Magic upon this special eve descends upon the square
The eldest of the elders parades in embroidered cloak
Beneath church towers old and young are gathered there
The old ones are prepared and the young have brought the goat
The sun has opened up the lazy eye
Now slumber of the winter shall lessen by the day
Sweet music in the air signals merriment is nigh
Let the eve begin and climb upon the sleigh
Light your candles and let your lanterns be held up high
Knock upon each door and let the household hear your voice
A greeting poem written with care begs a welcome cry
Ask of your host permission to sing a carol of their choice
Sing well for the household then prepare the dance
Let sweet notes to mark this eve echo from your throat
Make way there is one who wishes to advance
For now comes the moment to lead out the goat
Let the blessing be recited by all who know
For those present know the goat must stamp its feet
Where goes the goat ‘tis where the wheat will grow
For each stamp shall yield the seven sheaves of wheat
Now the goat this night has risen from the dead
Let the children bless each room about the house
Where those ready for slumber kneel and prayers are said
For every creature large or small from ox to mouse
The kutya with such care has been prepared
The wood upon the stove is burning fierce and bright
Berries nuts butter fruit and honey shall be shared
A new year begins so sing to greet the light
There’s a didukh proudly standing near the table
Heads of oat wheat and rye together have been bound
A ribboned grandfather preserved by fable
Sleeps until Mara dances and seeds leap from the ground
Time now to move on my lads and lassies fair
Twixt dusk and dawn every home must be blessed
The seeds of sunflower shall subdue the bear
For peace and prosperity make this kolyada request
Copyright: David Hopcroft December 2022
didukh is the grandfather sheaf, kolyada is the winter solstice, kutya is a food prepared for the solstice, Mara a pre-Christian goddess of spring
Коляда
У цей вечір у цьому селі збираються
Розповідь про минуле, яке відроджується
уважно слухай казку, яку я зіплету
Де, можливо, з'явився король-сонце
Магія в цей особливий переддень сходить на площу
Старший із старших дефілює у вишитому плащі
Там під вежами костелів зібралися старі й малі
Старі готові, а молоді привели козу
Сонце розкрило ледаче око
Тепер сон зимовий з кожним днем слабшає Солодка музика в повітрі сигналізує про наближення веселощів Нехай вечір починається і лізе на сани Запаліть свої свічки і нехай ваші ліхтарі піднімуться високо Стукайте в кожні двері, і нехай домочадці почують ваш голос Вітальний вірш, написаний ретельно, викликає вітальний крик Попросіть у господаря дозволу заспівати колядку на свій вибір
Заспівай гарно для домочадців, потім приготуй танець Дозвольте солодким ноткам, щоб відзначити цей переддень, лунає у вашому горлі Зробіть дорогу тому, хто бажає просунутися А поки настав час виводити козу Нехай прочитають благословення всі, хто знає Присутні знають, що коза повинна тупотіти ногами Куди коза піде, там і пшениця виросте За кожну марку дадуть сім снопів пшениці
Тепер козел цієї ночі воскрес із мертвих Нехай діти благословлять кожну кімнату в будинку Де ті, хто готовий спати, стають на коліна і читають молитви За кожну істоту, велику чи малу, від вола до миші З такою дбайливістю готувалася кутя Дрова на печі горять люто й яскраво Ягоди, горіхи, вершкове масло, фрукти та мед слід розділити Новий рік починається, тож співайте, щоб світло привітати
Біля столу гордо стоїть дідух Головки вівса, пшениці та жита були зв’язані разом Стрічений дід, збережений байкою Спить, поки Мара не затанцює і насіння не вискочить із землі Тепер час рухатися далі, мої хлопці та дівчата У вечірні сутінки і світанок кожен дім повинен бути благословенним Насіння соняшнику підкорить ведмедя Для миру і процвітання зверни цю коляду
Авторське право: Девід Хопкрофт, грудень 2022
р дідух – дідух сніп, коляда – зимове сонцестояння, кутя – їжа, яку готують на сонцестояння, Мара – дохристиянська богиня весни.
Sunday was a big day in the village Chapel full to overflowing Cars were parked down every street Everyone a’coming and going The organ inside echoing All to stand, about to sing.
They’d come from all the surrounding farms To see the young babe in her arms To make sure he’d not live in shame To chapel he’d come To get his name.
There was John the post and John the farmer John the brickie and John the slater John the bus and John the builder John the shop and John the cobbler John the actor and John the tractor John the elder and John the welder Every one an uncle John.
Behind them in one long procession Came his cousins in succession John the coalman, John the boatman, John the sheep, John the sweep, John who mumbles, John who grumbles, John the jaw, John the law John the news, John the booze. Even Smokey was there (His real name’s John) Those are the only ones I know Every one they say is a cousin They were all there by the dozen.
Then there were all his nephews. John from Llangefni and John from Rhosneigr John from Llanberis and John from Llanbedr John from Llanfaelog and John from Bethel He’s the son of Uncle John’s Ethel.
The minister stood there in his cloak of white Everyone craned their necks to get a good sight Mother handed him over with a smile Father stood proudly in the aisle Aunties there were by the score The rest of the village Squeezed in at the door; John Jones, John Evan John Ellis, John Bevan John Jones, John Owen John Pritchard, John Bowen John Lewis, John Preece John Edwards, John Rhys.
Now inside the chapel there came a hush Not a sound to be heard from anyone Except for the minister, Who said, with much grace “Welcome son, I name you John !”
As is the custom, when the service has ended They went of to the pub for a great celebration. They had named him John So none were offended. Except Will But how he got his name Is a mystery To me !
Soft shifting colours of the sun spreading o’er the sky Dunes moving slowly inland beyond the rolling tides Messages beneath the sand once carried overseas Peace out upon the headland where the old bones lie A burial from an apron where the spirit still abides Where once a mystery was brewed, some deity to please. Now there’s a sense of magic just hanging in the air Like a shadow that deceives; on turning its not there A mystery that deepens might lift the veil of despair
Spirits who would fly upon this night Come join with us upon a Beltane eve When sun is gone and moon is bright Join with our sister ‘ere you leave
Time-trodden turf now covers earth above the stones Where believers once steered a course across the seas Nibbling sheep these pastures keep for us this day Flaring torches blaze a path towards the ancient bones Swaying bodies moving forwards; lights that could deceive. A place to meet, a time to keep, no reason for delay Our sister struggled as she wandered through the gloom Shadows closing on her life seemingly bringing doom Until midwinter’s solstice rays lit up the passage in her tomb
Cauldron grail and chalice bring To bless virgin lover and the whore Candles alight now form the ring Waves are breaking on the shore
Once again upon the headland the sounds of voices chanting, Calling to a goddess dwelling far below within the earth. The Shamanka casts the circle with a flaming brand From the coven is a welcome to the sister they are binding There are no dreary dirges dragging, only the sound of mirth Round and round the sisters circle, moving hand in hand Favours may be granted by the power within the spell Hear the drumbeats rising, listen to the cyhyraeth yell. What fate awaits the sister ? Only seers can foretell.
Flowing from the wells, running in the streams Tylwyth teg are working magic with the moon Deep inside our hearts, asleep within our dreams Cast the stones to find the message of the rune
Within the encircled mound lies the sleeping soul of Mona Forgotten on an island where sheep now graze upon her grave In their drumming and their chanting, sisters are awakening Lost memories returning, of Rhiannon, Ceridwen and Epona The serpent still is waiting by the entrance to the cave Within the altar now is burning, cauldrons slowly heating In the bay the goddess dances upon white-crested waves Around the mound the sisters dance, no longer to be slaves Within the chamber of the sidhe another party raves
Nine ladies dance around the Beltane fire Chalice lifted slowly to our sister’s lips Knowledge of the cauldron raising her desire A potion from the berries and the hips
They are singing of a freedom, whilst others wait in pews Casting spells of love whilst the preacher points the bone They are riding through the gateways to another world There’s a freedom in the air that carries forth good news Sharing with your sisters, you will never be alone Sail on to the Summer Isles, the canvas is unfurled By the powers of air and fire we follow ancient ways By the powers of earth and water, so be all our days Let the sounds of laughter still echo from these bays
Laugh with your Lover on this Beltane night Howl loudly with your Mother at the moon Walk with the sacred Crone to reclaim a rite A Goddess waits on Mona listening for your tune.
Park Bench Tales and other writings 