Butibalausí

Tor des Animes, Mallorca Mallorca, the poem “Goblets” of the 11th-century Arabic poet Idris Ibn al-Yamani on the label of the Can Majoral estate’s Butibalausí wine


The goblets were heavy when they were brought to us

but when filled with pure wine

they became so light

that they almost flew up high with it

just as bodies are lifted up high

by the spirit

It would be nice to illustrate this poem with a wonderful medieval Arabic goblet, let us say from the recently published and in fact “royal” catalog of the royal collection of Islamic ceramics of Kuwait. However, I have absolutely wanted to find something local, Mallorcan, something which could have been eventually taken in the hand by the local poet Idris Ibn al-Yamini (?-1077) as he kept on drinking with his fellow poets of the thick, strong, subtly caramel-flavored wine of the island.

Mallorca, museum, medieval (pre-13th-century) Arabic pitcher11th-century Arabic pitcher from the museum of Mallorca

That period, the age of the Arabic caliphates was the golden age of the Balearic islands – al-Yaza‘ir al-Sharqiya, “the Western Islands.” The memories of it are preserved by the stone drainage ditches enmeshing all Mallorca and in use even today, by the gorgeous fountains and painted beams with Arabic inscriptions of the ancient mountain estates, as well as by the names of most settlements – Binissalem, Banyalbufar, Alcúdia – and of several families. And of course by the vineyards. Among them especially by the estate Can Majoral, whose Butibalausí wines still preserve the former Arabic name of the vineyard, and each bottle of them has on its back label the poem Goblets by Idris Ibn al-Yamani.

Mallorca, museum, medieval (pre-13th-century) Arabic pitcher
Can Majoral is also linked with the name of another poet, namely the brother of the estate owner, Biel Majoral, professor of the Catalan department and one of the most eminent performers and researchers of Mallorcan folk music – and that’s saying a lot on this island that possesses a rich and archaic musical tradition. Here below I link one of my favorite songs, the ballad Don Francisco whose several motifs are so similar to the Hungarian folk ballads, as it is performed by Biel Majoral in the characteristic, archaic Catalan dialect of Mallorca.

A subsequent commentary of Wang Wei to the last phrase: The thing is subtly tinged by the fact that in the archaic Catalan of Mallorca of this 18th-century text some contemporary Spanish phrases are embedded too, and namely on two levels: “Don Francisco” (whose name in Catalan should be “Don Francesc”) speaks a perfect Spanish, while the woman only tries to speak Spanish to him with more or less success. This reveals her lover’s belonging to a social layer higher than she: most probably he is a representative of the central political power. This duality adds a lot to the subtlety and depth of the song.

Biel Majoral: Vou veri vou per no dormir
Biel Majoral: Don Francisco (8'43"). From the CD Biel Majoral: Vou veri vou per no dormir (1997)

Bona nit prenda estimada
Fins demà vespre no torn
Jo me’n vaig a la caçada
Sopa i colga’t de jorn.

Ella sopa i se colga,
fa allò que son marit diu.
Quan va esser dins la cambreta
a les portes sent: obriu.

Quien es que llama a la puerta
que no me deixa dormir
Aixeca’t que som Don Francisco
que te vengo a divertir.

Ara aviso a mis criadas
para que te vengan a abrir
Jo no vullo a tus criadas
sino que te vullo a ti.

Aquí baix han mort un home
no sé si és lo teu marit.
Millor, millor, Don Francisco
així més prest n’haurem sortit.

Davalla amb camisa blanca
i sabateta xoquí
mentre que obria la porta
ell li apaga el candelí.

Don Francisco, Don Francisco,
vós no ho solieu fer així.
Ella torna a prendre escala
i ell darrera la seguí.

Com dins lo blanc llit se colguen
Don Francisco fa un sospir.
Don Francisco, Don Francisco,
¿de què sospirau així?

Senyora, estava pensant
son marit si ens deu sentir.
No hagueu ánsia Don Francisco
és nou llegos lluny d’aquí.

Abans de la matinada
Don Francisco fa un sospir.
Don Francisco, Don Francisco,
¿de què sospirau així?

Senyora, estava pensant
quants infants teniu de mi.
Jo en tenc tres de Don Francisco
i dos del meu bon marit.

Senyora, estava pensant
son marit si és aquí dins.
Mal li roeguin els ossos
i la vista els escorpins.

No digueu mal senyoreta,
no digueu mal del marit
que pensant tenir-lo fora
potser el teniu dins el llit.

Com comença a trencar el dia
Don Francisco fa un sospir.
Don Francisco, Don Francisco,
¿de què sospirau així?

Senyora, estava pensant
de fer-vos un bon vestit,
una vestidura blanca
amb collaret carmesí.

L’agafà per la mà blanca
i se l’emmena al jardí.
Mon marit no em matis ara
tres paraules dixam dir:

Fadrines, viudes, casades,
preniu exemple de mi,
tenint lo marit a fora
no vos aixequeu a obrir,

perquè jo m’hi he aixecada
per això tenc de morir
i amb la punta de l’espasa
ma vida acaba aquí.
Good night my dear wife,
till tomorrow evening I don’t return:
I go on hunting.
Take dinner and go early to bed.

She takes dinner and goes early to bed,
does everything as her husband said.
When she’s going to go to the bedroom,
she hears at the gate: open it!

Who is calling me at the gate,
and does not let me sleep?
Wake up, because I’m Don Francisco
who came to entertain you.

I immediately tell my servants
to come to open it for you.
I do not need your servants,
I only need you.

Here downstairs a man has been killed
I don’t know whether he was your husband.
That much better, Don Francisco,
the quicker we got rid of him.

She goes down in a white shirt
and in her little slippers.
While she was opening the gate
he blew her candle out.

Don Francisco, Don Francisco,
you don’t usually do that!
She turned back, up on the stairs
and he followed her.

As they go into the white bed
Don Francisco gives a sigh.
Don Francisco, Don Francisco,
why are you sighing like that?

My lady, it came to my mind:
perhaps your husband is inside here.
Don’t worry, Don Francisco,
he is very far from here.

Before sunrise
Don Francisco gives a sigh.
Don Francisco, Don Francisco,
why are you sighing like that?

My lady, it came to my mind:
how many children do you have of me?
I have three of Don Francisco
and two of my good husband.

My lady, it came to my mind:
perhaps your husband is inside here?
– Let the devil bite his bones
and the scorpion his eyes!

Don’t tell bad, my lady,
don’t tell bad about your husband,
because while you think he’s away
perhaps he’s here in the bed.

As the sun starts to rise,
Don Francisco gives a sigh.
Don Francisco, Don Francisco,
why are you sighing like that?

My lady, it came to my mind:
I will prepare a good vest for you,
a white vest
with a red collar around the neck.

He took her by the hand,
he led her into the garden.
– My husband, don’t kill me right now,
let me tell some words before that:

Girls, widows, married women,
learn from my example:
if the husband is away,
don’t wake up to open the door,

because I woke up to open,
and this is why I have to die now,
and through the edge of the sword
here my life comes to an end.

1 comentario:

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