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Τα τέσσερα, τα πέντε, τα εννιάδερφα
Four brothers five brothers nine,
eighteen cousins, none destined to grow to man’s estate
were by royal command to go and fight
twelve long years in the wars.
When they whet their swords, the sea glistens,
when their staffs clash, the mountains tremble.
Travelling the road to the muster
they happened on a deep dry well,
forty fathoms wide and a hundred deep.
Lots were drawn, thrown back and drawn again.
but the short straw fell to Kostas, the youngest, every time.
– Lower away, brothers, and I shall find us water.
They lowered him half-way down and he was filled with fear.
– Brothers, pull me up, there’s no water to be found.
– We pull and pull some more, but there’s still no sign of you.
– Then have my horse pull, too, harnessed to this rope.
– Your horse pulls and pulls, but there’s still no sign of you.
– Then have my armour pull, too, harnessed to this rope.
– Your armour pulls and pulls, but there’s still no sign of you.
Translated by Michael Eleftheriou
Τα τέσσερα, τα πέντε, τα εννιάδερφα,
τα δεκαοχτώ ξαδέρφια τα ολιγόημερα,
ένα φερμάν’ τους ήρθε απ’ το βασιλιά
να παν να πολεμήσουν χρόνους δώδεκα.
Τροχούνε τα σπαθιά τους, λάμπ’ η θάλασσα,
βροντοχτυπούν κοντάρια, τρέμουν τα βουνά.
Στο δρόμο που πηγαίνουν κι όπου πήγαιναν
βρίσκουν ένα πηγάδι, ξεροπήγαδο,
σαράντα οργιές το πλάτος κι εκατό βαθύ.
Σκουρτίζουν, ξεσκουρτίζουν, ρίχνουν το λαχνό,
κι όλο του Κώστα πέφτει, του μικρότερου.
– Κρεμάστε με βρ’ αδέρφια, για να βρω νερό.
Και ως τη μέση πήγε και φοβήθηκε.
– Τραβάτε με βρ’ αδέρφια, δεν ηύρα νερό.
– Εμείς τραβούμε Κώστα, συ δε φαίνεσαι.
– Βάλτε και τ’ άλογό μου να τραβήξ’ κι αυτό.
– Κι αυτό τραβά, βρε Κώστα, συ δε φαίνεσαι.
– Βάλτε και τ’ άρματά μου, να τραβήξ’ν κι αυτά.
– Κι αυτά τραβούν, βρε Κώστα, συ δε φαίνεσαι.
– Αφήστε με βρ’ αδέρφια κι αντέτ’ στο καλό.
Nine brothers set off armed for war. Arriving parched at a well, they draw lots to see who will climb down to fetch up water. The task falls to the youngest, Kostas, who will die at the hands of the demon lurking in its depths (though his death is described in most variants, here it is assumed). Intensely mythical in tone, the song’s reception reflects a tendency among older generations of ethnographers to ‘historify’ heroic elements in folk poetry in order to project onto it the glories of Byzantium. Identified like so many others with the Akritic cycle, the song’s symbolic elements were considered vestiges of ancient Greek myth, though in truth, the song has no historic dimension. It is a fabulous narrative: hatred for the youngest brother, Kostas, a hero who is often sacrificed (calling to mind the story of Joseph, who was also thrown into a well by his older brothers); the descent into the well (a symbol of dark psychic/sexual ferment); the sacrifice of a youth to an infernal demon, etc. are all standard motifs and symbolisms which frequently feature in songs, fairy-tales and legends. Miranda Terzopoulou (2008)
Studio recording, 2006.
The song is performed according to the interpretation by Eurykleia Sourou, from the Petsali village (Epirus).
Singers
Clarinet
Violin
Tambourine
