Gallurese
Erula / Erula / Erula
Da li monti sò falati, li stazzi ani pisatu,
cu li pècuri e lu focu, lu granitu e lu suaru.
Lu nostru faeddu non nasci chici, veni d’Aggius, Tempiu e Bultiggjata:
una linga arribata da fora, fata in chista tarra.
Ea di funtana, tarra noa, sangu antigu, paesi nou.
Erula
quattru cunfini in un nomu solu, la petra canta, l’ea rispondi,
un logu chi no fini di nascì.
Quattru cunfini... No fini di nascì...
Una dì, tra la petra di Spiena, ani autu una balca:
era fatta tutta di bronzu, cu un cervu chi fighjula lu tempu.
Vintiquattru centimetri di balca, guasi trimila anni di silenziu.
Non nauiga, non si moi, ma l’aneddu imbara ancora.
Lu tempu... Silenziu... Imbara ancora...
Ma l’aneddu imbara ancora... Imbara ancora... Imbara ancora...
Perfugas, Tzaramonti, Ozieri e Tula:
da li so’ cunfini è natu lu nostru logu.
Dui olti Santa Vittoria, cunsacrata in petra e altari.
In lu milli novecentu ottantottu, lu cumuni hè natu ancora.
Trè olti natu, tra la ghjesgia e lu paesi.
Trè olti natu, e ancora no basta.
Tzaramonti... Hè natu ancora... E ancora no basta...
quattru cunfini in un nomu solu, la petra canta, l’ea rispondi,
un logu chi no fini di nascì.
Un logu chi no fini... Un logu chi no fini di nascì...
Lu suaru scurticatu rifaci la peddi ogni noi anni.
Leva la peddi, imbara l’àrburu.
Leva lu nomu, imbara lu logu.
Imbara lu logu... Imbara lu logu...
Stazzu a stazzu, focu a focu,
manu a manu, logu a logu.
(bis)
Un logu chi no fini di nascì! (bis)
Erula ×5
Imbara ancora...
English translation
Erula / Erula / Erula
They came down from the mountains, they raised the homesteads,
with the sheep and the fire, the granite and the cork oak.
Our speech was not born here, from Aggius, Tempio and Bortigiadas:
a language that came from outside, made in this land.
Spring water, new earth, ancient blood, new village.
Erula
four borders in a single name, the stone sings, the water answers,
a place that never finishes being born.
Four borders… Never finishes being born…
One day, among the stones of Spiena, they found a boat:
it was made all of bronze, with a stag that watches time.
Twenty-four centimetres of boat, almost three thousand years of silence.
It does not sail, it does not move, but the ring still remains.
Time… Silence… Still remains…
But the ring still remains… Still remains… Still remains…
Perfugas, Tzaramonti, Ozieri and Tula:
from their borders our place was born.
Twice Santa Vittoria, consecrated in stone and altar.
In nineteen eighty-eight, the municipality was born again.
Three times born, between the church and the village.
Three times born, and still it is not enough.
Tzaramonti… Born again… And still it is not enough…
four borders in a single name, the stone sings, the water answers,
a place that never finishes being born.
A place that never finishes… A place that never finishes being born…
The stripped cork oak remakes its skin every nine years.
Take away the skin, the tree remains.
Take away the name, the place remains.
The place remains… The place remains…
Homestead by homestead, fire by fire,
hand by hand, place by place.
(bis)
A place that never finishes being born! (bis)
Erula ×5
Still remains…
