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Memorable Pics -1993 - The Launching of Celtic Legacy

hereby the authors


along with the editor and lecturer







The Launching of Celtic Legacy - A collection of original bardic poems published in 1993. The edition includes galician and spanish versions.




Transcription of one of the poems featured in the book

Irlanda, terra céltica
(galician version)
Author: Eliseo Mauas Pinto

Teña eu a bafaxe que trae lendas
no voar d'aves que chegan dende o mar,
o eco dan ondas que s'esnaquizan nas rochas
coma verba qu'afirma o desexo de navegar.
Cántos han collido ise camiño
fuxindo da fame, do fastío, das loitas?
cántos fillos teus istán fora
sin quer ollar para atrás.

Viaxes d'emigrantes e invasores en conquista,
loitas contínuas no norte da illa.
Manchas de sangue no verde chan,
un canto laranxa alleo â terra mesma.

Queiman tuas harpas, banan teus bardos,
a pouta opresora fire teu chan, embulladora.
Quitan-che o doce canto da língua celta,
mais non ponderán escontra da lírica d'un pobo poeta.

Oh, Eire, de fondos vals e porte morno!
a cobiza dos homes condéna-che, cambea-che,
e quitan de escena ao homilde patriota
cando no norte, soio teus ríos corren ceibes।

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ireland, Celtic Nation.(english version)
Author: Eliseo Mauas Pinto

Let the breeze bring me the legend
in the flight of the birds that arrive from the sea,
the echo of the waves that break on the rock
like an open mouth that confirms desire to sail.

How many have taken that way fleeing from the hunger,
the weariness, and struggling?
How many of your children are outside
with no desire to watch backwards?

Trips of emigrants and invaders in conquest,
incessant fights in the north of the island.
Spots of blood in the green field,
an orange song foreign to the same Earth.

They burn your harps, they prohibit your bards,
The opressive claw hurts your field, usurper.
they clear the sweet song of your celtic language,
but never shall dumb the lyric of your bardic people.

Oh, Eire of deep valleys and lukewarm bearing!
The greed of the men condemns you
and tear the patriotic one away
when only your rivers run free in the north.

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