Adiós ríos, adiós fontes
Adiós ríos, adiós fontes
adiós, regatos pequenos;
adiós, vista dos meus ollos,
non sei cándo nos veremos.
Miña terra, miña terra,
terra donde m’eu criei,
hortiña que quero tanto,
figueiriñas que prantei.
Prados, ríos, arboredas,
pinares que move o vento,
paxariños piadores,
casiña d’o meu contento.
Muiño dos castañares,
noites craras do luar,
campaniñas timbradoiras
da igrexiña do lugar.
Amoriñas das silveiras
que eu lle daba ó meu amor,
camiñiños antre o millo,
¡adiós para sempre adiós!
¡Adiós, gloria! ¡Adiós, contento!
¡Deixo a casa onde nacín,
deixo a aldea que conoso,
por un mundo que non vin!
Deixo amigos por extraños,
deixo a veiga polo mar;
deixo, en fin, canto ben quero…
¡quén puidera non deixar!
[…]
Adiós, adiós, que me vou,
herbiñas do camposanto,
donde meu pai se enterrou,
herbiñas que biquei tanto,
terriña que nos criou.
[…]
Xa se oien lonxe, moi lonxe,
as campanas do pomar;
para min, ¡ai!, coitadiño,
nunca máis han de tocar.
[…]
¡Adiós tamén, queridiña…
Adiós por sempre quizáis!…
Dígoche este adiós chorando
desde a beiriña do mar.
Non me olvides, queridiña,
si morro de soidás…
tantas légoas mar adentro…
¡Miña casiña!, ¡meu lar!
Goodbye rivers, goodbye springs
Goodbye, rivers, goodbye, springs,
Goodbye, trickling streams;
Goodbye, all I see before me:
Who knows when we’ll meet again?
Oh my home, my homeland,
Soil where I was raised,
Little garden that I cherish,
Fig trees I grew from seed.
Meadows, rivers, woodlands,
Pine groves bent by wind,
All the chirping little songbirds,
Home I cherish without end.
Mill nestled between the chestnuts,
Nights lit brightly by the moon,
Tremor of the little bells,
My parish chapel’s tune.
Blackberries from the wild vines
I picked to give my love,
Narrow trails between the corn-rows,
Goodbye, forever goodbye!
Goodbye, glory! Goodbye, gladness!
I leave the house where I was born,
Leave my village so familiar
For a world I’ve never seen.
I’m leaving friends for strangers,
Leaving prairies for the sea,
Leaving all that I love dearly…
Oh, if I didn’t have to leave!…
[…]
Goodbye, goodbye, I’m going,
All you grasses over the graves,
Where my father lies deep buried,
Grass I’ve often leaned to kiss,
Sweet soil where we were raised.
[…]
Far off I hear them, far away,
The bells over in Pomar,
That ring for me, oh, heartache,
They’ll ring for me no more!
[…]
Goodbye too, my beloved…
Goodbye forever it may be!…
I cry as I bid you farewell
From the shoreline of the sea.
Don’t forget me, home beloved,
Though I die of loneliness…
So many leagues across the sea…
My sweet abode! My hearth!
TRADUCIÓN AO INGLÉS DE ERÍN MOURE, tirado de Galician Songs (Small Stations Press-Xunta de Galicia, 2013)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
DESCARGAR CARTEL-POEMA
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .