An English translation of one of Romania's epic poems. Published in 1800 the Tiganiada looks back on a Romanian hero and his struggle with the Ottoman Turks. At the time of publication Romania was being pulled this way and that by Russians, Austro-Hungarians and the Ottomans, after a series of revolutions Romania finally became a recognised country in 1859, although Transylvania still remained part of Hungary, and would do until 1918, Moldavia and Wallachia were united.
During the years of upheaval Romania looked for a national identity, homegrown heroes such as Mircea the Old, Stephen the Great and Michael the Brave were once again lauded, as was an almost forgotten Viovode, Vlad the Impaler. Tiganiada is set during that long hot summer of 1462 with the Ottoman army set to invade, and the only warrior to oppose them, Vlad Tepes and his army of Gypsies.
or The Camp Of The Gypsies.
by Ion Budai-Deleanu
The Argument
1
Muse! who once to Homer
Sang the Vatrachomyomachia [sic] (Battle Of The Frogs)
Be a bit kind, sing to me, too,
When Vlad Voivode gave theme liberty,
Arms and at length, a farmstead,
Of all the things the gypsy kind did do.
2
[Sing] how the gypsies wished to choose
A Voivode in their country and a helm;
How, forgetting the good life,
They bravely took up arms.
Not only this, but at last dared even to do battle
With the pagan (Ottoman) coltish rabble.
Vlad Viovode
3
How then, by means of a bitter squabble
(Fore they wouldn’t have picked up the bad habit all at once),
They all took flight, each whereto,
Leaving behind country, Voivode, and crown.
But all these things were done
By means of that devilish stupor.
4
For, tho’ he without likeness,
The worst spirit of all, Satan,
Has his dwelling everlastingly in hell
As sustenance for the unextinguished fire,
Yet, furtively, at times, still
Overturning the world, he delects himself.
5
And this particular time, he was goaded
By the cursed Fury (as I say),
Who seeing our gypsy kind
Armed with scythes and bars,
Decided to ruin them by all and any means,
Bringing enmity and strife amongst them.
6
Oh! You, much patient paper, (as paper is always patient)
That on your back, with much good will,
All the wisdom found under the sun
And all the madness carry jointly,
Carry these mine verses, too,
As I give them to you, good and bad.
7
Then let those who know say what they will,
I, along with proud Solomon will say:
Everything is vanity and madness!
For only he of that kind is happy
Who begins to know himself
And the nature of things he perceives.
8
From the northmost bound further out,
High up, in the darkening vault,
There is a place (as it is written)
That the philosophers call chaos,
Where the perpetual battle
Makes elements out of the wild waste.
9
A wicked faerie rules that land,
Who will stand no good thing,
But everything ruins and divides,
Everything shatters, pulverizes that
Which she comes upon, and Fury she is called,
Wicked offspring of father and mother.
A Wicked Fury
10
From thence, looking askance at all,
The Fury sees the villainous
Mob of gypsies armed
With hatchets, hammers, and bars.
Perceiving then what was to happen,
Well-nigh she faints with anger!
The Fury descends to Hell and speaks to Satan, her Father. She tells him that the Gypsies have abandoned their wandering ways and have settled in Wallachia to help Vlad Dracula, to whom they have pledged their allegiance.
Thanking his daughter Satan then ascends from Hell and assumes the guise of a raven. He then pledges his support to the invading Ottomans (pagans).
29
There, from all of the country,
Had gathered the gypsies, big and small,
Abandoning their wandering life
And committing to new circumstances:
No longer to walk from country to country,
Nor to be subject to others’ abasement.
30
For, with this covenant, Vlad Voivode
Had given them land for domains,
So that from this day forward they, too, may be
Like other men and live in order;
And they long counseled among themselves
How these things best should be settled.
31
This time, as well, it was a day of counsel,
The sum of their most learned boyars (irony)
Had gathered all together,
Speaking much words and noisily.
At last, Drăghici made plain the cause
And addressed the gathering in this manner:
32
“Good men! Having lived in this here world,
Much has befallen me, both bad and good,
Much I have seen and done, on purpose and as jokes,
But (I tell you truly) of all those there things,
A thing like this, done either on purpose or for fun,
I have never seen in my whole life.
33
To have a little country! Us, the gypsies . . .
Where we would’a be only us with us!
To have villages, houses, gardens, and fields
And then to have plenty of everything, like others have?
Truly! Beholding things as rare as this,
It’s though I dreamt while wakin’ . . .
34
Well, and what more do we really need
To have us a happy life?
Truly, nothing! Only how much it eats at me
Oh, the thought! Meaning the notion
Of that little moment, the last in my life,
For it would’a woe to die now!
35
I fear only that I’ll never come
To see the gypsies put to order.
Oh! The sweet and dear spring
Of my days, how has it set!
Now would’a be the time to live in that world
As you best please, as your nature invites you!
36
You, youths, take heed
What Old Man Drăghici tells you now:
Make yourself good settlements
And dwell together here;
Be always of one mind and will,
More heartily in time of need.
37
For, if you do not join up hands,
Loving to cleave and come together,
A foreign tongue will soon oppress you,
And you will’a be lost without deliverance.
Nore will you make a folk for yourselves in that world,
But you will be without a country and name.
38
Not only this, but you’ll a be as you was,
As are the cursed Jews, behold! . . .
Who have no country, but live on th’road…
Be the country as poor as it may,
It is sweet when someone can say:
This is my county, I’m from ‘ere! . . .”
I owe a huge debt of thanks to Asymptote and their translation by Carla Baricz.
"For Vlad Voivode arms the gypsies,
The Fury goads Satan upon them,
Who wishes them evil.
In this way, taking bread for their journey,
From Hungry mirthfully leave
The Gypsy folk straight towards full hearted.
The Fury goads Satan upon them,
Who wishes them evil.
In this way, taking bread for their journey,
From Hungry mirthfully leave
The Gypsy folk straight towards full hearted.
1
Muse! who once to Homer
Sang the Vatrachomyomachia [sic] (Battle Of The Frogs)
Be a bit kind, sing to me, too,
When Vlad Voivode gave theme liberty,
Arms and at length, a farmstead,
Of all the things the gypsy kind did do.
2
[Sing] how the gypsies wished to choose
A Voivode in their country and a helm;
How, forgetting the good life,
They bravely took up arms.
Not only this, but at last dared even to do battle
With the pagan (Ottoman) coltish rabble.
Vlad Viovode
3
How then, by means of a bitter squabble
(Fore they wouldn’t have picked up the bad habit all at once),
They all took flight, each whereto,
Leaving behind country, Voivode, and crown.
But all these things were done
By means of that devilish stupor.
4
For, tho’ he without likeness,
The worst spirit of all, Satan,
Has his dwelling everlastingly in hell
As sustenance for the unextinguished fire,
Yet, furtively, at times, still
Overturning the world, he delects himself.
5
And this particular time, he was goaded
By the cursed Fury (as I say),
Who seeing our gypsy kind
Armed with scythes and bars,
Decided to ruin them by all and any means,
Bringing enmity and strife amongst them.
6
Oh! You, much patient paper, (as paper is always patient)
That on your back, with much good will,
All the wisdom found under the sun
And all the madness carry jointly,
Carry these mine verses, too,
As I give them to you, good and bad.
7
Then let those who know say what they will,
I, along with proud Solomon will say:
Everything is vanity and madness!
For only he of that kind is happy
Who begins to know himself
And the nature of things he perceives.
8
From the northmost bound further out,
High up, in the darkening vault,
There is a place (as it is written)
That the philosophers call chaos,
Where the perpetual battle
Makes elements out of the wild waste.
9
A wicked faerie rules that land,
Who will stand no good thing,
But everything ruins and divides,
Everything shatters, pulverizes that
Which she comes upon, and Fury she is called,
Wicked offspring of father and mother.
A Wicked Fury
10
From thence, looking askance at all,
The Fury sees the villainous
Mob of gypsies armed
With hatchets, hammers, and bars.
Perceiving then what was to happen,
Well-nigh she faints with anger!
The Fury descends to Hell and speaks to Satan, her Father. She tells him that the Gypsies have abandoned their wandering ways and have settled in Wallachia to help Vlad Dracula, to whom they have pledged their allegiance.
Thanking his daughter Satan then ascends from Hell and assumes the guise of a raven. He then pledges his support to the invading Ottomans (pagans).
29
There, from all of the country,
Had gathered the gypsies, big and small,
Abandoning their wandering life
And committing to new circumstances:
No longer to walk from country to country,
Nor to be subject to others’ abasement.
30
For, with this covenant, Vlad Voivode
Had given them land for domains,
So that from this day forward they, too, may be
Like other men and live in order;
And they long counseled among themselves
How these things best should be settled.
31
This time, as well, it was a day of counsel,
The sum of their most learned boyars (irony)
Had gathered all together,
Speaking much words and noisily.
At last, Drăghici made plain the cause
And addressed the gathering in this manner:
32
“Good men! Having lived in this here world,
Much has befallen me, both bad and good,
Much I have seen and done, on purpose and as jokes,
But (I tell you truly) of all those there things,
A thing like this, done either on purpose or for fun,
I have never seen in my whole life.
33
To have a little country! Us, the gypsies . . .
Where we would’a be only us with us!
To have villages, houses, gardens, and fields
And then to have plenty of everything, like others have?
Truly! Beholding things as rare as this,
It’s though I dreamt while wakin’ . . .
34
Well, and what more do we really need
To have us a happy life?
Truly, nothing! Only how much it eats at me
Oh, the thought! Meaning the notion
Of that little moment, the last in my life,
For it would’a woe to die now!
35
I fear only that I’ll never come
To see the gypsies put to order.
Oh! The sweet and dear spring
Of my days, how has it set!
Now would’a be the time to live in that world
As you best please, as your nature invites you!
36
You, youths, take heed
What Old Man Drăghici tells you now:
Make yourself good settlements
And dwell together here;
Be always of one mind and will,
More heartily in time of need.
37
For, if you do not join up hands,
Loving to cleave and come together,
A foreign tongue will soon oppress you,
And you will’a be lost without deliverance.
Nore will you make a folk for yourselves in that world,
But you will be without a country and name.
38
Not only this, but you’ll a be as you was,
As are the cursed Jews, behold! . . .
Who have no country, but live on th’road…
Be the country as poor as it may,
It is sweet when someone can say:
This is my county, I’m from ‘ere! . . .”
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