Oὐ βούλομαι ᾄδειν — Pedro Johnson
Οὐ βούλομαι ᾄδειν, περιλαβεῖν σε θέλω
αἰώνα θεωρήσω τὰς πύλας πολέως,
ἧ ὑποδέχεταί με ἥδει μετὰ σημαίων
καὶ ἐν ἔαρι τῶν πεπεμμένων πλοίων,
καὶ μηδὲ εἰσελθών, γινώσκων πᾶσαν ὅδον;
οὐ βούλομαι ᾄδειν, περιλαβεῖν σε θέλω
συ, ἡ μαχητής τής καρδίας μου,
καὶ πρὸ ἧς πολλοὶ ἐν τῇ ῥομφαίᾳ ἔπεσον,
ἰδοὺ δὲ νῦν τραυματίζομεν ἐπὶ τῶν ὑψηλῶν
ἀλλ' οὐκέτι ἐκδικητής οὐδὲ κατοικτίρων
οὐ βούλομαι ᾄδειν, ἀγκαλιᾶσαί σε θέλω
διότι ἀπολλύμαι τὴν φωνήμμου καὶ οὕτως
οὖν ἐξῆλθες λαβεῖν ὕδωρ ἀλλ’ἐγω λέγω
Καταλίφ’υδρίαν, στρεφεδέ οἴκον ἅπλως
ὅπως ἂν σε ἐν τοις βραχιοσί μου περιλάβω
οὐ βούλομαι ᾄδειν, περιλαβεῖν σε θέλω
κυκλῶσαι σε ὡς τὰ σφοδρά τείχη Σίων
κἀγὼ κυκλούμενος, ἐισελθεῖν νικηφόρως.
γελῶσ’ἂν εἴποιεν παλλακαί ἀλλοφύλων
Χιλιάδες σου εἰσίν μυριάδες ἥμων;
οὐ βούλομαι ᾄδειν, περιλαβεῖν σε θέλω
ἀλλ’ᾠκοδομήθησαν πάλαι τὰ τείχη σου
στῆμιδε ὑποκάτω αὐτῶν οὕτως ᾄδων
καὶ τῶν κρασπέδων ὑφ’ ἃ φιλησάμεθα πρῶτον
ὡς οἱ τρέμοντες θεῷ μετά βιβλιδίων
οὐ βούλομαι ᾄδειν, περιλαβεῖν σε θέλω
δεῖ διηγεῖσθαι, ἐπειδὴ οὐκ σε ἔχω
ἄλλα οὐκ ἔσται γενεά ἐτέρα, πρῶτος
δὲ τελευτησόντων ἔσομ’ ἔξω τῶν τειχέων
ὁδηγήσει οὐδείς με κατὰ τοῦ θανάτου
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Showcased by the SEIKILO Museum of Ancient Music
I don’t wish to sing, I want to embrace you.
Shall I forever observe the gates of your city,
Which welcomes me sweetly with banners
And in springtime, with little boats being sent out
And without ever entering, know every road?
I don’t wish to sing, I want to embrace you.
You, the warrior of my heart,
And under whom many have fallen by the sword.
Lo! Νow we are wounded upon the high-places
But there is no longer an avenger nor anyone who mourns.
I don’t wish to sing, I want to hold you
Because I have lost my voice and so,
Because of this, you went to get water, but I say:
“Leave the water-jar, just come home
So that I can put my arms around you!"
I don’t wish to sing, I want to embrace you,
To encircle you like the great walls of Zion
And, being myself encircled, to enter triumphantly.
Would the mistresses of the foreigners say, laughing:
"Your thousands are our ten-thousands"?
I don’t wish to sing, I want to embrace you
But your walls were built up long ago
And I stand beneath them singing thus
And (beneath) the tassels under which we did first kiss
As those trembling before God with little books.
I don’t wish to sing, I want to embrace you.
I have to describe you, since I cannot hold you
But there will be no other generation, and I am the first
Of those dying outside the walls.
No one will lead me against death.