Cego o meu canto, Vellos Nemetatos, Cantigas escuras Pos xordos bardos. Bordón sen zanfona Non paga a bola, Gaita sen palleta, Cego sen peseta. Gorxa doente O pobo non aplaude Seica berras moito Téñente por tolo. Enxebre escuridá A ti che danzo Pautarei co demo Antes que colle-lo sacho! Ai la le lo ai la la! Eu non sei outro cantar, que se me tiras do fol aturuxo no Luar. Ai la le lo ai la la! Xa que teño pandeirá Invocarei ós xordos pra bailares meu cantar. Folklore das mil linguas Nun país dun só cantar Trobar sen ollos Do sentir ancestral. English: Song of the Blind for the Deaf. Blind is my singing Old Nemetatos Dark songs for the deaf bards Stick without hurdy-gurdy doesn’t pay the ball Pipe without “palleta” Blind without a penny Painful throat people don’t clap their hands it is said you scream too loud and they all think you’re mad Old typical darkness to you I dance I would pact with the devil before taking the weeding hoe! Ai la le lo ai la la! I know not of any other singing if you pull my bellows, I'll scream at the full moon. Ai la le lo ai la la! Now that I have my tambourine I’ll invoke the deaf ones to dance my song Folklore of the thousand tongues in a country of one single song Recital without eyes of the ancestral feeling

Prima morte, luar de Xuno, Danzas do xear plenilunio, Almas que migran ó alén, Beberaxe sacro de mel. Altar de raíces en pedra, Cantar do lume nas tebras, Borralla que curas o mal De aire do mortuorio expirar. Lúa morta, fúnebre portal! Ritos de negra cinza, elementos sen vida, dos cornos do cervo alado invoco ó portal sagrado. Lúa vella, bendice as mareas. Lúa nova, molla a terra co teu tronar. Crecente luar, mata o verme do famento. E no minguar, silencia o lamento. Condenada a ser devorada Boca do lobo, eterna pousada, leito de guerreiros vencidos, Ventre de bechos renacidos. Morto o sol nas ardentes agullas, En romaxe honramos á lúa, Cantares á Deusa Branca, xaneiro troba a matanza. Lúa vella, bendice as mareas. Lúa nova, molla a terra co teu tronar. Crecente luar, mata o verme do famento. E no minguar, silencia o lamento. Lúa morta, fúnebre portal! Sombras, ermo xerme, envolves en pel de serpe o sexo que estéril dorme ata o luar crecente. Noite de morto plenilunio: resurrección Deusas do inverno infecundo: Reencarnación. Astro de cuarto crecente, raios do tolear, Curuxa que dorme, semente de ervellas, veleno do namorar. Na mentira dos cornos do cuarto minguar escoita o xaneiro, retorna a alma dos nosos guerreiros Prima morte, luar de Xuno, Danzas do xear plenilunio, Almas que migran ó alén, Beberaxe sacro de mel. Altar de raíces en pedra, Cantar do lume nas tebras, Borralla que curas o mal De aire do mortuorio expirar. Condenada a ser devorada Boca do lobo, eterna pousada, leito de guerreiros vencidos, Ventre de bechos renacidos. Morto o sol nas ardentes agullas, En romaxe honramos á lúa, Cantares á Deusa Branca, Xaneiro troba a matanza. Lúa morta! Lúa vella, bendice as mareas. Lúa nova, molla a terra co teu tronar. Crecente luar, mata o verme do famento. E no minguar, silencia o lamento. English: Fourth Prayer On Dead Moon Raw death, moonlight in June Dances of the full moon frost, Migrating Souls to the beyond Sacred honey elixir Altar of roots on stone Song of the fire in the darkness Ashes that heal the evil of the air from the mortuary breath Dead moon, gloomy portal! Black ash rites lifeless elements of the winged deer horns I invoke the sacred portal Old moon, bless the waves Young moon, drench the land with your thundering Crescent moon, kill the worm of the hungry and when decline comes, silence the moan Condemned to be devoured Wolf mouth, eternal inn Bed of defeated warriors Belly of reborn bugs The sun's dead in the burning nails In pilgrimage we honour the moon Songs to the White Goddess January sings to the slaughter Old moon, bless the waves Young moon, drench the land with your thundering Crescent moon, kill the worm of the hungry and when decline comes, silence the moan Dead moon, gloomy portal! Shadows, wasted seed you cover in serpent skin the sex that sleeps sterile until the crescent moon Night of dead full moon: Resurrection Goddesses of the infertile winter: Reencarnation Star of crescent, rays of madness Sleeping owl, seed of beans, infatuated love poison In the lie of the waning horns January listens, our warriors' souls return Raw death, moonlight in June Dances of the full moon frost, Migrating Souls to the beyond Sacred honey elixir.

Danzan as meigas no oculto brumar, Pautan co demo o seu espertar. Retorcen as hedras do pedregal, Do círculo ergue a vida colosal. Lume lanzal, escoita o berrar ancestral. Lúa chea, verte o sangue sobre o val. Cornos do mal, concibir o meu espertar. Letárxica fraga, esperta co meu cantar. O orballo alimenta túa alma, o lume novo arreda o inverno, Da terra brota o teu corpo, esperta mística do ermo. Sucumbe memoria ó bautismo Sombreade lembranzas ós pinos Formosa alborada de cortiza branca, Garrida xeada con ósos de pedra, No sentido do sol danzan as chamas, No caos emerxe a fraga. Brancos curutos, bóveda dos ventos, Resplandece verde prado ós lamentos. Escuma da vida, esculpe teu danzar Pagás invocacións ós elementais. Reliquia que futura terra fertiliza, Sobre ira que leda brúa na brisa, Morre o serán ós nosos ollos, Renace Bríxida no crisálido soño. E na danza do teu mirar vexo castros, vexo o mar… E nos beizos do teu Imbolc vexo a arder a lúa, vexo xear o sol… Esperta! No que foi dourado chan, Esperta! onde tornou xélida a man, Voltan as follas no alto a sombrear, A verde ultraxe da cíclica fraga-nai. English: Awake! Lethargic and Wasted Forest. The witches dance in the hidden mist, they pact with the devil their awakening Twisting the ivy on the stony place Out of the circle the colossal life rises. Healthy fire, listen to the ancient cry Full moon, spill the blood over the valley Evil horns, conceive my awakening Lethargic forest, awake with my song The drizzle feeds your soul the young fire keeps the winter away from the soil your body emerges awake, mystic of the waste Succumb, memory, to the baptism Darken the remembrances from the pines Beautiful dawn of white cork, Neat frost with stone bones, The flames dance in the direction of the sun The forest emerges from the chaos White summits, vault of the winds Shine, green meadows, to the moans Life foam, carve your dance Pagan invocations to the elemental ones Relic that fetilize the future earth above the wrath that gladly roars in the breeze The evening dies in front of our eyes Brigid is reborn in the chrysalid dream And in the dance of your look I see the castros(*), I see the sea... And in the lips of your Imbolc I see the moon burning, I see the sun freezing Awake! In the once golden land, Awake! where the hand turned away in ice The leaves darken high above once again The green outrage of the cyclic mother-forest (*) castro: old iron age settlement