CCLVIII. BARTÓK, Béla (1881-1945)
The title Hungarian Folksongs can lead you down a neverending path for the right set: this is the group of ten, collected in 1906, and later made into a suite of five in 1928 (1, 2, 4, 9 and 8 of this set) ...
In this earlier set, Bartók doubled the voice part in the piano. In the later set, he wrote the piano part with new harmonies and no voice doubling.
Ergo, we are hearing here a more realistic version of the original folksongs:
1. Elindultam szép hazámbul (I left my fair homeland)
Far behind I left my country,
Fair among her valleys sleeping.
On the roadway once I looked back,
Looked, and found that I was weeping.
2. Által mennék én a Tiszán ladikon (I would cross the Tisza in a boat)
By the river I will take a little boat, row across the running tide.
There she lives, ah, there she lives, my pretty love, close upon the waterside.
By the river lies the town, narrow, narrow runs the street.
Summer roses flower at her window there, violets and lilies sweet.
3. Fehér László lovat lopott (Fehér László stole a horse)
László Fehér stole a stallion,
Rode away across the mountains.
On the mountain pass they caught him,
In the prison gate they brought him.
Anna Fehér heard the story,
Heart her brother had been taken.
"Coachman, drive me, I must see hm,
Bringing gold enough to free him."
"Now good morning prison captain."
"Now good morning, pretty maiden!
For such girls I've always leisure.
Tell me, sweetheart, what's your pleasure?"
László Fehér stole a stallion,
Over lonely mountain riding.
Hey! On the mountain pass they caught him,
In the prison gate they brought him.
4. A gyulai kert alatt (Behind the garden Gyula)
In the summer fields a fine harvet grows,
In the fields a brown-haired boy reaping goes.
At his side I bind the leaves, rosemary and rue.
I am sure he loves me best, loves me true.
In the fields I dropped my spurs as I passed.
Go, my love, and try to find what I lost.
What a treasure, what a prize home to me you'll bring.
If you find my silver spurs, make them ring.
5. A kertmegi kert alatt (Behind the garden of Kertmeg)
I was in a garden green, free from care,
When I met a pretty girl walking there;
With her apron full of leaves from the linden tree,
She with kind and friendly words answered me.
6. Ablakomba, ablakomba (In my window shone the moonlight)
Through my window falls the moonlight
Shining from the sky above.
He who turns from this to that one
Soon will be deceived in love.
One I cherished, loved him only
Yet he left me, left me lonely.
He it was who stole my treasure
Broke my heart, deserted me.
7. Száraz ágtól messze virit (From the withered branch)
Roses blossom, roses wither, droop and fall.
Now I wish I'd never loved you half as well.
Love's a sorrow, love's a burden full of pain;
I begin to wish my heart were free again.
Yet for love's sake I must gather flower and thorn.
I could never leave you, dearest love, forlorn.
8. Végig mentem a tárkányi (I walked to the end)
Brisk and early, long before the noise of day began,
Passing by my darling's window, I looked in.
There she spread her pretty yellow counterpane so neat,
Swept her floor and sprinkled it with summer flowers sweet.
9. Nem messze van ide kis Margitta (Not far from here is kis Margitta)
Lies a village hidden in this valley.
Winds the river, wood and field grow green there.
At the tavern drinking sits a horseman,
Down at heart and silent, all alone there.
Close behind the men of law come riding.
Down the street they spur their horses faster.
"Greetings to you, greetings, pretty hostess.
Here's a fine black horse, and who's the master?"
"There he sits, he drinks away his sorrow,
Saying he will ride away tomorrow."
"Call the owner of this find black horse, then.
Will he come himself or shall we make him?"
"You can wait all day, but I'm not coming.
If you want my horse, you'd better take him.
I'll not miss my horse, though he's worth keeping.
But I'll miss my saddle of fine leather.
Hidden in it, safe and sound, my purse lies,
Full of gold and silver mixed together."
10. Szánt a babám csireg, csörög (My sweetheart is ploughing)
Now my love has gone aploughing.
Loud his harness rings.
Down the furrow how straight his silver ploughshare swings.
Earth is heavy. Yet his oxen break it free.
In our village where'a lover half so strong as he?
Never pile the cart so high then.
Can't you hear me call?
Sheaves are heavy.
Drive away and down they fall.
See this pitch-fork.
This can graze and cut your palm.
Such a heavy shaft can only hurt you, do you harm.
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