On a green Holy Day, from afar
A stranger arrived to sow hope:
“I was sent, my dear people, by God,
A Messiah for you to beget.
Your village is heavy with sins,
And your lies flow in rivers;
But my son shall arise,
By God’s will,
To destroy all the evil and save us.
Bring forth your virgins of sixteen
And I shall pick the chosen and clean.”
He said and sat on the tavern’s fence
Branding all with the strictest glance.
But when they brought the maidens,
He took his head and said,
“We must wait till next year,
For not one is worthy, I fear.”
Then all the villagers who could
Placated the stranger’s mood:
Brought him drink and food
To help him pleasantly survive
Till the next Feast shall arrive
When new virgins shall pass by his eye.
But he shook his head and said,
“Oh, no, we must wait till next year,
For not one is worthy, I fear.”
Winters whiten,
Springs hum with torrents,
While years pass with the clouds.
He still ogles the girls
And each year has his doubts,
Saying sadly,
“For not one is worthy, I fear…”
The villagers, sallow, despondent and sad
Went about with prayers in their heads:
“Shorten our lives, if you must,
But send him the right one, our God!”
On the thirtieth Feast
The obedient beasts,
Tired of waiting his choice
Tiptoed into his house,
Found him dead on the floor.
Cursing sins of the virgins
As the cause of their woe
They took slowly to wash him
And then suddenly saw:
T’was a castrate
Who promised to sire
The hoped for Messiah.
Перекладач: D.S.Struk
Оригінал: Балада про зайшлого чоловіка
Мова: english
