A monster plagues our land curled up in a deep well.
We feed it poor townsfolk every morn and every night,
but when a day goes by without a man for it to dine on
the monster will not let a drop of water feed the land.
So let’s draw lots and see whose turn it is to send
a gift to the wild beast of their own flesh and blood.
And this time ’twas a princess who drew the short straw,
a beautiful maid was she, our king’s beloved only daughter.
[When news the king did reach, this is what he said:
– Take my kingdom, all I have, but leave me my poor child.
A crowd gathered there and then and went to see the king.
– Give us your child, our king, or we will take you, too.
– Then take my child and dress her in a bridal gown,
and give her to the beast for him to make a meal of.
Take her and adorn her with gems that exceed price,
with countless priceless jewels and a sea of tiny pearls.
And a huge crowd set off to take her to that well
from which the poor black-fated child could ne’er hope to return.
They left and left her there astood beside the well
for the monster to climb out and dine on her slim body.
And as she stood there, all alone in the world
skin bathed in sweat, as though in a gentle drizzle,
Saint George heard the news and came running to her aide,
to save her from a death that would be truly evil.
She turned and looked behind, her gaze took in a horseman
armed with a sword and with a silver lance.
Spying him from afar, she sat and cried out weeping.
– Be gone, young stranger, go lest the beast devours you, too!
– I would sleep a little here, right here beside the well,
and when the beast doth show, I’d have you waken me.
As he slept a dove flew by, the holy cross in its claw,
and on the cross was writ, ‘Tis Saint George for sure’.
When the beast did show, the mountains shook and trembled
and in her fear the maiden cried ‘Saint George,
pray wake and slay the beast you told me you don’t fear’.
Standing up he faced the East and crossed himself devoutly
and with a single blow sent its head tumbling to the ground.
– Maid, how do you know my name,
how come you called me so?
– As you slept a dove flew by, the holy cross in its claw,
and on the cross was writ, ‘Tis Saint George for sure’.
Tell me this, dear soldier, what is the name you’re called by?
I would know so my father can reward your noble nature.
– Saint George is my name, and I hail from Cappadocia.
Have your father build a church and on its altar screen,
paint an icon of a horseman armed with sword and silver lance.
He took out a golden ribbon and with it bound her hair
and there was great joy on Earth among all the Lord’s people.
For three days and nights the blood flowed as from a fountain,
and the whole land rejoiced, it overbrimmed with joy.
The song is done, so sing it as I recall another,
sing it so I, too, can sing, so I can tell it over,
and if I start to tell it, its telling will break hearts,
the hearts of youths and maids, and of shipwrights hard at work
on ships to carry handsome brave young lads.
– Dear Saint George, my Lord and handsome horseman,
grant the fishermen fish, the sailors clear skies,
and us fine silks by the ton.
Saint George, who stripped the rose of its thorn
it was you who first brought love into the world.]
Translated by Michael Eleftheriou
