Sende mortu cun rigore
Since the son of my soul
su fizu 'e s'anima mia,
has died harshly,
no mi giamedas Maria
don’t call me Mary
si no Mama de dolores,
but Mother of pains,
no mi giamedas Maria
don’t call me Mary
si no Mama de dolores.
but Mother of pains.
Giamademi s'affligida,
Call me the distressed one,
giamademi s'attristada,
call me the sorrowful one,
sa de dolos carrigada
the one loaded with griefs
e de penas consumida,
and worn-out by pains,
ca perdo sa menzus vida
for I’m losing the best life
pro curpa ‘e sos traitores.
because of the traitors.
No mi giamedas Maria
Don’t call me Mary
si no Mama de dolores,
but Mother of pains,
no mi giamedas Maria
don’t call me Mary
si no Mama de dolores.
but Mother of pains.
No mi giamedas Maria
Don’t call me Mary
e ne de grassias piena
nor full of grace
si no de dolores e penas,
but of pain and sorrow,
de turmentu e agonia
of torment and agony,
ca bido sa vida mia
for I see my life
intregada a traitores.
handed over to traitors.
No mi giamedas Maria
Don’t call me Mary
si no Mama de dolores,
but Mother of pains,
no mi giamedas Maria
don’t call me Mary
si no Mama de dolores,
but Mother of pains,
no mi giamedas Maria
don’t call me Mary
si no Mama de dolores.
but Mother of pains.