La morta vara
Ulache n iede fova
l rëni dla lijënda
iel mé na morta vara
danter montes scherpëntes
L vërt di prei
s’ à delegà ti lec,
cësa d’Aganes spevies
tl plu sot de l’eghes
Les cunedësc
i tëmps che vën,
zënza che deguni ntënde
l sonn de si paroles
Sëura l ciastel desdrù
jola i crutons cruvei
cui spirc di morc
dla vieres pierses
Mé sota i crëps smarìi
vif mò l record perdù
dl popul muciadif
dla muntanioles…
The dead ravine
Where there once was
a reign of legend
there is only a dead ravine
between craggy mountains
The green meadows
have melted into lakes,
home to shy Aganes
in the deepest depth of waters
They announce
times to come,
but nobody is able
to understand their words
Over the ruined castle
fly cruel crows
with the ghosts of fallen warriors
of lost battles
But under the pale mountains
the memory lives on
of the fled people
of marmots…
