Homage to Rosalía De Castro; Pioneer of Galician Poetry
Negra Sombra
Cando penso que te fuches
Negra sombra que m’asombras,
Ô pe d’os meus cabezales
Tornas facéndome mofa.
Cando maxino qu’és ida
N’ò mesmo sol te m’amostras,
Y eres á estrela que brila,
Y eres ò vento que zoa.
Si cantan, ês ti que cantas
Si choran, ês ti que choras
Y ês ò marmurio d’o río
Y ês à noite, y és á aurora.
En todo estás e ti ès todo,
Pra min y en min mesma moras,
Nin m’abandonarás nunca,
Sombra que sempre me asombras
 
Black Shadow
When I think you had left
Black shadow you haunt me,
At the foot of my framed bed,
You cruelly return, mocking me.
When I imagine you have gone,
The same sun you show me,
You are the star that sparkles,
And you are the wind that blows.
If they sing, it is you who sings,
If they cry, it is you who cries
You are the soft whispers of the river,
You are the darkness of night and dawn.
You are in everything and you are everything,
For me and in me you forever dwell,
You will never abandon me,
For you are the shadow that always haunts me
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Din que no falan as plantas
 
Din que non falan as plantas, nin as fontes, nin os paxaros,
Nin a onda cos seus rumores, nin co seu brillo os astros,
Dino, pero non é certo, pois sempre cando eu paso,
De min murmuran e exclaman:
 
¡Aí vai a tola soñando!
 
Coa eterna primavera da vida e dos campos,
E xa ben pronto, ben pronto, terá os cabelos canos,
E ve tremendo, atericida, que cobre a xeada o prado.
 
-Hai canas na miña cabeza, hai nos prados xeada,
Mais eu prosigo soñando, pobre, incurable somnámbula.
 
Coa eterna primavera da vida que se apaga,
E a perenne frescura dos campos e as almas,
Ainda que os uns esgótanse e ainda que as outras se abrasan.
 
Astros e fontes e flores, non murmuredes dos meus soños,
Sen eles, como admirarvos nin como vivir sen eles?
They say plants don’t speak:
 
They say plants don’t speak, nor the flowing springs, nor the chirping birds,
Nor the waves with their thunderous roars, not the sheer sparkle of the stars,
So they say, but it remains uncertain, but when I always pass by,
They whisper and cry:
 
Ah there goes the mad woman, dreaming!
 
As the eternal spring of life breathes through the fields,
Yet soon, very soon, she will grow old with grey hair,
But she sees all, trembling, numb, as the icy frost shrouds the meadow.
 
-There are grey hairs on my head, frost engulfing the meadows,
But onwards I go, dreaming, the poor, hopeless sleepwalker.
 
As the perpetual spring of life gradually fades,
The everlasting bloom of the fields and souls follow,
Although some wither, and others ignite in furious flames.
 
Stars, springs and flowers, they don’t whisper against my dreams,
Without them, how can we admire or live without them?
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Paz deseada
 
Paz, paz deseada
Pra min, ¿onde está?
Qui ais n'hey de tela…
¡N'a tiben Xamais!
 
Sosego, descanso,
¿Ond'hey d'o atopar?
N'os mals que me matan,
N'a dor que me dan.
 
'¡Paz! ¡paz tiés mentira!
¡Pra min non'a hay!
 
 
Desired peace
 
Peace, peace desired
For me, where is it?
What fabric are you made of…
I have never had it!
 
Calmness, rest,
Where can I find it?
Not in the evils that kill me,
Not in the pain they give me.
 
Peace! You lie to me peace!
There is none for me!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Xa nin rencor nin desprezo
 
Xa nin rencor nin desprezo
Xa nin temor de mudanzas,
Tan só un-ha sede... un- ha sede, D'un non sei qué, que me mata.
Rios d'a vida ¿onde estades?
¡Aire! qu'ó aire me falta.
-¿Que ves n'ese fondo escuro?
¿Que ves que tembras e calas?
¡Non vexo! Miro, cal mira, Un cego á luz d'o sol crara.
E vou caer alí en donde
Nunca ó que cai se levanta.
 
No more grudge nor contempt
No more grudge nor contempt
No more fear of moving,
Only one thirst… one question, I don’t know what, what kills me.
Rivers of life, where are you?
Air! What air do I miss?
What do you see in that dark background?
What do you see that makes you tremble and silences you?
I don’t see! I look, what looks like a blind man in the light of the sun.
And I will fall there where
He who falls never gets up.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
A un batido, outro batido
 
A un batido, outro batido,
A un-ha dor, outro delor,
Tras d'un olvido, outro olvido,
Tras d'un amor, outro amor.
 
Y ó fin de fatiga tanta
E de tan diversa sorte,
A vellés que nos espanta,
Ou ó repousar d'á morte.
 
 
One beating, another beating
 
One beating, another beating,
One pain, another pain,
After an oblivion, another oblivion,
After a love, another love.
 
And at the end of so much fatigue,
And of diverse lucky draws,
Old age patiently waits for us,
It keeps us resting from death.