Yesterday's posts made me think of this song that I love. It's also a song inspired by the maquis (guerrilla fighters against Franco's dictatorship), or so I have always interpreted.

I si demà no tornara ("If I don't come back tomorrow") by the Valencian band Obrint Pas.

Here's the lyrics in Valencian-Catalan and the translation to English:

La por em desvetla a les nits sense dormir i sent el vell revòlver que descansa sobre el pit en aquest bosc humit els silenci és l’enemic a trenc d’alba partim seguint les llums del matí

Fear keeps me up on sleepless nights and I feel the old revolver that rests on my chest. In this humid forest silence is the enemy. At the break of dawn we leave following the morning lights.

Travessem l’aurora entre els cingles del massís en aquestes muntanyes sobreviure és resistir hem canviat mil cops de nom però tots sabem qui som guerrillers supervivents combatents de l’últim front

We cross the sunrise among the mountain range's cliffs. In these mountains, to survive is to resist. We have changed our names a thousand times but we all know who we are: surviving guerrilla fighters, combatants of the last front.

Unes flames roges cremem el nostre horitzó la casa on dormirem és un esquelet de foc han matat el masover ens solia refugiar anit em va somriure quan ens vam acomiadar

Red flames burn in our horizon: the house where we slept is a skeleton of fire. They have killed the sharecropper, he used to take us in, last night he smiled at me when we said goodbye.

La lluna ens recorda que som com estels errants ombres d’una guerra perduda en sendes de fang i quan la foscor em venç acaricie en soledat un record en blanc i negre el motiu del meu combat

The moon reminds me that we're like shooting stars, shadows of a war lost in muddy paths and when darkness beats me I caress in solitude a memory in black and white, the reason for my fight.

I si demà no tornara al lloc on et vaig deixar vull que recordes que un dia joves com nosaltres vam marxar a lluitar armats d’amor i coratge i un clavell roig amagat combatrem fins l’últim dia sota bandera de la llibertat

And if tomorrow I don't come back to the place where I left you I want you to remember that one day young people like us left to go fight armed with love and courage and a hidden red carnation we'll fight until the last day under the flag of freedom.

(Repeat lyrics)

The voices towards the end of the song, before the last chorus, are reading the names and ages of some of the antifascist fighters who were executed by Franco's dictatorship. Some of the voices overlap so I'm not 100% sure of all, but this is what I hear:

Here is a second song by Obrint Pas (the other one is here). It’s a wonderful, melancholy ode to the Valencian country, the band’s place of origin. I can’t think of a better song to describe how beautiful and magical this place is.

Obrint Pas - Al país de l’olivera || Valencian country

Al país de l’olivera, hi ha un riu de paper, unes galtes color terra i un somriure d’argent.

Al país de les riberes, hi ha un canyar sota els estels i un mural de fulles seques a l’ombra d’un taronger.

In the country of olive trees, there’s a river made of paper, earth-coloured cheeks and a silver smile.

In the country of riverbanks, there is a reed bed under the stars and a wall of dry leaves in the shadow of an orange tree.

Al país que dorm a l’era, hi ha polsim de fruites velles, bicicletes entre sèquies, arracades de cireres.

Al país de les teulades, hi ha besos d’aiguallimó, arrapades a les cames, parotets a dins del cor.

In the country that sleeps on the threshing floor, there’s the dust of old fruits, bikes amongst irrigation ditches, bunches of cherries.

In the country of rooftops, there are aiguallimó-flavoured kisses, scratched legs, dragonflies inside our hearts. Al país de la infantesa, hi ha il·lusions a les palpentes somnis dibuixats a l’aire promeses a les orelles.

Al país que jo ara enyore, hi guarde un tresor secret un lligam que mai no es trenca un amor que mai no es perd.

In the country of childhood, there are illusions lost in the dark, dreams drawn in the air, promises in our ears.

In the country I’m now yearning for, I have a secret treasure, a bond that’ll never break, a love that’ll never be lost. Al país de cases blanques, hi ha pins banyats en sal margallons entre baladres peus descalços dins el mar.

Al país de les marines, hi ha un sol roig a les vesprades catxirulos a les platges i uns dits pentinant onades.

In the country of white houses, there are pines bathed in salt, palms amongst oleanders, bare feet in the sea.

In the country of seashores, there is red sun in the evenings, kites on the beach, and fingers brushing the waves.

Al país de les rialles, hi ha raïm a les porxades ametles i olives negres un arròs fet amb costelles.

Al país de les costeres, hi ha llaüts i guitarrons i la veu de les rondalles pessigant les emocions*.

In the country of laughter, there are grapes hanging from the colonnades, almonds and black olives, a dish of rice made with meat chops.

In the country of seacoasts, there are lutes and guitarrons and the voice of our folk tales tweaking our feelings.

Al país de la infantesa, hi ha il·lusions a les palpentes, somnis dibuixats a l’aire, promeses a les orelles.

Al país que jo ara enyore, hi guarde un tresor secret un lligam que mai no es trenca un amor que mai no es perd.

In the country of childhood, there are illusions lost in the dark, dreams drawn in the air, promises in our ears.

In the country I’m now yearning for, I have a secret treasure, a bond that’ll never break, a love that’ll never be lost.

aiguallimó: a cold, refreshing Valencian drink made with water, sugar and lime.