In Galicia one day I heard
About an old story in a café,
It was about a girl who ran away from her village
Young Anduriña1 who has flown away
They weep at thinking "where is she?"
but no-one wants to go to look for her,
Anduriña they called to her, those she had left there
Please come back to the port quickly!
An old man is near the home
He talks and smiles with malice
Anduriña is young, she will return, you'll see,
She's a little bird without plumage
On a grey day she will settle down,
Her mystery will no longer be
They will never again call her Anduriña
But, in the meantime, where is she?
Where is she? Anduriña, where is she?
1. swallow