Ἀρχεῖα

The Ballad of Mulan

Mulan

Mulan goes to war

Click-click – back – click-click

facing the door, she weaves,

but we can’t hear the shuttle’s sound,

only this girl sighing.

Whom are you thinking of, my girl?

Whom do you remember?

“I’m not thinking of anyone, no,

and I’m remembering no one.

Last night I saw the draft posters;

the Khan has called a great muster of men.

The army’s list is in twelve rolls,

with Father’s name in every one!

Father has no son of age,

and I’ve no older brother.

I’ll go to the market for saddle and horse,

and fight in the place of my father.”

In the east market, she buys a strong horse,

in the west market, a saddle;

in the south market, a bridle and reins;

in the north market, a long whip.

At dawn she parts from her parents and leaves;

at dusk she encamps by the Yellow River.

She doesn’t hear the voices of father or mother,

only river waters rippling by.

At dawn she goes on, leaving the river;

at dusk she encamps on Black Mountain.

She doesn’t hear the voices of father or mother,

only nomad horses on Mount Yan.

She travels ten thousand miles for war,

seeming to fly over mountains.

The north wind carries the watchman’s rattle;

a cold light gleams on iron armour.

Generals die in a hundred battles;

ten years later, strong soldiers come home.

On her return, she sees the Son of Heaven;

he sits in the Hall of Light.

He grants promotions of twelve ranks,

gives hundreds and thousands in reward.

The Khan asks Mulan what she wants:

“I don’t need an official position,

only to borrow a thousand-mile camel

to carry me back to my village.”

When her parents heard she was coming home,

they went outside the walls to welcome her.

When her sister heard she was coming home,

she put on her makeup, facing the door.

When her brother heard she was coming home,

he sharpened a knife for the pigs and sheep.

“I open my chamber door to the east;

I sit on my bed to the west.

I take off my wartime apparel,

and put on my old-time clothes.”

Facing the window, she does her cloudlike hair;

facing the mirror, she fastens yellow flowers.

She goes out of doors to meet her companions,

and finds them standing amazed:

twelve years’ travel together,

not knowing she was a woman!

“The male hare’s feet hop and skip;

the female hare’s eyes always wander.

But when both run on the ground together,

who can tell which is male, which is female?”

木兰辞

唧唧复唧唧,

木兰当户织。

不闻机杼声,

唯闻女叹息。

问女何所思?

问女何所忆?

女亦无所思,

女亦无所忆。

昨夜见军帖,

可汗大点兵。

军书十二卷,

卷卷有爷名!

阿爷无大儿,

木兰无长兄。

愿为市鞍马,

从此替爷征。

东市买骏马,

西市买鞍鞯,

南市买辔头,

北市买长鞭。

朝辞爷娘去,

暮宿黄河边。

不闻爷娘唤女声,

但闻黄河流水鸣溅溅。

旦辞黄河去,

暮至黑山头。

不闻爷娘唤女声,

但闻燕山胡骑声啾啾。

万里赴戎机,

关山度若飞。

朔气传金柝,

寒光照铁衣。

将军百战死,

壮士十年归。

归来见天子,

天子坐明堂。

策勋十二转,

赏赐百千强。

可汗问所欲,

“木兰不用尚书郎,

愿借明驼千里足,

送儿还故乡。”

爷娘闻女来,

出郭相扶将。

阿姊闻妹来,

当户理红妆。

小弟闻姊来,

磨刀霍霍向猪羊。

“开我东阁门,

坐我西阁床。

脱我战时袍,

著我旧时裳。”

当窗理云鬓,

对镜贴花黄。

出门看伙伴,

伙伴皆惊惶。

同行十二年,

不知木兰是女郎。

“雄兔脚扑朔,

雌兔眼迷离;

两兔傍地走,

安能辨我是雄雌!”

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Three rose leaf flowers

by Angela Zanté

Once upon a time,

danced on internet crime,

I saw a Photo Graph

published on  facebook
by Zoe O’Graf:

——————-

Under the  wooden sole / soul

there are three rose leaf flowers,

even if  a wind has blown,

The sea’s  sweet kissing the hours.

Τρεις ροδοπέταλοι ανθοί

της Αγγελικής Ζαντέ

Mια φορά κι έναν καιρό,

στου διαδικτύου το χορό,

είδα μία φωτογραφία που

δημοσίευσε στο facebook η

Ευανθία:

——————-

Τρεις ροδοπέταλοι ανθοί,

στου ξύλου την πατούσα,

ο άνεμος κι αν φύσηξε,

θάλασσα ήταν η γλυκοφιλούσα.

Goodnight and good collaboration

by Angela Zanté

I like children’s fairy tales,
without beans but with lots of chickpeas.
I cooked this tale for
my girlfriend Sue:

“happiness in Collaboration’s Constellation ”

She, the little happiness, slept and  a tear felt!

She  cried without knowing why.

Then a cricket knocked on her door :

Tok-Tok!

She  opened it,

it sang to her and

she smiled.

But,

when it left,

her tears  flowed again.

she thought:

I ‘d like to  have a cricket

as a friend to

sing for me.

then a nightingale passed  by

it warbled,

she smiled but,

the little nightingale flew far away

—————-

Is it possible to have  a good time

listening to tunes by a passersby?

—————-

She  thought :

I’ll make friends and

learn music.

Soon she  went

to the cricket and asked it:

how do you sing,

can you teach me?

it snarled but

taught her how to.

She went to the Nightingale  too

and asked it:

how do you warble,

will you show me?

It put all its strength

and showed her how to.

—————-

So the little happiness made

friends and learned music.

Since then she is happy and

when she cries

she cries only with joy.

Goodnight and good collaboration

M’ αρέσουν τα παιδικά παραμύθια,

χωρίς κουκιά μα με μπόλικα ρεβίθια.

Αυτό το παραμύθι το μαγείρεψα

στη φίλη μου τη Σου: κι είναι

«Η ευτυχία στον αστερισμό της συνεργασίας»

της Αγγελικής Ζαντέ

η μικρή ευτυχία κοιμήθηκε μ΄ ένα δάκρυ!

έκλαιγε χωρίς να ξέρει το γιατί.

τότε την πόρτα της χτύπησε

ένας γρύλος: τόκ-τόκ!!!

του άνοιξε

αυτός της τραγούδησε κι αυτή

του χαμογέλασε.

μα όταν έφυγε,

ξανά το δάκρυ κύλησε.

σκέφτηκε: θάθελα

να χω… ένα γρύλο για φίλο,

να μου τραγουδά.

μετά πέρασε τ’ αηδόνι

της τραγούδησε,

του χαμογέλασε,

αλλά κι αυτό πέταξε μακριά..

μα είναι δυνατόν

να περνάω καλά ακούγοντας

μελωδίες από τους περαστικούς;

θα κάνω φίλους

και θα μάθω μουσική σκέφτηκε.

πήγε, μια και δυό,

στο γρύλο και τον ρώτησε:

πως τραγουδάς, θα μου μάθεις;

κι εκείνος γρύλισε αλλά

της έμαθε.

πήγε και στ΄ αηδόνι:

πως κελαηδάς θα μου δείξεις; το ρώτησε.

Κι εκείνο έβαλε

όλες του τις δυνάμεις και

της έδειξε.

έτσι η μικρή ευτυχία έκανε

φίλους κι έμαθε μουσική.

από τότε έγινε

ευτυχισμένη κι όταν δάκρυζε,

δάκρυζε μόνο από χαρά.

Καληνύχτα και καλή συνεργασία