Pavel Chinezul, Negru Voda and "imagined communities": medievalism in Romanian rock music


Florin Curta
University of Florida


Phoenix

1973 Cei ce ne-au dat nume (Those Who Gave Us the Name)
1974 Mugur de fluier (Flute Bud)
1975 Cantofabule

Norocul inorogului (The Luck of the Unicorn)

Phoenix, Cantofabule, Electrecord, 1975; music by Nicolae Covaciu; lyrics by Philippe de Thaün, Andrei Ujica and Serban Foarta; for the Old French version, see Philippe de Thaün, Le bestiaire, ed. by Emmanuel Walberg, Geneva, 1970, pp. 15 with ll. 393-398 and 16 with ll. 409-410; for the English translation of Old French, see http://www.people.cornell.edu/pages/adl6/monosceros.html)

 
Monosceros est beste
Un cor at en la teste,
Pur ço issi at num,
De buket ad façon.
Par pulcelë est prise;
Or oëz en quel guise:
[Monosceros is an animal
One horn it has on its head,
For this it has such a name
Of a goat it has the form;
By a virgin it is caught,
Now hear in what manner.]

A maiden got the unicorn
A maiden got the monoceros

With blossoming bosom and sweet,
She receives him as her lord and master.
He comes in a hurry to put his head
On her beautiful breasts
Barely he lays down his head,
That he already goes asleep.
The hunter then kills him,
Kills him in the dark forest.
This is the way my lord the Unicorn was killed
This is the way my lord the Monoceros was killed.

En sun devant se dort
Issi vient a sa mort.
[In front of her it falls asleep,
And thus comes to its death]

 

Pavel Chinezul (Paul Kinizsi)

Phoenix, Mugur de Fluier, Electrecord, 1974, music by Nicolae Covaciu, lyrics by Andrei Ujica and Serban Foarta; for the Romanian version, see http://www.geocities.com/SunsetStrip/Mezzanine/6257/mugur.htm#PAVEL)
Hey, hey…
Up in the mountains,
Where the Cerna springs,
In the middle of winter
Where Prince Paul
Sleeps like a log,
Guarded by a hound,
A loyal hound,
Who can hear the dogs
On the Bread Field,
Howling to the West,
That the Turks are coming,
With a great army.
Paul,
You, prince,
Wake up,
Saddle up your horse,
Saddle it, Paul,
Knez,
Paul,
You, prince,
Let the star rise, Paul, up in the sky,
The great star of yours.
You, knez, you,
The prince of all princes.
Hey, hey…
You can barely see
Through so many baggy pants and fez hats
Moving in the fields.
Where Turks are howling
As if inside the Babel Tower,
There you’ll find Paul too.
Hang them all on top of spears,
And don’t let His Majesty (the Bey) escape.
A kaftan of Turks,
Moving deep into their lines
And killing Turks.
Paul,
You, prince,
Wake up,
Saddle up your horse,
Saddle it, Paul,
Knez,
Paul,
You, prince,
The prince of all princes.
Hey, hey…
You can barely see
Through so many baggy pants and fez hats
Moving in the fields.
Where Turks are howling
As if inside the Babel Tower,
There you’ll find Paul too.
Hang them all on top of spears,
And don’t let His Majesty (the Bey) escape.
A kaftan of Turks,
Moving deep into their lines
And killing Turks.
Paul,
You, prince,
Wake up,
Saddle up your horse,
Saddle it, Paul,
Knez,
Paul,
You, prince,
Let the star rise, Paul, up in the sky,
The great star of yours.
You, knez, you,
The prince of all princes.

After gruesome massacre,
All were gathered
At a great feast
With good wine
And sheep meat
To the great dismay
Of Ali Bey.
Look at him now!
He keeps on dancing,
Dancing all night long.
The way he dances,
He is completely mad,
Dancing with a Turk
Between his teeth.


 

Negru Voda (The Black Prince)

(Phoenix, Cei ce ne-au dat nume, Electrecord, 1973; folk ballad, music by Nicolae Covaciu; for the Romanian version, see http://www.geocities.com/SunsetStrip/Mezzanine/6257/datnume.htm#NEGRU)
The Black Prince and his men,
All brave fellows with wide fronts,
And with broad, long maces,
And with long hair on their backs,
They all up the mountains,
On top of the old mountains,
And as they cross the border
He calls them loudly:

“You, my brave fellows,
Brave sons of dragons,
Just look at those lands down there,
All covered in jasmin
How badly enemies have treated them,
And how they burned them all.
But there live your brothers
All tall as evergreens.
Listen to their call for help,
Their suffering and longing.
Take your maces,
Pull your bows,
Strike the enemy with fire
And chase them out of the country
And chase them out
And deliver your brothers from evil.”

When they hear this,
The warriors quickly took their maces,
And began striking the enemy,
Wiping them out like chaff.
On fields covered in jasmin,
As the sun was setting,
They hugged each other as good brothers
And ruled the country ever since.