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¿Por qué existe? ¿Quen é? ¿Donde a soberba
morada tén? ¿Arteira, en donde habita?
Sono lixeiro ou pasaxeira nube
pra moitos é, que a penas deixa rastro.
Outros os golpes alevosos sinten
que lles asesta con negra traidoría
dende o comenzo ó fin da vida escrava.
Pero n'a ven, anque a mirada tendan
arrededor, para evitaren, cautos
o seu bafo pestífero, n'atopan
no espazo, nin na terra, nin no mare,
anque ela en todo está sempre dañina.
O mal do inferno é fillo, o ben do ceo;
a disgracia ¿de quen? Loba que nunca
farta se ve, que o seu furor redobra
da fonda frida, á vista ensangrentada,
¿De donde vén?, ¿que quer?, ¿por que a consintes,
potente Dios, que os nosos males miras?
¿Non ves, Señor, que o seu poder afoga
a fe i o amor no esprito que en ti fía?
¡Como endurece o corazón que un tempo
era todo brandura! ¡Como mata
da espranza a luz, que un resprandor tranquilo
nos astros derramaba da existencia,
nova forza prestando ó pé cansado
e máis valor á ialma temerosa!
Todo o mucha ó seu paso, a pranta súa
maldita todo para sempre estraga.
Todo a súa lama pegaxosa entrubia.
¡E que oco tan profundo fai en torno
daquel a quen persigue! ¡Como fuxen
as xentes del pra non oír os laios
que o seu penar lle arrinca, ou a espantosa
brasfemia que con labio balbucente
a sí mesmo mordéndose prenuncia!
Que apestado n'existe nesta vida
que tanto horror á humanidade cause
como o que da disgracia vai tocado.
E como non, se o ben contra el se volve!
Se o mesmo sol non loce onde el habita,
se a fonte onde beber envenenada
decote está, se o pan se volve asentes
para seu paladar, i o mar sin fondo
enxoito nun instante se quedara
se el na onda amarga se afogar quixera;
¡e nos brazos da morte que aborrece,
a mesma morte o deixa abandonado!
¡Ah, piedade, Señor! ¡Varre esa sombra
que en noite eterna para sempre envolve
a luz da fé, do amor e da esperanza!
¡Sombra de horror que os astros briladores
escurece dos ceos, que un novo inferno
neste mundo formou, e un mundo novo,
donde todo valor perde os seu bríos
e toda forza sin loitar se estrela,
onde as tinebras da impiedá, estendidas,
borran todo camino que a ti guíe!
¡Dios de bondá, co teu potente sopro,
de nós aparta ese fantasma horribre
que a desesperazón dá por remate;
pois xa abasta cas dores, ca miseria
da carne fraca e coa infalibre morte
pra tormento e castigo dos que, tristes
porque pecaron, viven desterrados
da patria celestial por que suspiran!
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Why does she exist? Who is she? Does she dwell
Where pride dwells? A rogue, where does she live?
She is for many a light sleep
Or a passing cloud that leaves hardly a trace,
Others feel the deceitful blows
Dealt in black treachery
From start to finish of a toilsome life,
But none see her though they glance
Round about warily to avoid
Her pestilent vapour, they don't discover her
In the cosmos or on land or at sea
Though she is everywhere always harmful.
Evil is hell's offspring, goodness heaven's,
Misfortune whose? Fae that is never
Satisfied—who redoubles her fury
At the bloodied sight of the deep wound—
Where does she come from? What does she want?
Why do you indulge her,
Mighty God who gaze upon our woes?
Do you not realize, Lord, that her force strangles
Faith and love in the spirit who trusts in you?
How she hardens the heart which was
Once all gentleness! How she snuffs out
The light of hope which decanted a tranquil luster
Of existence on the heavenly bodies
Lending new vigor to the weary step
And greater courage to the fearful soul!
Everything wilts where she treads, her accursed
Sole ruins everything for evermore,
Her sticky mire muddles everything
And what a deep hole she digs around
Whom she badgers! How people flee from him
To eschew hearing the complaints
His grief brings out or the terrible
Blasphemy which with halting lip—
Biting himself—he utters!
There is no one so shunned in this life
Who causes as much horror to mankind
As he who is beleaguered by calamity.
And how not so if goodness opposes him!
If the very sun shines not where he lodges,
If the drinking fountain is always poisoned,
If the bread tastes like wormwood on his palate
And the sea would drain in a moment
Were he wont to drown
In its bitter wave
And even in the arms of detested death
Death herself disowns him!
Ah, have mercy, Lord! Sweep away that shadow
Which for evermore shrouds in endless night
The light of faith—of love and of hope!
Shade of horror which dims the shining bodies
Of the heavens, which shaped a new hell
In this world and a new world where
All courage loses its pluck
And all strength crumbles without a struggle—
Where the darkness of far-flung callousness
Erases every path that leads to you!
God of kindness, push away from us
With your powerful blast that horrible spectre
Which ultimately drives to despair.
More than suffice already the pains, the misery
Of the weak flesh and of unavoidable death
To punish and torment they who saddened
Because they sinned live in exile
From the heavenly home that they sigh for!
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