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