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Dolça Catalunya, pàtria del meu cor, quan de tu s'allunya d'enyorança es mor. Hermosa vall, bressol de ma infantesa, blanc Pirineu, marges i rius, ermita al cel suspesa, per sempre adéu! Arpes del bosc, pinsans i caderneres, cantau, cantau, jo dic plorant a boscos i riberes: adéu-siau! ¿On trobaré tos sanitosos climes, ton cel daurat? Mes ai, mes ai! ¿on trobaré tes cimes, bell Montserrat? Enlloc veuré, ciutat de Barcelona, ta hermosa Seu, ni eixos turons, joiells de la corona que et posà Déu. Adéu, germans: adéu-siau, mon pare, no us veuré més! Oh! si al fossar on jau ma dolça mare, jo el llit tingués! Oh mariners, lo vent que me'n desterra que em fa sofrir! Estic malalt, mes ai! tornau-me a terra, que hi vull morir!
- by Jacinto Verdaguer (1845 - 1902) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
- by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist , "L'emigrant" [text verified 1 time]
- by Amadeo Vives (1871 - 1932), "L'emigrant", 1893. [SATB chorus a cappella] [text verified 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Victor Lopez Diaz) , title 1: "The emigrant", copyright © 2007, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Albert Vila
Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:01:53
Line count: 28
Word count: 128
Sweet Catalonia, homeland of my heart, being far from thee, One cannot but die from longing. Beautiful valley, cradle of my childhood, white Pyrinees, shores and rivers, heavenly hermitage, eternal farewell! Harps in the forest, pine trees and bushes, do sing, do sing! Weeping, I say to forests and banks Fare thee well! Where shall I find thy wholesome climate, thy golden sky? Alas, alas. Where shall I find your summits, beautiful mountain of Montserrat? Nowhere shall I see, city of Barcelona, thy beautiful cathedral, nor those hills, jewels of the crown that God gave thee. Goodbye, brothers; fare thee well, my father, I shall not see thee any more! I wish my bed were placed where my sweet mother lies! O Sailors, the wind that pushes me far from the land makes me suffer! I am sick, alas! Take me back on the shore for it's there where I want to die!
- Translation from Catalan (Català) to English copyright © 2007 by Victor Lopez Diaz, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.
Victor Lopez Diaz.  Contact: vilodi9 (AT) hotmail (DOT) comIf you wish to commission a new translation, please contact:
Text added to the website: 2007-08-07 00:00:00
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:02:26
Line count: 28
Word count: 153