TRANSLATION:
O, love love
accursed torture
why did you not blossom
on every treetop?
On the top of every tree,
on the leaf of a walnut tree,
so every maiden and unmarried young man
would have plucked it.

– Continued Poem –

Because I too plucked it
and I let it slip away.
I too plucked
and I let it slip away.
O, I would pluck one again
if I found a good one,
if I found a good one, a beautiful one,
my old lover.
And for my old lover
what wouldn’t I do?
I would skim the water
from the sea with a spoon.
From the bottom of the sea
I would gather small pearls
and for my old lover
I would braid a wreath of pearls.

“This hauntingly beautiful Hungarian folk song has enchanted many a musician. Across the world you can hear it sung in wildly different styles, always adapted for the region of the singer. Here is beautiful 3 part harmony version, sung in the traditional Hungarian style by my women’s trio Wild Honey.

The video was shot in the mountains above Ashland town. The cracked dry field where you see us singing was once a lake where clear water flowed… not long ago. They say that love is like water, giving life to all it touches, washing our wounds and quenching our deepest thirst. May this song serve as a lament for the absence of love which we witness in the world at this time. May love flow like water, to the places in our hearts that have become dry and brittle in ignorance, compliance or hate. May we remember the vulnerability of each and every person who walks this earth, and that all of our conflict and struggle can be healed with a bit more love and care.” ~PEIA