Madera de Pendón

I've seen the sky cry looking at Teleno
In the eyes of the girl from Peña Fadiel
Words sung with a soft accent sounded
History in the stone, shiver in the skin

Bellido Dolfos swore loyalty to his queen
Land of swords and poverty, nobility and passion
People keep emigrating, the Duero remains
Zamora beats in the heart of León

Rome doesn't pay traitors, Viriato falls silent
The shadow of Martín Villa has no end
Doña Urraca's chalice poisons the present
León agonizes drinking from the Holy Grail

The sky no longer obeys the Virgin of Castro
The pain of the swamp resurfaces and still no rain
Let the bells call for a new council
Raise the banners: Leonese, roar once again

Sons of the Arribes of the Duero, from the province of Bierzo, from Aliste and Tierra del Pan
Daughters of Alberca and Argüellos, from the mountains to the sky, from Páramo to the city

People from the west of hell, from a paradise that was a Kingdom, it's time to think
Of her, cradle of democracy, forgotten feline mother of Castile and Portugal

In another era Rome took the riches
Centuries later Almanzor poured out his fury
Astur blood resisted Viking attacks
Astorga could have been Napoleon's tomb

In the dramatic offices of the 20th century
They throw their Constitution: Divide and conquer
They play at reconquering and draw regions
Times of acronyms and money, immoral elite

No decree will extinguish the rights of the people
Through the Godos Fields the Sun rises every day
The night is dark but full of dreams
The jungle falls silent when the lion awakens

Even if the drought lasts another five hundred years
And the official books don't ask for forgiveness
Clandestine facenderas will water the land
And from among the oaks, the wood of the banner will sprout

And there will be a gathering in every village and the grandfather's fingers playing the accordion
Rhythm of the tambourine player's skin, 'from Llubarca to Miranda, from Navia river to Nalón river'

Songs of wineries and millers, tsacianiega cowherds and the Bardón from Cepeda
A soul forged in transhumance
The shepherd from Sierra de Francia has his heart in Babia

From coal, from the miner's blood, to the other end of the Duero, from Castilian to Galician
A Sanabrian old woman embroiders and in the grandmother's hands the future banner is born