The Grandma is a crazy passionate about Galician-Portuguese literature and music. In the south, the fados of Mísia and Dulce Pontes or the poems of Fernando Pessoa; in the north, Luar na Lubre, Uxía, Cristina Pato, Amancio Prada or Escuchando Elefantes. They sing about saudade, longing, migration and great writers like Rosalía de Castro and her Cantares Gallegos, whose day we celebrated yesterday.
Para sempre Rosalía
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, 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!
Só cancións de independencia e liberdade
pronunciaron os meus beizos,
aínda que ao meu redor, dende o berce,
sentira o estrépito das cadeas
que estaban destinadas a aprisionarme para sempre...
Only songs of independence and freedom
have my lips uttered,
even though all around me, from the cradle,
I had felt the clanking of the chains
that were meant to imprison me forever...
Rosalía de Castro
