CANTARES | SONGS |
Rosalía de Castro | trans. James H. Donalson - (from Galician) |
O meu corazón soíño e morada de cantares; nei agarimados viven coma no seu niño as aves; e cando a dor os desperte, ou cando pracer os chame, encherán de sons alegres ou de tristesiña os aires. **** A guitarriña que eu toco sente como unha persona; unhas veces canta e ríe, outras veces xime e chora. **** A cor d'o teu rostro, nena, é coma noite de lúa, e a mata dos teus cabellos, o mesmo que noite escura. **** Cando á veiriña do rio lavas os teus pes de rosa, tembran de amor as auguiñas, sospira o vento antre as ponlas. **** Os cravos que en pes e mans lle puxeron al Señor, lévaos a nai afrixida cravados no corasón. **** O mundo deume un libro; é eu son tan lerdo que canto mái-lo estudio méno-lo entendo. **** O santurrón de abaixo xá está morrendo; ¡que feixiño de leña vai para o inferno! **** Vai logo, e a tua nai dille si me despresa por probe, que o mundo da moitas voltas, que tamen se can as torres. **** Quítate desa ventana e oie un consello, meniña: rosa que está ben gardada os páxaros non a pican. **** Medín cos ollos o ceo, sondéi o fondo do mar; mais no corasón dos homes fondo no puden topar. **** A Dios un abogado lle imita nesto: Dios fai todo de nada ... e el fai un preito. **** Chistosa, churrusqueiriña, que sal espallando vas; ¿di cómo espaillando tanto non che se acabóu o sal? |
My solitary heart is like a nest of songs: in it they live or sleep like birds do in their nests, till pain awakens them, or pleasure calls them out: and then they fill the air with mournful sounds or joy. **** When playing the guitar its feelings come to fore: at times it sings and laughs, at times laments and moans. **** The paleness of your face is like a moonlit night: and like a moonless night the blackness of your hair. **** When, on the river`s bank, you wash your rosy feet, the waters palpitate, the wind sighs up above. **** The nails they drove into the good Lord's hands and feet have been within the heart of Mary ever since. **** The world gave me a book but I am just too thick: the more I study it the less I understand. **** The hypocrite down there is on his death-bed now: a batch of kindling-wood to feed the fires of hell. **** Your mother won't approve because I am so poor? Just say the world spins on and many towers fall. **** Get off the window-seat: take my advice, my child, the flower that's not exposed is safe from pecking birds. **** By sight I sized the sky by sound I plumbed the sea; but sounding in a heart no bottom could be found. **** The lawyers mimic God in just one thing: for He from nothing made a world, and they create their suits. **** You pepper life with wit and laughter far and wide, and still, it seems to me the shaker's always full. |
Trans. Copyright © James H. Donalson 2003