El comte i la pastora [English translation]

There was a great lord

Who lived in his castle

And, in the village, not far at all from him

There lived a labourer.

The labourer had a daughter;

She was sweet, robust and beautiful

And the earl, madly in love with her,

Would spend his days and nights sighing.

Because around all that region

There wasn't another girl

Who had a more delicate face

Or more graces and talents.

And each time he would see her,

He would openly declare his love

And she, immediately turned,

As bright red as a pomegranate!

He called her "thief of hearts"

And came really close to her;

He didn't get any other answers than:

-"You're an earl and I am a mere shepherdess!"

-"I will become a shepherd for you:

I am tired of my wealth!"

-"My lord the earl, you're too late;

I've already given my heart to another!"

And the earl, completely enraged,

Ran away into the creek

And, when he saw that there was no one around,

He stood in the middle of the road!

Very soon after, he saw appear

A young lad who came (into town);

It was the boy he wanted to find:

The spite revealed it to him!

He told him: "Young lad, you're a problem for me

So, either you kill me, or I kill you.

One of us, from this duel,

Shall go directly to his grave".

He offered (the boy) a sword;

The boy rejected it by all means possible.

And the earl became exasperated

And, with his own sword, stabbed him from side to side.

Everything happened to fast...

And the young man issued a scream

When he felt, inside his chest,

That the earl had stabbed him!

The earl washed himself

With the waters of the creek

And, the boy's corpse, he took in a rush

To be buried in a cattle's enclosure...

After four nights had passed,

He went to the shepherdess's house...

She just missed her beloved;

She knows nothing of those events!

He took her white hand

And dragged her into the bedroom

And the earl, to ensure his victory,

Closed the door with great strength.

The poor shepherdess cried:

-"Oh, my love, come and help me!"

And dropped dead at once,

For she wasn't afraid anymore.

And, for seven years after,

Each time (the earl) looked in the mirror,

The mirror would show him

The blood stain (across his face)!

• Artist:Maria del Mar Bonet
• Album:Cançons de festa (1975)