Village Song 1
Full are my pitchers and far to carry,
Full are my pitchers and far to carry,
Lone is the way and long,
Why, O why was I tempted to tarry
Lured by the boatmen’s song?
Swiftly the shadows of night are falling,
Hear, O hear, is the white crane calling,
Is it the wild owl’s cry?
There are no tender moonbeams to light me,
If in the darkness a serpent should bite me,
Or if an evil spirit should smite me,
Ram Re Ram! I shall die.
My brother will murmur, ‘Why doth she linger?’
My mother will wait and weep,
Saying, ‘O safe may the great gods bring her,
The Jamuna’s waters are deep…’
The Jamuna’s waters rush by so quickly,
The shadows of evening gather so thickly,
Like black birds in the sky…
O! if the storm breaks, what will betide me?
Safe from the lightning where shall I hide me?
Unless Thou succor my footsteps and guide me,
Ram Re Ram! I shall die.
Sarojini Naidu
Village Song 2
HONEY,
child, honey, child, whither are you going?
Would you cast your jewels all to the breezes blowing?
Would you leave the mother who on golden grain has fed you?
Would you grieve the lover who is riding forth to wed you?
Mother mine, to the wild forest I am going,
Where upon the champa boughs the champa buds are blowing;
To the köil-haunted river-isles where lotus lilies glisten,
The voices of the fairy folk are calling me: O listen!
Honey, child, honey, child, the world is full of pleasure,
Of bridal-songs and cradle-songs and sandal-scented leisure.
Your bridal robes are in the loom, silver and saffron glowing,
Your bridal cakes are on the hearth: O whither are you going?
The bridal-songs and cradle-songs have cadences of sorrow,
The laughter of the sun to-day, the wind of death to-morrow.
Far sweeter sound the forest-notes where forest-streams are falling;
O mother mine, I cannot stay, the fairy-folk are calling.
Would you cast your jewels all to the breezes blowing?
Would you leave the mother who on golden grain has fed you?
Would you grieve the lover who is riding forth to wed you?
Mother mine, to the wild forest I am going,
Where upon the champa boughs the champa buds are blowing;
To the köil-haunted river-isles where lotus lilies glisten,
The voices of the fairy folk are calling me: O listen!
Honey, child, honey, child, the world is full of pleasure,
Of bridal-songs and cradle-songs and sandal-scented leisure.
Your bridal robes are in the loom, silver and saffron glowing,
Your bridal cakes are on the hearth: O whither are you going?
The bridal-songs and cradle-songs have cadences of sorrow,
The laughter of the sun to-day, the wind of death to-morrow.
Far sweeter sound the forest-notes where forest-streams are falling;
O mother mine, I cannot stay, the fairy-folk are calling.
Sarojini Naidu
The two songs are shockingly different. Ofcourse the first song can be seen as the fears and helplessness of a common village girl in the beginning of the 20th century. I think the second song is a bit more prophetic since it portrays the thoroughly changed and bold attitude of the 21st century girls in India.
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