El Meu País

I was looking up poetry last night and discovered this beautiful poem by Catalan poet Miquel Martí i Pol (1929-2003).  Below is the original Catalan, and beneath the cut is an English translation.

El Meu País

Tots els anys que he hagut de viure
allunyat del meu país
han estat una nit fosca,
un camí ple de neguit.
Penso en tot allò que enrera
vaig deixar quan vaig partir
i amb els ulls de l’esperança
torno encara al meu país.

No estimo res com la dolcesa
del cel blau del meu país;
ara en sóc lluny,
però me’n recordo
dia i nit.
Si un dia hi torno, el vent que em rebi
esborrarà tots els neguits
i oblidaré els anys que he viscut
tan sol i trist.

No hi ha res que no em recordi
cada instant el meu país,
tot em fa pensar en els dies
que hi vaig viure tan feliç.
Quan camino el vent em porta
veus que el temps no ha pas marcit;
si m’adormo el que somio
és només el meu país.

No estimo res com la dolcesa
del cel blau del meu país;
ara en sóc lluny, però me’n recordo
dia i nit.
Si un dia hi torno, el vent que em rebi
esborrarà tots els neguits
i oblidaré els anys que he viscut
tan sol i trist.

Abans que la mort m’arribi
vull tornar al meu país;
trepitjar la terra amiga,
caminar pels vells camins.
Vull sentir les veus que estimo,
vull plorar pels vells amics
i morir quan sigui l’hora
sota el cel del meu país.

No estimo res com la dolcesa
del cel blau del meu país;
ara en sóc lluny, però me’n recordo
dia i nit.
Si un dia hi torno,
el vent que em rebi
esborrarà tots els neguits
i oblidaré els anys que he viscut
tan sol i trist.


My Country

All the years I've had to live
far from my country
have been a dark night
a path full of denial.
I think in all that which I left
behind when I went away
and with hope in my eyes
I still return to my country.

I love nothing like the sweetness
of the blue skies in my country;
I'm now far away,
but I remember it
day and night.
If I return one day, the wind which receives me
will erase all denial
and I will forget the years I lived
so alone and sad.

There's nothing that doesn't remind me
every instant of my country,
everything makes me think of the days
I lived there so happily.
When I walk the wind brings me
voices that time has not wilted;
if I fall asleep what I dream
is only of my country.

I love nothing like the sweetness
of the blue skies in my country;
I am now far away, but I remember it
day and night.
If I return one day, the wind which receives me
will erase all denial
and I will forget the years I lived
so alone and sad.

Before death comes to me
I want to return to my country;
place my feet on friendly land,
walk on old paths.
I want to hear the voices I love,
I want to cry for old friends
and die when it's time
beneath the sky of my country.

I love nothing like the sweetness
of the blue skies in my country;
I am now far away, but I remember it
day and night.
If I return one day, the wind which receives me
will erase all denial
and I will forget the years I lived
so alone and sad.