Chica huracán.

Eu falo galego porque me peta,                                                                                                      porque sinto e choro na miña lingua,                                                                                            porque namoro coa miña fala..                                                                                                namorando con bicos e palabras.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Cantaruxando e de foliada mentres                                                                                                         os cativos xogan cos seus bonecos e rin,                                                                                                                                       rin sen fin porque é ledicia todo o que un fala.                                                                                                                           Porque o que falou e sentíu en galego,                                                                                              sabe o que é ter morriña por ver as xoaniñas                                                                                         as bolboretas e os vagalumes un día de treboada,                                                                                                                     aos que están lonxe caenlle as bágoas por un amor,                                                                          un amor que nunca foi pero sempre estivo presente.                                                                      Aos que se foron, aos que quedaron e aos que voltaron,                                                                        aos que sempre botaron de menos un aloumiño,                                                                                 un agarimo ou incluso unha cóxega da sua terra,                                                                            terra querida que sempre quixeron,                                                                                                   terra de bruxas e meigallos,                                                                                                                 miña terra querida que eu amo,                                                                                                          terra de lembranzas.                                                                                                                               ¡Ay, miña estrela que me guía onde eu vou!                                                                                    Miña fala,                                                                                                                                  miña fala querida que floreces ata en inverno,                                                                    xoia dos meus ollos que tanto me enlouqueces,                                                                              corazón que por ti latexa                                                                                                            ao pé da lareira mentres espero por ti meu salouco.                                                                            E mentres penso onde estarás miña rosa,                                                                                         meu pensamento que tanto me asombras,                                                                                      escribo sobre paredes coa sangue que ti me quitache                                                                          e coa alma que ti desprezache.                                                                                                                 Eu so quixera navegar nese mar dos teus ollos,                                                                                   no mar das tuas bágoas sen fin ata afogarmos,                                                                             afogarmos xuntos pero nunca separados,                                                                                           para que morran da envexa os pobres pailáns e trapalleiros.                                                            Para que falen coma os contos para os meniños                                                                                 de que ti e mais eu sempre nos quixemos,                                                                                        miña terra querida,                                                                                                                                 terra de mil amores.                                                                                                                         Quérote, pola mañan, no luscofusco e máis as noites,                                                                     cando a lúa sae de marcha e as estrelas enternece,                                                                              e no amencer o sol a lúa fai esconder.                                                                                              Miña fala,                                                                                                                                  miña terra querida,                                                                                                                   eres todo isto e máis.                                                                                                               Eres doce coma as tuas palabras,                                                                                                         eres tenrura chea de mil lembranzas,                                                                                                     estas chea de pasado nas tuas pisadas,                                                                                                    pero eu non sei que teñen esas miradas.                                                                                           Pero tes un chisco de futuro no medio dun sorriso,                                                                mezclado con carmín e uns cantos bicos de máis e nunca de menos.                                                              Pero se choras miña ruliña,                                                                                                  chora polo que se foi e non volveu,                                                                                    chora como as nubes en primavera.                                                                                 Pensao ben e non chores,                                                                                                  porque a nosa fala é motivo de sorriso e brincadeiras,                                                 porque o noso idioma é único e así nos entendemos.                                                            Ti dirás miña boneca de mil cores se cantas o seu piar,                                                      piar que ata os paxaros falan e as persoas calan,                                                              miña raíña de mil castelos que a todos namoras,                                                                que se ti te caes eu voute erguer coa forza de mil homes.                                                               Eres sentimento e xustiza,                                                                                                                               eres bagoa pero tamen sorriso,                                                                                               eres tantas cousas boas e nunca malas,                                                                               eres a terra que nunca me deixa,                                                                                            por iso digo que ti es fala e contigo vou ate onde faga falta.