Audio Recording of “The Swallows”

Returning from afar, swallows in flocks
Embrace the tales of the gentle, tranquil steppe.
The waters of eternity were spilt into the yellow steppe’s palms,
And, ever since, these little birds have dared not leave. 

Once, out riding with my father many years ago,
There were swallows flying over the lonely hills.
Returning from the distant time,
They are perhaps still seeking their elixir. 

I didn’t understand my father’s story then.
I saw a swallow pass away, though
It had found the water of eternity.
I grieved it hadn’t drunk.

My father shared the cream of stories,
Eternal and prophetic. And once,
I promised that, before the swallows did,
I’d find and offer him the waters of eternity.

In this brief world, promises are not always fulfilled.
My father’s gone now, his son’s not found the waters of eternity.
The swallows circle overhead,
Looking to source these everlasting waters.

To my own son, who’ll gain his father’s hearth and home,
I’ll tell the tale of the swallows.
But, life is not eternal, I’ll be gone,
I’ll leave the swallows’ tale to my children. 

The story’s over. The waters of eternity are still not found,
But they’ll be found eventually.
And what the waters of eternity reveal, please share
With these my story’s swallows, pursuing their joys over the steppe.

by 

G. Mend-Ooyo

 

translated by 

Simon Wickham-Smith