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La Balenguera misteriosa
com una aranya d'art subtil,
buida que buida sa filosa,
de nostra vida treu el fil.
Com una parca bé cavila,
teixint la tela per demà.
La Balenguera fila, fila.
La Balenguera filarà.
Girant l'ullada cap enrera
guaita les ombres de l'avior
i de la nova primavera
sap on s'amaga la llavor.
Sap que la soca més s'enfila
com més endins pot arrelar.
La Balenguera fila, fila.
La Balenguera filarà.
De tradicions i d'esperances
tix la senyera pel jovent
com qui fa un vel de nuviances
amb cabelleres d'or i argent.
De la infantesa qui s'enfila,
de la vellura qui se'n va.
La Balenguera fila, fila.
La Balenguera filarà. |
The misterious
Balanguera,
as a subtle art spider,
empties that it empties her distaff
and takes out the thread of our lifes.
As a Parca well ponders
weaving the cloth for tommorrow
The Balanguera spins, spins,
the Balanguera will spin.
Turning her glance
to the past
she guards the shades of ancestry
and of the new spring
she knows where one hides the seed.
She knows that the vine-stock more gets entangled
since it can take root deeper.
The Balanguera spins, spins
the Balanguera will spin.
From traditions and from hopes
she weaves the flag for the youth
as who prepares a wedding veil
with hairs of gold and silver
of the youth who gets entangled
of the old age who goes away
The Balanguera spins, spins,
the Balanguera will spin
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