Versión inglesa de dos poemes de mio escritos nun aniciu en llingua asturiana

Here we’ll remain

Here we’ll remain
waiting on the path
Expecting the arrival of nothing.
We’d better not meet anyone,
Staring calmly into the smoke,
The riversides of sleeping waters
The heavy gate
Faded through time and abandon
Here we’ll remain
Seizing time in our hands
Clasping it in an ephemeral case
So that the evening doesn’t blow it away
And the wine warms the sanctuary of dreams.
Until the moment in which thoughts,
Lying on the stone of oblivion,
Can no longer utter
The hidden syllables of our names:
At sunset in the frost,
Along the dark labyrinth of unease

That strange proud nation

That strange proud nation
Occupied by assassin bodies
Of sharp solitude and paths
Rose-like open along the grass
Blind nation, in a goddess’ rites
Where blind pilgrims come,
Where sad destinies are born
And scores of years of generous defeat
Of love it was called nation. Hard
Unfaithful to hearts’ pain,
Rewriting the pages of History.
The one uprooting fragrance, heeded laughs
And passions from the purest word,
Then drink the nectar of recollections


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