Corrandes d'exili
Lluís Llach
Running into exile
One night of full moon
we crossed the ridge,
slowly, without saying anything...
If the moon was full
so was our sorrow.
My beloved accompanies me
with dark skin and heavy air
(like a Mother of God
found in the mountain).
For the war to forgive us,
that stains us, that warms us.
Before crossing the line,
I kneel and kiss the land
and caress it with my shoulder.
In Catalonia I left
the day of my departure
half a life half asleep;
the other half came with me
to not leave me lifeless.
Today in the lands of France
and tomorrow maybe further,
I will not die of longing
but live of longing.
In my land of Vallès
three hills form a ridge,
four pines a dense forest,
five quarters too much land.
"There is nothing like Vallès."
May the pines surround the cove,
the hermitage on top of the hill;
and in the plain a clothesline
that flutters like a wing.
A shattered hope,
an infinite resentment,
and a homeland so small
that I dream it complete.
