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Eredeti dalszöveg
Mulher
Ai, meu gaiteirinho!
Ainda me lembro
Quando corrias polo monte embaixo
E vinhas-me tu dizendo:
"Deita carne no pote, Marianinha,
Deita carne no pote, Marianá...
Um molete inteiro, enservelhetado
E umha bota de vinho, chupâ-ei-ná!"
Mulher, fartura de loita...
O que te hei dizere eu, mulhere?
Se tu és com-a a terra nossa
E a terra, é com-a tu és?
E a terra é com-a tu és...
Ai la le lo, ai la la ah...
Deixei-vos entrambas soias
Ainda convosco eu fiquei.
Valeira está a terra, e morna...
Tu sementada, abofé...
Valeira está a terra, e morna...
Tu sementada, abofé...
E o vento dizia:
«Presto há-de voltar
Pra tirare a fome,
Pra ter que papar...»
Oh mulher! Quantas noitinhas
Te deitaste coa tristura?
E o vento frio trazia
As novas dos que marmulam.
As novas dos que marmulam...
Ai la le lo, ai la la ah...
E o vento dizia:
«Presto há-de voltar
Pra tirare a fome,
Pra ter que papar...»
Tu és o miragre da terra
E a terra é um miragre teu,
Mistura de mele e cerna,
De fera e de anjo do céu.
Pariste de pé o filho,
Coma fão no monte as bestas
E, hoje que volto vencido,
Pra que eu vença, tu te deitas.
E ao voltar, o que te hei dizer?
Maldito o dia e a hora
Em que vos deixei aqui
Para procurar vida fóra!
O Inverno da Emigraçom
Roubou-nos a Primavera:
O quem eu era, já nom sou,
E tu já nom és a que eras.
Já podem os leiros dar
Colheitas bem abondosas;
Podem em Madrid falar
Com palavras bem formosas
Que nunca, nunca nos hão pagar
A nossa fome de outrora!
E o vento dizia:
«Presto há-de voltar
Pra tirare a fome,
Pra ter que papar...»
Fordítás
Woman
Oh, my dear bagpipe player!
I still remember
When you would run down from up the mountain
As you came saying:
"Throw some meat in the pan, Mollie-Mae,
Throw some meat in the pan, Mollie-Moll...
A full loaf of bread, carefully wrapped
And a full wine skin, drink from it!"
You woman, are exhausted from our eternal struggle...
What else could I tell you, woman?
When you are like our motherland,
And our motherland is like you?
And our motherland is like you...
Ai la le lo, ai la la ah...
I left you both, wife and daughter, alone
Even though my heart stayed with you.
The earth is lifeless, sterile...
And you, obviously pregnant...
The earth is lifeless, sterile...
And you, obviously pregnant...
And the wind would say:
"He shall come back soon
To stop this hunger
So we can have something to eat..."
Oh woman! How many nights
Did you go to bed burdened with sorrow?
And the cold wind would carry
News from those who whisper.
News from those who whisper...
Ai la le lo, ai la la ah...
And the wind would say:
"He shall come back soon
To stop this hunger
So we can have something to eat..."
You are the earth's very miracle
And the earth is your own miracle,
Oh you, mixture of honey and soil,
Of wild beast and angel from Heaven.
You gave birth to our son while standing,
As the beasts do in the wilderness
And today that you've seen me return all defeated
You lie down on our bed, so I can at last meet victory.
After coming back, what can I say?
I curse the day and the hour
In which I left you here
So I could earn a livelihood far away!
The Winter of Migration
Stole our Springtime:
I am not the same man I was anymore
And you are not the same you once were, either.
The fields may very well give
The most abundant of harvests;
People in Madrid can use
The most beautiful words imaginable
But they shall never, ever compensate
For the hunger that we've had to endure!
And the wind would say:
"He shall come back soon
To stop this hunger
So we can have something to eat..."
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Kűldve: 
Metodius 2017-10-07
Metodius 2017-10-07Utoljára szerkesztette: Metodius , 2023-03-30
Metodius , 2023-03-30✕
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