2.   I Was Born When The Seedlings Sprout     (Nasín cando as prantas nasen)



Typographical Error

In the third video of the section "YouTube Videos" below, María del Carmen Sánchez Martínez recites "mouro" instead of "Mauro" (4.1). A "mouro" is in Galician folklore a member of the prehistoric race of giants who moved and placed boulders on hilltops. They also built underground tunnels, caverns and palaces housing immense riches. Martínez's recital transforms mouro into a colloquialism for "Neanderthal."

Martínez's modification is embraced wholeheartedly. There is no reason why De Castro should have inserted any personal name in her poem; moreover the supposed pick, "Mauro," is offbeat. Rather the typesetter mistook the highlighted "o" in "mouro" for an "a" and his error is understandable: De Castro's caligraphy is hard to decipher (watch the fourth video below).



Affectionate Diminutives



YouTube Videos

Argentinian composer and violinist Andrés Gaos Berea set the poem to music under the title, "Rosa de Abril" (April Rose). The Galician folk group Madialeva composed its own melody (second entry).

Cristina Gallardo-Domâs and the Gaos Orchestra.

Madialeva from the 2004 album Rúa Aberta.

Recital: María del Carmen Sánchez Martínez (Centro Gallego de Palma de Mallorca).

De Castro's caligraphy.

Nasín cando as prantas nasen,
no mes das froles nasín,
nunha alborada mainiña,
nunha alborada de abril.

Por eso me chaman Rosa,
mais a do triste sorrir,
con espiñas para todos,
sin ningunha para ti.

Desque te quixen, ingrato,
todo acabou para min,
que eras ti para min todo,
miña groria e meu vivir.

¿De que, pois, te queixas, mouro?
¿De que, pois, te queixas, di,
cando sabes que morrera
por te contemplar felís?

Duro cravo me encravaches
con ese teu maldesir,
con ese teu pedir tolo
que non sei que quer de min,
pois dinche canto dar puden
avariciosa de ti.

O meu corasón che mando
cunha chave para o abrir,
nin eu teño máis que darche,
nin ti máis que me pedir.

I was born when the seedlings sprout,
In the month of the flowers I was born,
On a gentle, gentle dawn,
With the first light of an April morn.

That is why they call me Rose,
Yet she of the wry smile,
With thorns for everyone,
Without any for you.

From the day I loved you, ingrate,
Everything for me ended,
For you were everything to me:
My life and my bliss.

What then do you grumble about, Neanderthal?
What, say, can you complain of
When you know that I would even die
To see you happy in my eyes?

You nailed me with a hard spike,
With those curses of yours,
With your insane demands
That urge I know not what of me,
For I gave you what I could give,
Greedy for you.

I send you my heart
With a key that unlocks it:
Neither have I more to give to you
Nor you more to ask of me.

Eduardo Pondal
Translation from Galician to English of 11 poems by Eduardo Pondal

Manuel Curros Enríquez
Translation from Galician to English of 4 Classic Emigration Ballads