – the moon rises
Stars flood the vaulted sky;
The woods rustle, the wind blows –
The Balkan sings a hajdut song!
 
And wood nymphs in white array
Lovely, beautiful, take up the song –
Softly treading the verdant grass
‘Til they reach the hero and sit down.
 
One binds his wound with herbs
Another splashes him with water
A third hastens to kiss his mouth
As he gazes at her – lovely, smiling.
 
“Tell me, sister, where is – Karadzha?
And where is my loyal band?
Tell me – then take my soul –
I want to die here, sister!”
 
They clap their hands, then embrace
And soar into the heavens, singing;
They fly and sing until the dawn
Seeking the spirit of Karadzha…
 
But it’s already dawn! And on the Balkan
The hero lies, his blood flowing –
While the wolf licks his vicious wound,
And the sun bakes on … and on!

Polish accent sounds really cute, btw.

Likewise, the embassy did a similar thing for this year’s Bulgarian Education and Culture and Slavonic Literacy day, with recitations of Stoyah Mihailovsky’s poem “Cyril and Methodius” (an anthem of our education and of the holiday itself), Ivan Vazov’s “The Bulgarian language”, Petko Slaveykov’s “Fatherland”, Peyo Yavorov’s “Homeland”, Ran Bosilek’s “Native speech” and Paisiy Hilendarski’s “Slavo-Bulgarian history”.

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