22.   Yet He Who One Day Loved True     (Mais ó que ben quixo un día)



Affectionate Diminutives

Explanation of some words, terms or expressions

Now with great repose I sleep beside the fountains (3.2.1-2). A typical "fountain" of the Galician countryside consisted of a pipe incrusted in rock to serve as a spout for human consumption and a sink underneath to serve as a watering hole for the cattle.



YouTube Videos

Amancio Prada.

Najla Shami from her 2013 album, "Na Lingua Que Eu Falo."

Recital: Amelia Ónega.



Mais ó que ben quixo un día,
si a querer ten afición,
sempre lle queda unha mágoa
dentro do seu corazón.

I

Aló nas tardes serenas,
aló nas tardes caladas,
fanse máis duras as penas
que nas brandas alboradas.

Aló nas tardes sombrisas,
aló nas tardes escuras,
fanse máis cortas as risas,
máis negras as desventuras.

Que non hai sera tranquila
para quen remorsos garda,
e máis presto se aniquila
canto máis á noite agarda.

II

Eu ben sei destos secretos
que se esconden nas entrañas,
que rebolen sempre inquietos
baixo mil formas estrañas.

Eu ben sei destes tormentos
que consomen e devoran,
dos que fan xemer os ventos,
dos que morden cando choran.

I anque ora sorrindo canto,
anque ora canto con brío,
tanto chorei, chorei tanto
como as auguiñas dun río.

Tiven en pasados días,
fondas penas e pesares,
e chorei bágoas tan frías
como as auguiñas dos mares.

Tiven tan fondos amores
e tan fondas amarguras,
que era fonte de dolores
nacida entre penas duras.

III

Ora río, ora contento
vou polas eiras cantando,
vendo de onda ven o vento
cando vou levar o gando.

Ora con grande sosiego
durmo na beira das fontes,
durmo na beira dos regos,
durmo na punta dos montes.

Mais ó que ben quixo un día,
si a querer ten afición,
sempre lle queda unha mágoa
dentro do seu corazón.

Yet he who one day loved true,
If to love he is wonted,
Always has a heartbreak
Stranded in his heart.

I

Lo, on serene evenings,
Lo, on the hushed evenings,
Grief is harder to bear
Than on the gentle dawns.

Lo, on sombre evenings,
Lo, on gloomy evenings,
Laughter is cut short,
Misfortunes turn blacker.

For there is no restful evening
For the remorseful one,
The more he hopes for the night
The faster he founders.

II

I am well acquainted with these
Secrets that lurk within,
That bustle ever restless
Under a thousand strange forms.

I know well these torments
That wear down and devour,
That make the winds whimper,
That bite when they weep.

And although now I sing smiling,
Though now I sing with zest,
I wept, I wept as much
As the flowing waters of a river.

I had in days past
Deep regrets and sorrows,
And I cried tears as cold
As the cold waters of the sea.

I had such profound loves
And such profound woes
That I was fountain-head of pain
Born among hard rocks.

III

Now I laugh, now glad
I go through the fields singing,
Coming back from where
I drive the cattle upwind to.

Now with great repose
I sleep beside the fountains,
I sleep beside the rills,
I slumber on top of the mountains.

Yet he who one day loved true,
If to love he is wonted,
Always has a heartbreak
Stranded in his heart.




Translation from Galician to English of 11 poems by Rosalia de Castro


Archived translations from Galician to English of poems by Rosalia de Castro