1 de Janeiro de 1980: Trinta anos depois…

Terra tremeu em Janeiro
Dum tempo sempre em sentido;
Nosso choro foi inteiro
Perante tudo caído.

Dia de Santa Maria
E da Paz se anunciava…
Ano-Novo de agonia
Na tarde que balançava.

Oitenta, ano de dor
E maior consternação;
Grupo central em furor
Só via destruição…

Um casaco amarelo
Lembro que me abafou,
Da minha mãe (era belo),
E pra sempre me marcou.

Eu tremia tanto, tanto,
E o medo se acendeu…
O Divino Espírito Santo
E a Senhora nos valeu.

Outra dor me percorreu
Ao saber duma rapariga:
Caiu-lhe pedra… morreu…
Zita, minha boa amiga.

Chorei tanto a sua morte,
Das Doze, a melhor colega,
Na escola era forte
Lembro bem da sua entrega.

Mais tarde soube então
Que uma prima altarense,
A Aida da Conceição,
Enluta o lar terceirense.

E outras mortes mancharam
Outros lares de amargura
E os parentes choraram
Triste sina à sepultura.

Trinta anos contam agora
Da tragédia insular;
Reconstrução, sem demora,
Pôs todos a trabalhar.

Muitas ajudas de fora,
Do Continente e estrangeiro,
Merecem a toda a hora
Nosso Louvor verdadeiro.

E as nossas Entidades,
Forças Vivas e Armadas,
Gente das Comunidades
Sejam pra sempre louvadas.

January 1, 1980: Thirty years later…

The earth shook in January
Of a time forever standing still;
We wept uncontrollably
In the presence of everything in ruins.

The Day of St. Mary
And of Peace announced itself…
New Year of agony
On the afternoon that pitched back and forth.

Eighty, year of pain
And great consternation;
The central island group in a frenzy
Only saw destruction…
I recall how my mother’s yellow jacket
covered me
(it was beautiful)
And it marked me forever.

I was trembling so very very much,
And my fear was ignited…
The Divine Holy Ghost
And Our Lady protected us.

Another sorrow ran through me
Upon learning of a young woman:
Rocks fell on her… She died…
Zita, my good friend.

I wept so much over her death,
She was from Doze Ribeiras, my closest classmate,
At school she was strong
I remember well her surrender.

Then later I found out
That a cousin from Altares,
Aída da Conceição,
Engulfed her Terceira home into mourning.

And other deaths stained
Other homes with bitterness
And relatives wept
Their sad fate at grave’s side.

Thirty years have now passed
Since the island tragedy;
Rebuilding without delay
Put everyone to work.

Much help arrived from outside,
From the Continent and abroad,
They will forever deserve
Our heartfelt Praise.

And our institutions,
Rescue Squads and Armed Forces,
People from the overseas communities
May they always be praised.

A Autora dessas rimas, Rosa Maria Silva, poeta popular, é da Ilha Terceira nascida na Serreta.
Assina o Blog Azoriana”/“Açoriana”.

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Notas Biobliográficas dos Tradutores (translators):

KATHARINE F. BAKER, a second-generation native Californian with roots on the islands of Flores and São Jorge in the Azores. Katherine has degrees  from the University of California-Berkeley and the University of Maryland.
                                    
DR. BOBBY J. CHAMBERLAIN, a native Californian, who has earned his B.A. and Ph.D. from the University of California-Los Angeles (UCLA), is currently a tenured Associate Professor of Hispanic Languages and Literatures at the University of Pittsburgh (Pennsylvania).

Créditos Imagens: 1 e 3: www.gallery.em.com
                            2: C.M.Angra do Heroísmo.