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Aínda recordo, aínda, cando eu era estudante,
garrido rapacete, que ben rexerse sabe;
cando ía pra Nemiña a estudiar a arte
do erudito Nebrija e do bo Villafañe;
e ía a cabalo, ledo, cal soen os rapaces.
Pasado Vilaseco, lugar batido do aire
no alto da costa de Uces de montesía canle;
pasado Vilaseco, indo pla gandra adiante,
xa vía desde lonxe o dolmen de Dombate.
Deixando Fonte-Fría, cara ao lado de Laxe,
e levando o camiño de San Simón de Nande;
polo chan de Borneiro, de cativos pinales,
cuase pasaba a rentes do dolmen de Dombate.
Quedaba o misterioso, fillo doutras idades,
coa súa antiga mesa, coas súas antigas antes,
no seu monte de terra, no alto e ben roldante,
poboado en redondo de montesío estrame,
de pequenas queiroas e de toxos non grandes,
como calada esfinxe, que sublime non fale;
como náufrago leño, de soberbio cruzamen,
lanzado sobre a praia por potente oleaxe,
que de pasada rota mostre rudas señales,
e mostre aberto o flanco por glorioso combate,
e con linguaxe muda das súas glorias fale.
¡Canto, ai, mudar pode longa e vetusta idade!
Entonces eu deixando ambas rendas flotantes,
penoso ía cuidando, pla Viqueira salvaxe,
nos nosos xa pasados, nos celtas memorables,
nas súas antigas glorias, nos seus duros combates,
nos nosos vellos dolmens e castros verdexantes.
E despois a Nemiña, ou que fose ou tornase,
ao velo desde lonxe indo pla gandra adiante,
sempre ledo exclamaba: ¡O dolmen de Dombate!
Agora que pasaron meus anos xogorales,
agora que só vivo de tristes suidades,
que cumpro con traballo meu terrenal viaxe
e que á miña cabeza branquea a grave idade,
aínda recordo aínda, o dolmen de Dombate.
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I remember still...still...when I was a student,
A robust young lad able to take care of himself,
When I travelled to Nemiña to study the art
Of the erudite Nebrija and of the good Villafañe
And I rode horseback happy as boys habitually are.
Having passed by Vilaseco, a windswept place
High up on the coast of Ucés with its mountain ravine,
Having passed by Vilaseco, over the moor advancing,
I'd spy afar for the first time the dolmen of Dombate.
Leaving Fonte-Fría behind in the direction of Laxe
And taking the way to San Simón de Nande through
The land of Borneiro with its beggarly stands of pine
I'd almost graze it as I passed the dolmen of Dombate.
Behind stayed the mysterious child of other ages
With its ancient table, with its ancient standing stones,
On its mound of earth, on the rise and well rounded,
Encircled by coarse scrub land
Of short heather and modest gorse bushes,
Like a silent sphynx sublime and speechless,
Like a castaway log of magnificent stretch
Which thrown up on the beach by a strong surf
Displays the raw marks of its precedent track
And shows the flank rent open by glorious combat
And speaks about its glories with unspoken language.
Ah, how many mutations may a long, long time fetch!
Whereupon letting both reins float
I went through wild Viqueira pondering sadly
Our ancestors, our memorable Celts,
Their ancient glories, their hard-fought battles,
Our aged dolmens and verdant ancient-hill-forts.
And thereafter, heading to or returning from Nemiña,
Upon seeing it afar on my excursion through the moor
I shouted always with joy, "The dolmen of Dombate!"
Now that my merry years are past,
Now that I live on sad nostalgia alone—
That I struggle to carry on my earthly journey
And that troublesome age whitens my head—
I remember still...still...the dolmen of Dombate.
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