Veia digl Pader 08: Igl amprem de da tgatscha

Igl amprem de da tgatscha

El sto star, igl por catscheder vigl!

Torbel scu sies spievel è igl sies îgl;

scu sies fist cun croc el è strubo:

Noua cun tramblez e strètg da flo?

Ved claveglia larma, trest e met,

Larmas da ravetna, sies slip t!

En starsung rebatta no digls gods...

No cugl spievel... Varda, vard'igls ots!

Tras en stgerp digls neivels romp'anetg

Ainten rom d'argent. Flammont vadretg...

Cotschens colms d'aton sur'gl univers:

o! Tg'è Pers, Tg'è Pers...

Fr. Alexander Lozza

The first day of        hunting

The poor old hunter stays behind!

His glass is cloudy, and his vision is still duller.

Like the handle of his stick, he is bent

And trembles, struggles for breath when it rises

It's dripping from the shotgun on the wall

Rust-brown tears on the hunter's hand!

A shot falls from the distant forest...

The telescope here.... Peek into the mountains!

The clouds part, and suddenly

silvered, a glacier's light...

The mountains rise red in autumn:

oh! The world of his dreams that he lost...

Leza Uffer (translation)