Down the Argeș River,
On a lovely shore,
Negru Vodă rides
With ten companions:
Nine master builders,
Journeymen and masons,
And Manole the tenth,
Best among them.
They journeyed through the valley
To choose a spot
For a monastery
To be remembered forever.
As they were riding,
They came upon
A humble shepherd
Playing his flute.
Seeing him,
The ruler said:
“Proud shepherd,
Playing your flute
Have you wandered
Up the Argeș
With your flock,
Or come down with it?
Tell me,
Have you seen
As you passed
An abandoned wall,
Unfinished and ruined,
In a thick green hazel grove?”
“Yes, my lord,” said the shepherd,
“As I passed that way,
I saw such a wall—
Deserted, crumbling.
Dogs ran to it,
Howled at the silence,
Barked at the death
That clung to the stone.”
Hearing this,
The ruler was glad,
And he rode at once
To the ruined wall
With the nine builders,
And Manole the tenth,
Best among them.
“There,” said the prince,
“Shall stand my monastery,
To be remembered for all time.
So now, master builders,
Craftsmen and masons,
Begin your great work.
Build me a monastery
Higher than all others.
You’ll be richly rewarded,
Made noblemen.
But if you fail,
I’ll wall you in alive,
Bury you deep
In the very foundations!”
The builders rushed to work,
Stretched cords,
Measured the ground,
Dug deep trenches,
And raised the wall
But every night
It crumbled.
On the second day, the same.
The third, the fourth
All in vain.
The ruler grew angry,
Threatened again
To bury them alive.
They worked in terror,
Their hands trembling
All the long summer days,