Uploaded February 2026 | Updated September 2026, 3 weeks ago
Vielle by Anna Vasylchenko, vocals by Farya Faraji. This is a historically informed approximation of a medieval song written down in the 1500's, with indications of it being a "very old song," a claim supported by the archaic morphology of the melody and its modal, medieval nature. I arranged this with the known parametres of late Medieval music: second voice polyphony now largely reflective of proto-tonal tastes, meaning without dissonances, with a largely modal rendering of the melody through instrumental and vocal ornamentation; I refer you to my video essays on this subject for more information.
The phonology I utilised is based on other ensembles' and seems to be a rendering of earlier Dutch phonology, though I cannot speak for the accuracy of it.
Lyrics in Medieval Dutch:
‘Het daghet inden Oosten,
het lichtet overal;
hoe luttel weet mijn liefken,
och waer ick henen sal!
‘Och, warent al mijn vrienden
dat mijn vianden zijn,
ick voerde u uuten lande,
mijn lief, mijn minnekijn.’
- ‘Dats waer soudi mi voeren,
stout ridder wel gemeyt?
Ic ligge in myns liefs armkens,
met grooter waerdicheyt.’
- ‘Ligdy in uws liefs armen?
Bilo, ghi en segt niet waer:
gaet henen ter linde groene,
versleghen so leyt hi daer.’
Tmeysken nam haren mantel
ende si ghinc eenen ganck
al totter linde groene,
daer si den dooden vant.
‘Och ligdy hier verslaghen
versmoort al in u bloet!
dat heeft gedaen u roemen
ende uwen hooghen moet.
‘Och ligdy hier verslaghen,
die mi te troosten plach!
wat hebdy mi gelaten
so menigen droeven dach.’
Tmeysken nam haren mantel
ende si ghinc eenen ganck
al voor haers vaders poorte,
die si ontsloten vant.
‘Och is hier eenich heere,
oft eenich edel man,
die mi mijnen dooden
begraven helpen can?’
Die heeren sweghen stille,
si en maecten gheen geluyt;
dat meysken keerde haer omme,
si ghinc al weenende uit.
Si nam hem in haren armen,
si custe hem voor den mont,
in eender corter wijlen,
tot also menigher stont.
Met sinen blancken swaerde
dat si die aerde op groef,
met haer snee witten armen
ten grave dat si hem droech.
English translation:
**“It dawns in the East,
the light shines everywhere;
how little my dear one knows
where I shall go!
“Oh, if all my friends
were my enemies instead,
I would carry you out of this land,
my love, my little darling.”
— “And where would you take me,
bold and handsome knight?
I lie in my beloved’s arms,
with great delight.”
— “You lie in your beloved’s arms?
By God, you do not speak the truth:
go to the green linden tree —
slain, there he lies.”
The maiden took her mantle
and she went on her way
all to the green linden tree,
where she found the dead man.
“Oh, do you lie here struck down,
stifled all in your blood!
It was your fame
and your proud courage that did this.
“Oh, do you lie here struck down,
you who once comforted me!
What have you left me
but many a sorrowful day?”
The maiden took her mantle
and she went on her way
to her father’s gate,
which she found unlocked.
“Oh, is there any lord here,
or any noble man,
who can help me
bury my dead?”
The lords kept silent;
they made no sound.
The maiden turned away
and went out weeping.
She took him in her arms,
she kissed him on the mouth,
for a short while —
yet as though for many an hour.
With his bright sword
she dug into the earth;
with her snow-white arms
she bore him to the grave.
Vielle by Anna Vasylchenko, vocals by Farya Faraji. This is a historically informed approximation of a medieval song written down in the 1500's, with indications of it being a "very old song," a claim supported by the archaic morphology of the melody and its modal, medieval nature. I arranged this with the known parametres of late Medieval music: second voice polyphony now largely reflective of proto-tonal tastes, meaning without dissonances, with a largely modal rendering of the melody through instrumental and vocal ornamentation; I refer you to my video essays on this subject for more information.
The phonology I utilised is based on other ensembles' and seems to be a rendering of earlier Dutch phonology, though I cannot speak for the accuracy of it.
Lyrics in Medieval Dutch:
‘Het daghet inden Oosten,
het lichtet overal;
hoe luttel weet mijn liefken,
och waer ick henen sal!
‘Och, warent al mijn vrienden
dat mijn vianden zijn,
ick voerde u uuten lande,
mijn lief, mijn minnekijn.’
- ‘Dats waer soudi mi voeren,
stout ridder wel gemeyt?
Ic ligge in myns liefs armkens,
met grooter waerdicheyt.’
- ‘Ligdy in uws liefs armen?
Bilo, ghi en segt niet waer:
gaet henen ter linde groene,
versleghen so leyt hi daer.’
Tmeysken nam haren mantel
ende si ghinc eenen ganck
al totter linde groene,
daer si den dooden vant.
‘Och ligdy hier verslaghen
versmoort al in u bloet!
dat heeft gedaen u roemen
ende uwen hooghen moet.
‘Och ligdy hier verslaghen,
die mi te troosten plach!
wat hebdy mi gelaten
so menigen droeven dach.’
Tmeysken nam haren mantel
ende si ghinc eenen ganck
al voor haers vaders poorte,
die si ontsloten vant.
‘Och is hier eenich heere,
oft eenich edel man,
die mi mijnen dooden
begraven helpen can?’
Die heeren sweghen stille,
si en maecten gheen geluyt;
dat meysken keerde haer omme,
si ghinc al weenende uit.
Si nam hem in haren armen,
si custe hem voor den mont,
in eender corter wijlen,
tot also menigher stont.
Met sinen blancken swaerde
dat si die aerde op groef,
met haer snee witten armen
ten grave dat si hem droech.
English translation:
**“It dawns in the East,
the light shines everywhere;
how little my dear one knows
where I shall go!
“Oh, if all my friends
were my enemies instead,
I would carry you out of this land,
my love, my little darling.”
— “And where would you take me,
bold and handsome knight?
I lie in my beloved’s arms,
with great delight.”
— “You lie in your beloved’s arms?
By God, you do not speak the truth:
go to the green linden tree —
slain, there he lies.”
The maiden took her mantle
and she went on her way
all to the green linden tree,
where she found the dead man.
“Oh, do you lie here struck down,
stifled all in your blood!
It was your fame
and your proud courage that did this.
“Oh, do you lie here struck down,
you who once comforted me!
What have you left me
but many a sorrowful day?”
The maiden took her mantle
and she went on her way
to her father’s gate,
which she found unlocked.
“Oh, is there any lord here,
or any noble man,
who can help me
bury my dead?”
The lords kept silent;
they made no sound.
The maiden turned away
and went out weeping.
She took him in her arms,
she kissed him on the mouth,
for a short while —
yet as though for many an hour.
With his bright sword
she dug into the earth;
with her snow-white arms
she bore him to the grave.
