Chapter 7 of Archived translations from Galician to English of poems by Rosalia de Castro

Source: La romería, entre la fé y la leyenda.
Galicia Unica. July 13, 2012

7. Our Lady of the Barge (Nosa Señora da Barca)

(Cantares Gallegos, 1863)

Background

Legend has it that the fishing village of Muxía was the final place a fatigued Saint James reached when he came preaching to Spain. He waded into the cold ocean water up to his knees wondering whether his missionary outreach would bear fruit. As he pondered full of doubt he spied a sailing boat made of stone approaching, carrying a woman cloaked in black. The woman was Mary the mother of Jesus. She congratulated the apostle on his epic journey and urged him to return to Jerusalem by the same route he had taken. James obeyed and departed after ordering the villagers to erect a chapel in Mary's honour.

A stony slab reputed to be the hull of that legendary boat rocked and huffed when, according to tradition, anyone in state of grace stood upon it, declining to do so for someone in state of mortal sin. The slab was struck by lightning a few years ago and no longer operates.¹ Nearby an arched boulder, reputed to be the boat's sail, is said to heal the kidneys of those who crawl under it nine times.

Muxía and five other villages mentioned in this poem, "Nosa Señora da Barca," lie on a stretch of coast known as the "Coast of Death" for its dangerous waters and high incidence of shipwrecks, the more famous of which were H.M.S. Captain (September 7, 1870), H.M.S. Serpent (November 10, 1890), the Panamanian freighter Casón (December 3, 1987) and the oil tanker Prestige (November 19, 2002).

¹ Lightning is also blamed for the fire that gutted the sanctuary on Christmas Day, 2013.

Federico García Lorca (b. 1898, d. 1936)

Federico García Lorca paid homage to Our Lady of the Barge in his poem, "Romaxe de Nosa Señora Da Barca," published in 1935. It is one of his Seis poemas gallegos,

Festive Pilgrimage in Honour of Our Lady of the Barge (Romaxe de Nosa Señora Da Barca)

¡Ay ruada, ruada, ruada
da Virxen pequena
e a súa barca!

A Virxen era pequena
e a súa coroa de prata.
Marelos os catro bois
que no seu carro a levaban.

Pombas de vidro traguían
a choiva pol-a montana.
Mortos e mortas de néboa
pol-as congostras chegaban.

¡Virxen, deixa a túa cariña
nos doces ollos das vacas
e leva sobr'o teu manto
as froles da amortallada!

Pol-a testa de Galicia
xa ven salaiando a i-alba.
A Virxen mira pr'o mar
dend'a porta da súa casa.

¡Ay ruada, ruada, ruada
da Virxen pequena
e a súa barca!

Ah, street outing, street outing, street outing
Of the small Madonna
And her barge!

The Madonna was small
And her crown of silver.
Straw-coloured were the four oxen
That carried her on their cart.

Pigeons of glass were fetching
The rain over the mountain.
Dead men and dead women of fog
Arrived by the country lanes.

Our Lady, leave your lovely face
On the gentle eyes of the cows
And wear on your trailing gown
The flowers of the woman clad for the grave!

Anon across Galicia's forehead
The dawn comes whimpering.
The Madonna looks toward the sea
From the threshold of her house.

Ah, street outing, street outing, street outing
Of the small Madonna
And her barge!

Amancio Prada and Cantigas E Agarimos.

Marful, before the sarcophagus of Daniel Castelao in the Pantheon of Illustrious Galicians.

Translator's Notes

"Nosa Señora da Barca" is one of the poems in the volume "Cantares Gallegos" that employs the affectionate diminutive form peculiar to the Galician language most often. The affectionate diminutive—singular termination iña (feminine) or iño (masculine)—makes translating harder and something of artwork, but to yield to the temptation of treating it as a nuisance and ignoring it is to rob the translation of the full emotion with which the author wrapped her description of the festivities in honour of Our Lady of the Barge.

All the words in "Nosa Señora da Barca" which end in iña or iño are listed below together with a range of possible translations and a short explanation of the choice made where useful. Galician affectionate diminutives provide the translator with an opportunity to add alliteration, internal rhyme or lyrical sharpness to the text. The aim of the translator is to find the best adjective, adverb or noun which conveys size, frailty, sympathy or endearment according to the context.

anxeliños. Dim. and pl. of "anxel" (angel) translated "lovely angels." Other options: cute angels, miniature angels, small angels.
branquiñas. Dim. and pl. of "branca" (white) translated "delightfully white." Other options: captivatingly white, pleasingly white.
Camariñas. A town named for the unique flower that grows in the region, the "camariña" (Corema album).
camiño (de). Adverb: on the way to, bound for. Not a diminutive.
campiñas (tilling fields). Not a diminutive.
caraveliño. Dim. of "caravel" (carnation) translated "colourful carnation" to provide alliteration. Another option: beautiful carnation.
cargadiños. Dim. and pl. of "cargado" (loaded) translated "fully loaded." Other options: filled to the hilt, overflowing.
cariñas. Dim. and pl. of "cara" (face) translated "pretty...faces." Other options: cute faces, lovely faces, winsome faces.
cogolliños. Dim. and pl. of "cogollo" (bud, vegetable heart, sprout) translated "young buds."
coloradiñas. Dim. and pl. of "colorada" (blushing) translated "flustered" because the colour of the cheeks is caused by excitement, exertion or drink (1.8.3-4).
corasonciños. Dim. and pl. of "corasón" (heart) translated "dear hearts."
delgadiñas. Dim. and pl. of "delgada" (slim, trim) translated "charmingly slim." Other options: attractively thin, elegantly trim, fit, of flattering figure.
feitiñas. Dim. and pl. of "feita" (beautiful, well-crafted, well-rounded) translated "fine."
feituquiñas/os. Dim. and pl. of "feituca/o" (accomplished, perfect, well-proportioned) translated "splendid." Other options: full-fledged, gorgeous.
finiñas. Dim. and pl. of "fina" (dainty, elegant, fine, good-looking, refined) translated "fine and dainty."
gaitiñas. Dim. and pl. of "gaita" (bagpipe) translated "dear bagpipes." Other options: beloved bagpipes, Galician bagpipes, native bagpipes.
meniñas. Pl. of meniña (girl, lass). Not an affectionate diminutive.
miña (my). Not a diminutive.
mociña. Dim. of "moza" (girl) translated "young girl."
pechugiñas. Dim. and pl. of "pechuga" (breast, chest) whence "pechugiñas de cera" (brooches of wax) translated "cute brooches of wax."
peíños. Dim. and pl. of "pé" (foot) translated "cute feet." Other options: graceful feet, lovely feet, pretty feet.
pouquiño. Dim. of "pouco" (little) translated "tad." Other options: bit, mite, wee bit.
pranchadiñas. Dim. and pl. of "pranchada" (ironed, pressed) translated "neatly pressed." Other options: pressed smooth, wrinkle-free.
ramiño. Dim. of "ramo" (bouquet) simply translated "bouquet" because the noun is already surrounded by several flattering adjectives (1.10.27-30).
rapaciñas. Dim. and pl. of "rapaza" (girl, lass, teenage girl) translated "lassies."
rapaciños. Dim. and pl. of "rapaz" (boy, lad, teenage boy) translated "laddies."
recollidiña. Dim. of "recollida" (demure, pious) translated "reverent."
rosquilliñas. Dim. and pl. of "rosquilla" (cookie ring, hard doughnut) translated "mouth-watering...cookie rings."
sabrosiñas. Dim. and pl. of "sabrosa" (tasty) translated "yummy" (1.10.30)
xentiña. Dim. of "xente" (people) translated "welcome (people)" (1.3.2). Other options: dear (people), lovable (people). Although it is not the case here "xentiña" is sometimes used to revile as in "low-life, petty criminal, rude, uncouth."
xuntiñas. Dim. of "xuntas" (together) translated "huddled together" because "huddled" implies greater camaraderie among the girls than simply being together (1.10.25-26).

Explanation of some words, terms or expressions

Para tocar o pandeiro (1.7.11). In Galicia a pandeiro is a square or rectangular board which is held between the arms and tapped with both hands (min. 2:55-2:57, 3:26-3:30 and 3:34-3:38 of this video).

Virxe do Carme (1.8.1). The Spanish religious icon known as Our Lady of Mount Carmel, patron saint of sailors.

And of the gunpowder shells exploding (2.1.10). The word "bombas" is translated "gunpowder shells" rather than "fireworks" because fireworks typically are associated with some sort of dazzling visual display whereas these "bombas" are used exclusively to make noise.

Aqueles dulce resolio (2.1.13). Resolio (literally "pant") was a strong liquor made from aniseed with an alcoholic content above 40% closely related to pastis, today it is a collector's item.

Ó son da alegre pandeira (2.1.18). A pandeira is a tambourine twice the diameter of a normal one.

Con rosquilliñas de almendra (2.1.14). Almond-cookie rings.

Almond-cookie rings

Source: Rosquillas de almendra. Robot de cocina: Thermomix

Folklore

The traditional folk song to Our Lady of the Barge in Muxía is performed below by the female half of the group O Fiadeiro (first entry). In the second entry Coral De Ruada sings a traditional song whose second cycle copies the second stanza of Lorca's "Romaxe de Nosa Señora Da Barca." In the third entry Luar Na Lubre incorporates the refrain of De Castro's "Nosa Señora da Barca." Portuguese troubadour Augusto Madrugada sings the medieval romance, "Nossa Senhora da Barca," on the fourth entry. In the fifth entry Ana Kiro (b. 1942, d. 2010) sings "Romería en Muxía" (Festive Pilgrimage in Muxía).

O Fiadeiro (to min 2:00).

Coral De Ruada (Note: singing starts on min. 2:40).

Luar Na Lubre from the 2007 album Camiños da Fin da Terra.

Augusto Madrugada from the 2008 CD Na memória que se alonga.

Ana Kiro from the 2013 album Grandes Éxitos, Vol. 1.

Partial Recital

María del Carmen Sánchez Martínez (Centro Gallego de Palma de Mallorca).

Nosa Señora da Barca
ten o tellado de pedra;
ben o pudera ter de ouro,
miña Virxe, si quixera.

¡Canta xente..., canta xente
por campiñas e por veigas!
¡Canta polo mar abaixo
ven camiño da ribeira!

¡Que lanchas tan ben portadas
con aparellos de festa!
¡Que botes tan feituquiños
con tan feituquiñas velas!

Todos cargadiños veñen
de xentiña forasteira,
e de rapazas bonitas
cura de tódalas penas.

¡Cantos dengues encarnados!
¡Cantas sintas amarelas!
¡Cantas cofias pranchadiñas
dende lonxe relumbrean,
cal si fosen neve pura,
cal froles da primaveira!

¡Canta maxesa nos homes!
¡Canta brancura nas nenas!
I eles semellan gallardos pinos
que os montes ourean,
i elas cogolliños novos
co orballo da mañán fresca.

As de Muros, tan finiñas,
que un coidara que se creban,
c'aquelas caras de virxe,
c'aqueles ollos de almendra,
c'aqueles cabelos longos
xuntados en longas trenzas,
c'aqueles cores rousados
cal si a aurora llos puñera,
pois así son de soaves
como a aurora que comenza.
Descendentes das airosas fillas
da pagana Grecia,
elas de negro se visten,
delgadiñas e lixeiras,
refaixo e mantelo negro,
zapato e media de seda,
negra chaqueta de raso,
mantilla da mesma peza,
con terciopelo adornado
canto enriba de si levan;
fillas de reinas parecen,
griegas estatuas semellan
si a un raio de sol poniente
repousadas se contempran;
ricos panos de Manila,
brancos e cor de sireixa,
crúzanse sobre o seu seio
con pudorosa modestia,
e por antre eles relosen,
como brillantes estrelas,
aderesos e collares
de diamantes e de pelras,
pendentes de filigrana
e pechugiñas de cera.

As de Camariñas visten
cal rapaciñas gaiteiras,
saias de vivos colores
polo pescozo da perna,
lucindo o negro zapato
enriba de branca media;
chambras feitas de mil raias
azuladas e vermellas,
con guarniciós que lles caen
sobre a rumbosa cadeira.
Para tocar o pandeiro
non hai coma tales nenas,
que son as camariñanas
feitas de sal e canela.

As de Cé, ¡Virxe do Carme!,
¡que cariñas tan ben feitas!
Cando están coloradiñas
no ruxe-ruxe da festa,
cada mirar dos seus ollos
fire como cen saetas.
Nin hai mans tan ben cortadas,
tan branquiñas e pequenas
como as que amostran finxindo
que non queren que llas vexan.

Son as de Laxe unhas mozas...
¡Vaia unhas mozas aquelas!
Solo con velas de lonxe
quítaselles a monteira,
porque son vivas de xenio
anque son rapazas netas.
Bailadoras...n'hai ningunhas
que con elas se entrometan,
pois por bailar, bailarían
no cribo dunha peneira.
Mais, en tocando a que recen,
en rezar son as pirmeiras...
Dan ó mundo o que é do mundo,
dan á igrexa o que é da igrexa.

As de Noia ben se axuntan
cas graciosas rianxeiras,
polos redondos peíños,
polas cabeleiras crechas,
polos morenos lunares
e polas agudas lenguas,
que abofé que en todo pican
como si fosen pementa.
Veñen dempois, recatadas,
anque un pouquiño soberbias
por aquelo que elas saben
de antigüedade e nobresa
(pois por acó todos somos
tal coma Dios nos fixera),
as meniñas ben compostas
dunha vila quisquilleira,
que, por onde van, parece
que van dicindo: «¡Canela!
¿Prantamos ou non prantamos
a cantas hai nesta terra?»
Mais si prantan ou non prantan
non son en quen o dixera,
que fora pouca cordura,
que fora farta llanesa.
Baste desir que xuntiñas
todas na porta da igrexa
máis bonitas parecían
que un ramiño de asucenas,
máis frescas que unha leituga,
máis sabrosiñas que fresas.

Xa que fosen de Rianxo,
que fosen de Redondela,
de Camariñas ou Laxe,
de Laxe ou de Pontareas,
todas eran tan bonitas,
todas tan bonitas eran,
que o de máis duras entrañas
dera as entrañas por elas...
Por eso se derretían,
cal si foran de manteiga,
diante delas os rapaces,
os rapaciños da festa,
os mariñeiros do mare
que donde á Virxe viñeran,
porque a Virxen os salvara
de naufragar na tormenta.
Mais si salvaron no mare,
non se salvarán na terra:
mariñeiros, mariñeiros,
que aquí tamén hai tormentas
que afogan corasonciños
sin que lle vallan ofertas,
que oie a Virxe ós que se afogan
do mar antre as ondas feras,
mais non oie ós namorados
que de afogarse se alegran.

Ramo de froles parece
Muxía a das altas penas
con tanta rosa espallada
naquela branca ribeira,
con tanto caraveliño
que relose antre as areas,
con tanta xente que corre,
que corre e se sarandea
ó son das gaitas que tocan
e das bombas que reventan,
uns que venden limoada,
outros augua que refresca,
aqueles dulce resolio
con rosquilliñas de almendra;
os de máis alá sandías
con sabrosas sirigüelas,
mentras tanto que algún cego
ó son da alegre pandeira,
toca un carto de guitarra
para que bailen as nenas.

¡Bendita a Virxe da Barca,
bendita por sempre sea!
¡Miña Virxe milagrosa,
en quen tantos se recrean!
Todos van por visitala,
todos alí van por vela
na súa barca dourada,
na súa barca pequena,
donde están dous anxeliños,
dous anxeliños que reman.
Alí chegou milagrosa
nunha embarcazón de pedra.
Alí, porque Dios o quixo,
sempre adoradores teña.

A pedra, bala que bala,
sírvelle de centinela,
e mentras dormen os homes,
ela adorazón lle presta
con aquel son campanudo
que escoitar lonxe se deixa
e a quen o mar con bramidos
humildosos lle contesta.

Cando as campanas repican
e a música retumbea,
cal nun ceo, polas naves
da recollidiña igrexa;
cando os foguetes estalan
nos aires, e voces frescas
polo espazo cas gaitiñas
e cos tambores se mescran,
estonces a pedra bala,
tan alegre e tan contenta
que anque un cento de persoas
brinca e salta enriba dela,
coma si fóse mociña,
máis que unha pruma lixeira,
alegre como unhas pascuas
salta e rebrinca con elas.
Choven estonces presentes,
choven estonces ofertas,
que lle traen os romeiros
en feitiñas carabelas,
diante da Virxe bendita,
ós pés da sagrada Reina,
e por eso alí lle cantan
cando se despiden dela:

Nosa Señora da Barca
ten o tellado de pedra;
ben o pudera ter de ouro,
miña Virxe, si quixera.

Our Lady of the Barge
Has the roof of stone;
Well could she have it of gold,
My Lady, if she wanted to.

How many people...how many people
Across tilling fields and across lowlands!
How many come over the sea
Bound for the shore!

Such well-skippered boats
With gear for the celebration!
What splendid boats
With such splendid sails!

All come fully loaded
With welcome out-of-towners
And with pretty girls
The cure of all sorrows.

How many carmine shawls!
How many yellow ribbons!
How many neatly pressed bonnets
Gleam in the distance,
Like pure snow,
Like flowers of the springtime!

Such elegance in the men!
Such fairness on the lassies!
And the men resemble stately pines
Aired by the hills,
And the lassies young buds
Covered with drizzle of the cool morning.

The girls of Muros, so fine and so dainty
That one might suppose they shatter,
With those innocent faces,
With those almond eyes,
With those long tresses
Done up in long braids,
With those rosy colours
As if dawn's light had stamped them,
For indeed they are gentle
As the break of day.
Descended from the gallant daughters
Of pagan Greece,
They dress in black,
Charmingly slim and nimble,
Black petticoat and apron,
Shoe and silk stocking,
Black satin vest,
Mantilla veil of the same fabric,
Everything they wear
Decked in velvet;
Resembling queens' daughters,
Resembling Greek statues
If beheld reclining
In a beam of the setting sun;
Rich fabrics from Manila,
White and cherry-coloured,
Cross their heart
With seemly modesty,
And among these glitter
Like bright stars
Accessories and necklaces
Of diamonds and pearls,
Filigree pendants
And cute brooches of wax.

The girls of Camariñas dress
Like piping lassies,
Skirts of bright colours
Above the ankle,
Showing off the black shoe
Over the white stocking;
Loose-fitting blouses made of a thousand
Bluish and red stripes,
With tassels that tumble
Onto the bounding hip.
No one beats these lassies
At playing the drumming board,
For the girls of Camariñas
Are made of salt and cinnamon.

The girls of Cée—Virxe do Carme!—
Such pretty, well-rounded faces!
When they are flustered
In the hubbub of the celebration,
Every glance from their eyes
Wounds like a hundred quarrels.
Nor are there hands as well fashioned,
As delightfully white and small,
As those they show
Feigning not wanting to.

The girls of Laxe are some lasses...
Quite some lasses they are!
Tip of the mountaineer hat to them
Even from a distance
Because they are hot-tempered
Yet altogether teenaged girls.
As for dancing...no others
Dare mess with them,
Dance they could dance
On a sieve's mesh,
But when a summons to prayer is rung,
They are the first ones to pray...
They give to the world what belongs to the world,
They give to the church what belongs to the church.

The girls of Noia mingle well with
The graceful girls of Rianxo,
For their shapely cute feet,
For their curly hair,
For their brown beauty spots
And for their sharp tongues,
For truly they add spice to everything
As if they were pepper.
They come afterwards reserved
If a tad haughty
On account of their knowing
About ancestry and nobility—
Whereas here we carry ourselves
Just as God made us—
The proper lasses
Of a persnickety village
Who it seems they go saying,
Wherever they go, "Cinnamon!
Do we or do we not put down
Every girl who dwells on this land?"
But if they do or do not put down
I am not one to say,
For it'd show poor judgment,
For it'd be too crude.
Suffice it to say that huddled
Together by the church door
They looked prettier
Than a bouquet of Madonna lilies,
Fresher than a leaf of lettuce,
Yummier than strawberries.

Whether they were from Rianxo,
Whether they were from Redondela,
From Camariñas or Laxe,
From Laxe or Ponteareas,
All were so pretty,
All so pretty were,
That the most hard-hearted man
Would give his heart out for them...
That is why the lads
Melted before them
Like butter,
The laddies of the festivity,
The sailors of the sea
Who came to visit Our Lady
Because Our Lady saved them
From going down in the storm.
But if they were delivered at sea
They will not be delivered upon dry land:
Sailors, sailors,
There are storms here too
That drown dear hearts
With no pledges accepted,
For Our Lady hears those who are drowning
Among the wild waves of the ocean,
But she does not listen to lovers
Who rejoice at the prospect of drowning.

Muxía of the high crags
Resembles a bouquet
With so many roses scattered
On that white bank yonder,
With many a colourful carnation
Dazzling in the sand,
With so many people who run,
Who run and rock
To the sound of bagpipes playing
And gunpowder shells exploding.
There are some who sell lemonade,
Others refreshing water,
Those over there sweet double-distilled anise
With mouth-watering almond-cookie rings;
Those farther away red melon
With luscious plums.
Meanwhile some blind man
Plays a guitar piece
To the beat of the gay tambourine
So the lassies will dance.

Blessed Lady of the Barge,
Blessed forever be!
My miracle Lady
Whom so many feast their eyes upon!
Everyone comes to visit her,
Everyone goes there to see her
On her gilded boat,
On her small boat,
Where abide two lovely angels,
Two lovely angels that row.
There she arrived miraculous
On a vessel of stone.
There, because God willed it,
May she always have worshipers.

The huge slab, wobbling and wobbling,
Doubles as her sentinel,
And while the men slumber,
It renders her worship
With that tolling sound
Audible in the distance
And answered by the sea
With obliging bellows.

When the bells peal
And the music reverberates,
As in a firmament, through the naves
Of the reverent church,
When the gunpowder shells explode
Aloft, and fresh voices
Mingle across the expanse
With the dear bagpipes and the drums,
The huge slab wobbles
So jolly and so glad
That even though a hundred people
Jounce and bounce on top of it,
As if it were a young girl,
Lighter than a feather,
Happy like an Easter Sunday,
It jounces and rebounds with them.
Then there rain down presents,
Then there rain down offerings,
Brought by the devotees
In fine model caravels
To the blessed Lady,
To the feet of the sacred Queen,
And that is why they sing to her
As they bid her farewell:

Our Lady of the Barge
Has the roof of stone;
Well could she have it of gold,
My Lady, if she wanted to.