nom veñas chorando onde min

nom veñas chorando onde min,

aí nom estou, nim durmo.

son o vento que vai a milleiros

son a neve que cae queda.

son os cómodos mantos da chuvia,

son os campos de grao madurando.

son o silenzo da mañá

son a grácil bandada

de paxaros lindos que pasan voando en círculo,

son o reflexo das estrelas na noite.

son as flores que abrollan,

e estou nun cuarto calado.

son os paxaros que cantan,

e estou en canta marabilla existe.

nom veñas chorando onde min,

aí nom estou, eu nom morro.

 

Mary Elizabeth Frye (1905-2004)

 

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow,

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain,

I am the fileds of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,

I am in the graceful rush

Of beautiful birds in circling flight,

I am the starshine of the night.

I am in the flowers that bloom,

I am in a quiet room.

I am in the birds that sing,

I am in each lovely thing.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there. I do not die.

 

tradución mala de @xindiriz

2022