17 de maio: Waiting for the Wheel to Turn

Reproduzo a seguir a emocionante carta de José Manuel Atanes Limia ao director do diario Faro de Vigo publicada o domingo 21 de xuño de 2009:


Puxémoslle nome ás persoas: Suso, Maruxa... apelido: Vázquez, Nogueira... e alcume: o Bichoguizo, a Rachaoferro... 
Puxémoslle nome ás nosas árbores: amieiro, freixo... e apelidos: Carballa da Rocha, Castiñeiro da Capela... 
Botamos aturuxos, arroutadas... e damos colo, apertas...
Puxémoslle nome ás froitas: pexego, mazá... 
Aos arbustos: silva, xesta... Ás nosas herbas: camariña, herba de namorar... 
Ás comidas: grelos, cacheira... 
Puxémoslle nome aos insectos: vagalume, escornabois... 
Aos peixes: xouba, ollomol ... e aos mariscos: vieira, zamburiña... 
Ás nosas praias: de Rodas, A Rapadoira... 
Ás serras: O Larouco, A Capelada... Aos montes: A Zapateira, O Galiñeiro... 
As rochas: Pena Corneira, A Pedra de Avalar... Aos ríos: Toxa, Xallas... 
Aos pobos: Soutelo, Peroxa... 
Aos males: Mal de Ollo, O Arangaño... 
Aos nosos medos: A Santa Compaña, O Negro Meigallo... 
Aos nosos heroes: O Foucellas, Roi Xordo... 
Aos monstros: Sacauntos, Fendetestas... 
Ás vacas: Marela, Xeitosa... 
Aos disfraces: Peliqueiro, Boteiro... 
Aos sentimentos: morriña, agarimo... 
Aos santos: A Franqueira, O Corpiño... 
Ás nosas festas: A Rapa das Bestas, O Magosto... 
Á musica: os alalás, a chouteira... 
Aos xogos: a billarda, a porca... 
Ás partes do corpo: as costas, os xeonllos... 
Aos paxaros: paporrubio, rula... 
Ao vestido: saia, polaina... e agora veñen que para que serve o galego, pois é obvio, para nos entender.



Living in a place with time
Living in a place where reality is

Standing on a big broad line
Watching it all go by
Ah but you're taking it all away
The music, the tongue and the old refrains
You're coming here to play
But you're pulling the roots from a dying age

Waiting for the wheel to turn

Remember the Buachaille Mor
Reaching for the skies from the barren shores
Watching over the village of burns
And counting the days since the gael kept home
Well, the stranger claims it now
Sitting like a king with his gold from the south
Don't you see the waves of wealth
Washing away the soul from the land?

Here come the Clearances, my friend
Silently our history is coming to life again
We feel the breeze from the storm to come
And up and down this coast
We're waiting for the wheel to turn

Free were the fields of fern
Free was the fishing in the coves of care
Empty are the homes of old
Empty for the sake of summer's cause
Yes, you're taking it all away
The music, the tongue and the old refrains
You're coming here to play
But you're pulling the roots from a dying age

Here come the Clearances, my friend
Silently our history is coming to life again
We feel the breeze from the storm to come
And up and down this coast
We're waiting for the wheel to turn

Here come the Clearances, my friend
And up and down this coast
We're waiting for the wheel to turn

Here come the Clearances, my friend
Silently our history is coming to life again
We feel the breeze from the storm to come
And up and down this coast
We're waiting for the wheel to turn

Waiting for the wheel to turn
Waiting for the wheel to turn

Here come the Clearances, my friend
Silently our history is coming to life again
We feel the breeze from the storm to come
And up and down this coast
We're waiting for the wheel to turn

Here come the Clearances, my friend
And up and down this coast
We're waiting for the wheel to turn

Waiting for the wheel to turn...


Así es... o no...

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