Les aranyes

Music by José Sancho Marraco

Words by Apel·les Mestres

 

La mare de Déu cap al tard filava

lo sol era post, les flors aclucades.

La guanya la son a mitja fusada,

li cauen les mans damunt de la falda

 

De tots als racons acuden aranyes

escalen el fus i el maset engamben

el fil començat feineres agafen,

en un dir Jesús, tot el floc filaven.

 

La mare de Déu ja se’n despertava

« Déu vos do salut, filadores santes,

el que filareu seran fils de plata,

per filosa i fus les florides branques »

 

The mother of God at twilight was spinning,

The sun was setting, the flowers closing their eyes,

Tired and overcome by sleep, her head drops on her breast,

Her hand rests on her knees.

During the silence of repose come the spiders,

Cheerfully and diligently they run up the spindle

And take up the ungathered threads,

So rapidly did they work, that in less time that it took to say « Jesus »

They neatly finished the spinning.

When the Virgin awoke she found her task completed.

« God give you health, my busy and holy weavers

Henceforth whatever you weave shall be with silver threads,

As fo spindles and distaff, you shall always find the trees in bloom. »

The Complete Conchita Supervia, Vol. 1
Odeon 1927-1928