Meanwhile, overwhelmed, the loving girl
Was fainting away with suffering and cried feverishly;
But she lives in an isolated room of the castle
And no will take pity on her ills.
Look at her! Her hair falls down her back,
Her eyes are blank, her heart is breaking.
She gets into her room, shuts the door with a bolt
And is, poor little thing, groaning in a corner.
From the high room where she sleeps through the window
Carpeted with basil, poppies and ALELIS
A white ray of pleasant moonlight bursts in
And the perfumed aroma of the fresh countryside.
From there Rosiña listens to the burbling of the stream
Which tumbles over the rocks nearby the castle,
The resounding call of two night birds
And the music that the wind makes in the tree-tops.
But her heart is so eaten up with grief
That she can find no consolation or pleasure in anything
And she cries and cries like the Magdalene,
It is pitiful, quite pitiful to see her like this.
O, first disappointment of our first love
You bring with you cold, sunless mornings,
You show us the worm in the orange blossom
And turn our heart into dry parsley.
Wherever you past you leave the corrupt spit
Of the venomous snake, bitter like bile,
You turn the most beautiful life into a hell,
And leave behind nothing but cruel weariness.
This disappappointment eats away at Rosiña’s breast
As she unbaptises herself, drying herself out with grief;
She dries her tears with the edge of her handkerchief
And many times exclaims, weeping all over again:
“Oh, may God love me if I know what he was talking about!
It must be someone else’s spiteful lies,
because I will swear at the foot of the cross,
that I love no one but him and do not want to either.
“If he should ask for proofs, if I could give them,
I could show him the treasure box of my virtues
And he would see I have saved, even if he doesn’t care,
That one virtue which it is my duty to preserve.”
She was so tired with sobbing and struggling in the end,
With so much in her head from so much thinking,
That care-worn Rosa fell heavily down,
Knocking her weary temple on the bedstead.
Little by little her eyes began to close
And sharp pains lit up in her of a pure love,
And praying to the Virgin from a half-closed mouth,
She drifted off into an enchanted sleep.
The a Lady
all clothed in light
crowned with stars
that are like diamonds,
a cloak on her head
of black velvet, so pretty,
came quietly smiling
into the room.
Never in the world has been seen
Such and enchanting creature,
Nor can there be anything to compare
To such great beauty:
For eyes she has two bright stars,
For teeth, pearls from the sea,
For hair she has rays of sunshine
For her laugh… a dawning day.
From her ears hanging down
She wore crescent moons
And her Galician costume,
A tunic of silken velvet,
Little clogs of almond wood
On her pretty little feet,
And around her waist a band
With folds that bring it all together.
Step by step she approached
The bed in which Rosa was sleeping
And graciously bestowing
A loving look upon her,
She said in a soft tone,
“Rosiña, the Virgin Mary
Brings you consolation and favour.
I know very well that your soul
Is overwhelmed with grief;
I know very well that you are suffering
Due to someone who doubts your virtue;
But I, who come from Heaven
Care for those who call on me,
I will make it so- yes?- that your good name
Will be restored to what it was before.
Don’t cry, my little one,
Don’t cry any more, little shepherdess;
I am looking out for you, my child,
You are under my protection.
Martiño will be repentant
Tomorrow for what I shall do to him;
The following day he will be with you
On the mountain, if to the mountain you go.”
Our Lady was quiet
And wrapped up in a gilded cloud
She rose up slowly… slowly… slowly
And was lost in the immense sky.
Rose remained there sleeping
In easeful repose, the gift of the Virgin.
She will wake up soon. The cock has already
Called, bringing on the morning.