Nasín cand' as prantas nasen
Nasín cand' as prantas nasen,
no mes das froles nasín,
nunha alborada mainiña,
nunha alborada d'abril.
Por eso me chaman Rosa,
mais á do triste sorrir,
con espiñas para todos,
sin ningunha para ti.
Dés que te quixen, ingrato,
todo acabou para min,
que eras ti para mín todo,
miña groria e meu vivir.
¿De qué, pois, te queixas, Mauro?
¿De qué, pois, te queixas, di,
cando sabes que morrera
por te contemplar felís?
Duro cravo me encravaches
con ese teu maldesir,
con ese teu pedir todo
que non sei qué quer de min,
pois dinche canto dar puden
avariciosa de ti,
o meu coraçón che mando
c'unha chave para ó abrir;
nin eu teño máis que darche,
nin ti máis que me pedir.
Nacqui quando nascono le piante
nel mese in cui nascono i
giardini,
in un’alba tanto gentile
in un’alba d’aprile.
Per questo mi chiamo Rosa,
ma devo sorridere triste,
con spine per ciascuno
e nessuna per te.
Di che ti lamenti, ingrato,
tutto iniziò per me,
che eri tu per me tutto,
mia gloria e mia vita.
Di che allora lamentarsi, Mauro?
di che ti lamenti, dì,
quando sai che morirei
per contemplarti felice?
Ancora colpi con il pugnale
con parole mi attraversi,
non so cosa tu volessi da me
con quel che mi hai fatto fare,
quel che potevo ti ho dato,
affamata di te,
ti mando ora il mio cuore
con l’unica chiave che lo apre;
non ho più nulla da darti,
né tu nulla da chiedere.
I was born
when plants were born
in a month when gardens grew,
in a dawn so very gentle
in a dawning April's dew.
That’s the reason why I’m Rosa
with a smile gone red with rue,
bristling thorns for everybody,
never, though, a thorn for you.
When I fell in love (a thankless
chore I did for you) I threw
half my life away, believing
that the other half was you.
Why then this complaining Mauro?
Why the rage? You know it’s true-
if my dying made you happy,
I would happily die for you.
Still you stab me with that dagger
with your words you run me through,
not a clue of what you wanted
what with all you made me do.
All I had to give I gave you
in my hungering for you.
Now my shuttered heart I send you
with the only master key.
There's no more for me to give you
nor for you to ask of me.
in a month when gardens grew,
in a dawn so very gentle
in a dawning April's dew.
That’s the reason why I’m Rosa
with a smile gone red with rue,
bristling thorns for everybody,
never, though, a thorn for you.
When I fell in love (a thankless
chore I did for you) I threw
half my life away, believing
that the other half was you.
Why then this complaining Mauro?
Why the rage? You know it’s true-
if my dying made you happy,
I would happily die for you.
Still you stab me with that dagger
with your words you run me through,
not a clue of what you wanted
what with all you made me do.
All I had to give I gave you
in my hungering for you.
Now my shuttered heart I send you
with the only master key.
There's no more for me to give you
nor for you to ask of me.
translated into English by A.Z. Foreman
