From Arboleras - De las altas mares, Ecos Sefardies de la isle de Rodas, 2009 This is a version of La doncella guerrera, The warrior maiden, which is widely spread across Spain and within the Sephardic diaspora. In all versions, a dialogue takes place regarding the young woman's disguise, specifically the men's clothing she will wear to go to war in her elderly father's place. This exchange between father and daughter, presented through a series of parallel verses, serves as the central theme of the ballad: the concealment of her gender and sexual identity, and the denial of her womanhood in order to present herself as a man. The revelation of her as a woman typically leads to the rival King's son falling in love with her. Text: Maldiciendo el rey va la vientre que tanta hija parió parió siete hijicas hembras sen ningún hijo varón. Saltó la más chica de ellas la que en buen día nació -No maldigas, el mi padre, no maldigas, sin razón Si pensás por vuestra guerra, la guerra la venzo yo. - ¿Ande guadras tus cabellos? - De en bajo del mi tarpuz - ¿Y ande guadras los tus senos? - De en bajo del mi jibón Le dió armas y caballeros y a la guerra ya partió en entrando por la guerra la guerra ya la venció El hijo del rey, que estaba en el fronte ya cayó y se desmayó - Yo me muero, la mi madre, yo me muero de este amor: ésta que venció la guerra hembra es y non varón. - Non te mueras , el mi hijo, non te mueras de amor, hacile tú un convite al saray de tu siñor, ahí verás, el mi hijo, si es hembra o si es varón. - Yo me muero, la mi madre, yo me muero de este amor, que vo lo diré, mi madre, que hechas tiene y de varón. - Hacile tú un convite al baño de tu señor, ahí verás, el mi hijo, si es hembra o si es varón. - Quita butón, mete butón, al mancebo derritió quita butón, mete butón, al baño ella no entró. - Yo me muero, la mi madre, yo me muero de este amor, ésta que venció la guerra hembra es y no varón. Ya meten bodas en medio ya los casan a los dos ya se meten de acordo y la paz ya se siñó. Translation: Cursing the king goes to the chamber, who so many daughters bore
she bore seven little daughters, without any male son.
Leapt the youngest of them, she who on a good day was born
– Do not curse, my father, do not curse without reason
If you think of your war, the war I shall win.
– Where do you keep your hair? – Under my head-kerchief
– And where do you keep your breasts? – Under my shift
He gave her arms and horsemen and to the war she already departed
upon entering the war the war she already won
The king’s son, who was at the front, fell and fainted
– I am dying, my mother, I am dying of this love:
she who won the war is female and not male.
– Do not die, my son, do not die of love,
make her a banquet in your lord’s palace,
there you will see, my son, if she is female or if she is male.
– I am dying, my mother, I am dying of this love,
for I will tell you, my mother, that she has things like a man.
– Make her a banquet in your lord’s bath,
there you will see, my son, if she is female or if she is male. –
Remove button, insert button, the youth she melted
remove button, insert button, into the bath she did not enter.
– I am dying, my mother, I am dying of this love,
she who won the war is female and not male.
Now they set weddings between them, now they marry the two
now they come to agreement and the peace is now sealed.
This website was created by Orit Perlman with the collaboration and blessings of Dr. Susana Weich-Shahak in 2025