"I sat on the banks of the Piedra River and cried. According to legend, everything that falls into this water - tree leaves, bugs, bird feathers - turns into pebbles at the bottom of the river. Oh, that I could tear my heart from my bosom and cast it into your flood! There would be no more pain, no more suffering, no more memories. I sat on the banks of the Piedra River and cried. It was a cold winter's day, and I could feel the tears running down my face, then mixing with the icy water that rushed at my feet. Somewhere this river will join another, and then another, until finally - far from my eyes and heart - all this water flows into the sea. So let my tears flow as far as possible, so that my beloved will never know that I cried for him. Let my tears flow as far as possible so that I can forget the river Piedra, the monastery, the church in the Pyrenees, the fog, the whole journey we have made. Let me forget the highways, mountains and fields of my dreams. My dreams that were mine and yet I didn't know about them.
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Author
Paulo CoelhoAll Translations
All Translations
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I sat on the banks of the Piedra River and cried. According to legend, everything that falls into this water - tree leaves, bugs, bird feathers - turns into pebbles at the bottom of the river. Oh, that I could tear my heart from my bosom and cast it into your flood! There would be no more pain, no more suffering, no more memories. I sat on the banks of the Piedra River and cried. It was a cold winter's day, and I could feel the tears running down my face, then mixing with the icy water that rushed at my feet. Somewhere this river will join another, and then another, until finally - far from my eyes and heart - all this water flows into the sea. So let my tears flow as far as possible, so that my beloved will never know that I cried for him. Let my tears flow as far as possible so that I can forget the river Piedra, the monastery, the church in the Pyrenees, the fog, the whole journey we have made. Let me forget the highways, mountains and fields of my dreams. My dreams that were mine and yet I didn't know about them.
""A Piedra folyó partján ültem, és sírtam. A legenda szerint minden, ami ebbe a vízbe hullik - a falevelek, a bogarak, a madártollak -, a folyó fenekén kaviccsá változik. Ó, ha kitéphetném a szívemet a keblemből, és belehajíthatnám az áradatba! Nem volna többé fájdalom, sem szenvedés, sem emlékek. A Piedra folyó partján ültem, és sírtam. Hideg téli nap volt, és éreztem, ahogy a könnyeim lecsorognak az arcomon, azután elvegyülnek a jeges vízzel, amely a lábaim előtt hömpölyög. Valahol ez a folyó is csatlakozik majd egy másikhoz, aztán megint egy másikhoz, míg végül - távol a szememtől és a szívemtől - ez az összes víz beleömlik a tengerbe. Folyjanak hát minél messzebbre a könnyeim, hogy kedvesem soha ne tudja meg, hogy sírtam miatta. Folyjanak minél messzebbre a könnyeim, hogy elfeledhessem, a Piedra folyót, a kolostort, a templomot a Pireneusokban, a ködöt, az egész utat, amit megtettünk. Hadd felejtsem el álmaim országútjait, hegyeit és mezőit. Álmaimat, amelyek az enyémek voltak, és amelyekről mégsem tudtam."