and the fabric of your dreams stands still.
Hope in your eyes wakes up.
Oxen plough and it rains.
A roar of ships far away
squeezes your soft dream like a grape.
But you wrap yourself in sheets of one thousand years,
and in dreams you hear the rain again.
Roads will bring one day
the people they took. God is the same.
Furrow goes, furrow comes, Xésus María!,
and everything has to pay their tithe.
Dispelling the dew of your daydreams,
Time drifts from Parga to pastoriza.
Autumn gets buried, furrow after furrow.
One step ahead and another back, Galiza!
Tradución de Mario Suárez Oubiña
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