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Live version "Sir Mannelig" (medieval Scandinavian folk ballad)
English translate:
Spoiler
Early one morning before the sun did rise
And the birds sang their sweet song
The mountain troll proposed to the fair squire
She had a false deceitful tongue
Sir Mannelig, Sir Mannelig won't you marry me
For all that I'll gladly give you
You may answer only yes or no
Will you do so or no
To you I will give the twelve great steeds
That graze in a shady grove
Never has a saddle been mounted on their backs
Nor had a bit in their mouths
To you I will give the twelve fine mills
That stand between Tillo and Terno
The mill stones are made of the reddest brass
And the wheels are silver-laden
To you I will give the gilded sword
That jingles from fifteen gold rings
And strike with it in battle as you will
On the battlefield you will conquer
To you I will give a brand new shirt
The lustrous best for to wear
It is not sewn with needle or thread
But crocheted of the whitest silk
Gifts such as these I would gladly receive
If you were a Christian woman
But I know you are the worst mountain troll
From the spawn of Necken* and the devil
The mountain troll ran out the door
She wailed and she shrieked so loudly
"Had I gotten that handsome squire
From my torment I would be free now"
Sir Mannelig, Sir Mannelig won't you marry me
For all that I'll gladly give you
You may answer only yes or no
Will you do so or no
My sweet love
translate by Richard Coombes
This is a singable, faithful English version of this beautiful song of love and war:
Spoiler
My sweet love
Early morning we went out to the heath
To look straight in the eye our swarming enemy,
And as I stepped away from the door,
I couldn't help turning round just once more ...
... blushing like a rose, my sweet love,
Radiant as the dawn paints the skies above.
We are few, and our swarm of foes is fierce,
We are few, but our line they will not pierce,
After all, behind each one another stands,
Each in battle holding safely in his hands ...
... blushing like a rose, his sweet love,
Radiant as the dawn paints the skies above.
Our swarm of foes spread themselves out in a wall,
Pouring steel like an iron waterfall,
But wall crashed into wall in the fight,
Steel on steel, swarm on swarm, pressing tight,
Shield on shield, spear through chest, a killer's screams,
Sabre's ring, arrow's hiss, blood in streams,
And though dead, upon my feet I shall remain,
And no man can ever take from me again ...
... blushing like a rose, my sweet love,
Radiant as the dawn paints the skies above ...
My slender branch, my willow tree,
My lioness, wild and free.
So many lost we in the fighting that day,
Hardly one returned from the fray,
But you are safe now, far from our last stand,
In the freedom of our native land.
Give me your hand while we are on the middle way.
Give me your hand, how long must we go?
Although we feel tired on our way,
But the road would be easier for us
If we are together...
The start is a long way away
But Moscow has awoken
Amid this celebration
Amid the Earth.
Oh, how they walk tall down the festive streets
The queens of swimming, the kings of boxing...
Ah, varnishing day, varnishing day,
What a portrait, what a scenery
Here's a winter evening, here's sweltering summer heat,
Here's Venetia in spring,
Ah, varnishing day, varnishing day
What a portrait, what a scenery,
Here's someone's profile (someone's face shown from the side),
Here's someone shown en face,
And I'm looking, looking at you.
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The Soviet singers from the republics of Baltica
