CANCÓ DEL TEULADÍ / SONG OF THE SPARROW

 

 

Original Català

Joyos cassador, passa;
Busca mes brava cassa
I deixam quiet a mí,
Jo soch l’amich de casa,
Jo soch lo teuladí.

Jo no tinch la ploma de la cadernera
Que d’or i de grana tiny la primavera;
No tinch la veu dolça que te ‘l rossinyol;
Ni de l’oroneta joliva i lleugera
Les ales que creuen la mar d’un sol vol.
De parda estamenya, sens flors, sense llistes,
Vestit pobre duch;
Mes penes i glories, alegres o tristes,
Les cante com puch.

Les aligues niuen damunt de la roca
Del gorch qu’entre timbes aizampla la boca;
En branca fullosa lo viu passarell;
La tórtora en l’arbre que ja obrí la soca,
La gralla en els runes d’enfonsat castell.
Jo al home confie la meua niuada,
I pobre i panruch,
Entre la familia, baix de la teulada,
M’ampare com puch.

Les fruits del bosch busca la torcac; la griva,
Janglots entre’ls pampols; l’estornell, la oliva;
A serps verinoses, los vistós flamench;
La llántia del temple, la óvila furtiva,
I anyells l’aborrívol condor famolench.
Jo visc de l’almoyna que al humil mai falla;
I em sent benastruch;
Lo grá qu’en les eres se perd entre palla,
Replegue com puch.

 

Traducció a l’anglès – English Translation

Joyful hunter, go past;
seek for fiercer prey
and leave me alone,
I am the friend of the house,
I am the sparrow.

I do not have the plumage of the goldfinch
which tinges spring with gold and scarlet;
nor the gentle voice of the nightingale;
nor the wings of the pretty, swift swallow
that cross the ocean in a single flight.
In grey serge, with no colour, no stripes,
in poor clothing I am dressed;
my sorrows and glories, be joyful or sad,
I sing them as best as I can.

Eagles nest on the rocks
between cliffs, in the gorge that widens its mouth;
among leafy branches, the lively linnet;
turtledove in the tree that split its trunk,
the crow in the crumbling castle ruin.
To man I entrust my brood,
humble and simple,
Among the family, under the roof,
I shelter as best as I can.

The ringdove seeks fruit in the forest; the thrush
grapes from the vine, the starling, the olive;
to poisonous snakes, the graceful flamingo;
the temple’s lamplight, the furtive owl,
and, lambs, the ravenous condor plunders.
And I live from begging, what to the poor never fails;
feeling fortunate;
the grains lost on the farm-yard between the straw,
I gather as best as I can.

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