Two songs
of c'ac'loba, from the Northeast Georgian highlands (late 19th — early
20th c.)
The premarital relation once known in the Northeast Georgian province of Pshavi as c'ac'loba, and to the neighboring
Xevsurs as sc'orproba, is one of the most fascinating, but misunderstood,
practices of traditional highland culture. The Georgian-French ethnologist
Georgies Charachidzé characterized c'ac'loba as "anti-marriage",
a designation which succinctly captures the multi-faceted contrast between
it and the relationship to which it must inevitably give way.
In the years before the Soviet takeover of Georgia, unmarried young people
would on occasion pair off and sleep together (in the strict sense of the
expression, that is, spend the night lying side by side, chatting and cuddling,
but going no further). Some such relationships would take on a more serious
nature, the young couple spending much time together, growing closer and
more affectionate with each other, composing songs and poems for each other.
But for all of its emotional depth, the bond of c'ac'loba could never be rendered
permanent by marriage, according to the traditional code of the Pshavs and
Xevsurs. When the time came to marry the partner chosen by their parents
(and not necessarily with the young person's approval), the couple were expected
to break off their special intimacy, and renounce the warmth and adolescent
intensity of c'ac'loba for the coldly serious business
of marriage and parenthood. The ethnographic accounts of pre-Soviet Pshavi
and Xevsureti record numerous cases of young women and men preferring ostracism,
exile, even suicide, to such a step. Readers interested in knowing more about c'ac'loba and sc'orproba are
invited to consult my paper "Anti-marriage in ancient Georgian society",
in the journal Anthropological Linguistics, vol. 42 #1 (2000), pages 37-60, and the references cited
there. Here are my translations of two poems, which also appear in my "Anti-marriage" paper, that I hope will give a taste of the extraordinary folk literature
through which the bittersweet affections of c'ac'loba once found
expression.
I.
shen, chemo dido imedo,
You, my great
hope,
mzev, mopenilo dilita,
Sun, spreading
forth in the morning,
uk'vdavebisa c'q'aroo,
Source of
immortality,
mosdixar okros milita,
You flow
through a pipe of gold,
shentanamc q'opnit gamadzgho,
May I be sated at your side,
shentanamc c'ola-dzilita.
Lying and
sleeping beside you.
shenisamc namglis q'ana mkna,
May I be a field for your sickle,
ro pxaze shagech'rebodi —
That I be
mown by its blade —
an sheni nandauri mkna,
Or may I
become your sworn sister,
guls dardad chagech'rebodi,
To feel pangs
in my heart for you,
anamc, tasi mkna okrosi,
Or may I
be a golden cup,
ro ghvinit agevsebodi,
That I be
filled with wine for you,
daperili mkna c'itlada,
May I be
tinted in red,
shamsvamdi — shagergebodi,
Drink me — I will refresh you,
ana mkna movis p'erangi,
May I be
a silken shirt,
ro gulze dagadnebodi.
That I might
melt on your heart.
(Georgian text from Vazha-Pshavela
[1914] "pshavlebi (etnograpiuli masala: dedak'aci)", reprinted in his Txzulebani
xut t'omad. t'omi V: p'ublicist'uri da etnograpiuli c'erilebi, 1994: 368-9)
II.
dghei sjobav tu ghamei?
Which is better, day or night?
xalxno, me gk'itxav amasa.
People, I am asking you.
ghame niade k'argia,
The night of course is very good
dghei sinatit sdzalavsa.
But day will outdo night in brightness.
xmeletze manatobeli
It brings light to all the land;
mzei maudis tanaca,
When the sun climbs in the sky
cxvar-dzroxa maepineba,
The cattle and the sheep spread out,
maghla mtas, dabla ch'alasa,
Up in the mountain and down in the meadow,
maashrobs dilis cvar-namsa,
The sun dries up the morning dew,
mc'q'er q'anas et'q'vis salamsa.
The quail in the field greets it.
magram ro ghame ar iq'os,
But yet,
if there would be no night,
isi ghmertm daiparasa!
May God save
us from such a thing!
ra dadges ghamis c'q'vdiadi,
When the
dark of night has come
bevrsa uxaris kalasa.
A woman rejoices
in her heart.
dzmobiltan c'asvla ghgulavis,
She longs
to see her "brother-spouse,"
dznela ro daeshalasa.
It would
be hard to keep her away.
vazhasac molodini akv,
The lad as
well, full of eagerness,
ar ucdis p'uris ch'amasa,
Cannot take
time to eat his meal.
c'ava, gaigebs loginsa,
He goes and
readies the bed for her,
gaibunbulebs chalasa.
Lays the
sheets, fluffs up the straw.
gulshia gulis misnada,
Heart is
working its magic on heart;
tana k'i pikrobs amasa:
At the same
time, he is thinking
"k'i ara mamivides, ra,
"Could it
be, she will not come,
rom rait daishalasa?"
Or that something
has gone awry?"
kal midis c'q'nari bijita,
The woman
approaches, with quiet steps,
ar achuchunebs chalasa,
She draws
not a rustle from the straw.
amoit'olebs botlasa,
In her hand
she carries a bottle
jalaptad manap'aravsa.
Of vodka,
taken from her home.
"ra q'inchad damdzinebia!"
The man pretends
to be asleep,
moq'me daic'q'ebs zarvasa.
Toying with
his sister-spouse.
kal male gamaaghvidzebs,
The woman
quickly rouses him;
arc aleviebs xanasa.
Neither wants
to waste much time.
q'ba ro q'bas gameet'olas,
The jaw of
one meets the other's jaw,
mk'erdi mk'erds shaaxalasa.
Chest is
pushed up against chest.
uc'indel nacnauria,
His feelings
for her have long been known,
nadobs agharas malavsa, —
He no longer
hides them from her.
memr daic'q'eben k'ocnasa,
Then they
begin to kiss each other,
p'iridan nerc'q'vis p'arvasa.
Sharing slaver
from each other's mouth.
dghe tu gham, romeli jobnis?
Day or night, which is better?
xalxno, me gk'itxav amasa.
People, I am asking you.
t'urpa kveq'ana tvalit chins,
Our eyes can see the beauteous land,
sik'etit dghei dzalavsa,
Day thus outdoes night in kindness.
mushais samushaveblad,
It gives the workers the chance to work,
sarchos shin mosat'anada,
To bring the food their households need.
cxvar-dzroxa maepinebis,
The cattle and the sheep spread out,
balaxs sdzovs mtasd da barada,
Grazing on mountain and lowland alike.
manatobeli kveq'nisa
It brings light to all the world,
mzei amua tanaca,
When the sun ascends the sky
gaashrobs dilis cvar-namsa,
It dries up the morning dew,
mc'q'er nanas et'q'vis q'anasa.
The quail in the grass sings a lullaby.
Georgian text from: Gomiashvili,
Aleksandre (ed.), Kartuli xalxuri p'oezia [Georgian
folk poetry]. Tbilisi: Merani, 1975, pp. 144-146).