A keresés eredménye

When Xalbador Died

There was a friend,
Who's endearing and sensitive
Transfigured by the wings of poetry
 
Of verses that arose
From a deep inner feeling
 
A singer who roamed the town square
Burdened with loneliness
Who had learned from pain to weave words
To express himself in contention
From the incorruptible truth of his being
His being...
 
Where are you, from which meadows?
The shepherd of Urepele,
You who have fled to the mountains,
Towards tomorrow
That lingers within memory
 
By breaking barriers,
You released your song
Finding ardently
For freedom, beyond the ties,
And the limits of your body
 
With your last breath,
In the deepest verse,
You turned it into a violent cry,
Of hidden truths,
That can never be expressed...
Never be expressed
 
Where are you, from which meadows?
The shepherd of Urepele,
You who fled towards the mountains,
Towards tomorrow ,
That lingers within memory.