Singer:
“In olden times, in a bloody time,
There ruled in a Caucasian city–
Men called it City of the Damned–
A Governor.
His name was Georgi Abashwili.
He was rich as Croesus
He had a beautiful wife
He had a healthy baby.
No other governor in Grusinia
Had so many horses in his stable
So many beggars on his doorstep
So many soldiers in his service
So many petitioners in his courtyard.
Georgi Abashwili–how shall I describe him to you?
He enjoyed his life….”
[War breaks out. Governor and wife flee, leaving
the baby. Grusha, a peasant girl, passes by.]
Singer:
“As she was standing between courtyard and gate,
She heard or she thought she heard a low voice calling,
The child called to her,
Not whining, but calling quite sensibly,
Or so it seemed to her.
‘Woman,’ it said, “help me.’
And it went on, not whining, but saying quite sensibly:
‘Know, woman, he who hears not a cry for help
But passes by with troubled ears will never hear
The gentle call of a lover nor the blackbird at dawn
Nor the happy sigh of the grape-picker as the Angelus rings.’
“Hearing this she went back for one more look at the child:
Only to sit with him for a moment or two,
Only till someone should come,
His mother, or anyone.
“Only till she would have to leave, for the danger was too great,
The city was full of flame and crying.
“Fearful is the seductive power of goodness!
“And she sat with the child a long time,
Till evening came, till night came, till dawn came.
She sat too long, too long she saw
The soft breathing, the small clenched fists,
Till toward morning the seduction was complete
And she rose, and bent down and, sighing, took the child
And carried it away.
“As if it was stolen goods she picked it up,
As if she was a thief she crept away.”
[They flee.]
Singer:
“And in her flight from the Ironshirts
After twenty-two days of journeying
At the foot of the Janga-Tau Glacier
Grusha Vashnadze decided to adopt the child.”
Chorus:
“The helpless girl adopted the helpless child.”
Grusha:
“Since no one else will take you, son,
I must take you.
Since no one else will take you, son,
You must take me.
O black day in a lean, lean year,
The trip was long, the milk was dear,
My legs are tired, my feet are sore:
But I wouldn’t be without you any more.
I’ll throw your silken shirt away
And wrap you in rags and tatters.
I’ll wash you, son, and christen you in glacier water.
We’ll see it through together.”
[Years pass. The war ends. Ironshirts find Grusha and the child.]
Ironshirt:
“We have orders, in the name of the law, to take this child, found in your custody, back to the city. It is suspected that the child is Michael Abashwili, son and heir of the late Governor Georgi Abashwili, and his wife, Natella Abashwili. Here is the document and the seal.”
Grusha:
“Leave him here. Please! He’s mine.”
Singer:
“The Ironshirts took the child, the beloved child.
The unhappy girl followed them to the city, the dreaded city.
She who had borne him demanded the child.
She who had raised him faced trial.
Who will decide the case?
To whom will the child be assigned?
Who will the judge be? A good judge? A bad?
The city was in flames.
In the judge’s seat sat Azdak.”
[Adzak uses the Test of the Chalk Circle to determine the true mother; the child is given to Grusha..]
Singer:
“And after that evening Azdak vanished and was never seen again.
The people of Grusinia did not forget him but long remembered
The period of his judging as a brief golden age,
Almost an age of justice.
“But you, you who have listened to the Story of the Chalk Circle,
Take note what men of old concluded:
That what there is shall go to those who are good for it,
Children to the motherly, that they prosper,
Carts to good drivers, that they be driven well,
The valley to the waterers, that it yield fruit.”
–Bertolt Brecht, translated by Eric Bentley
Link back to A Poetry-Lover’s Guide to the World-Wide Web, Pre-1950