OLATZ ZUGASTI

AGUR ETA OHORE

Words: Olatz Zugasti
Music: Traditional./Brendan Graham

As the seagull skims over the waters it lets out its melodies

we warmly want to thank you who accompany us here today

Please take home with you
a memento of what we are regards and blessings to you and be welcome to our shore

A song based on an Irish tune (“The Fair Fair Land” see below*) on which Brendan Graham wrote the original lyrics. Olatz wrote the words in Basque language and released it in 2014 in Orio for the Kilometroak Big Party organized by the Ikastola (Basque School) in Orio (a seaside town in Gipuzkoa). The lyrics bid welcome to all the people who attended the event. Welcome to our shore. ”Agur eta Ohore” means: Best Regards and Blessings to you.

*The Fair, Fair Land was commissioned by RTE – Ireland’s national broadcaster – as the anthem for RTE Radio1’s Big Music Week, 2013 . Graham describes it as ‘A love song to Ireland, coming out of difficult times’.
First recorded as a single for Children’s Charity, Barnardos by The BIG MUSIC WEEK ENSEMBLE – Celine Byrne, Cathy Jordan, Nono Madolo, Eimear Quinn and the RTE Concert Orchestra, the Fair, Fair Land also featured on the EBU’s Tune In – The Music of Europe.

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SENA

Words and Music: Olatz Zugasti

I like to walk all by myself along the infinite path

and, on looking around,
to know for certain that
wherever I go, you’ll be there,
to feel that my spirit gets stronger with every step I take.

I’ll light upon rivers and mountains, big cities with harbours,
but it’s you, who walk along with me, that heartens me,

even when the light goes dim....

While you stay with me,
what can cause my instinct to get befuddled, not to see the snares at the crossroads.
You blossom just like a rose in the morning in each bit of stillness
amid the clatter and uproar

There is no moment or place
that I did not get to know,
no solid universal principle
that did not stem from my own self going hand in hand with you, beyond all conventions

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MEZULARIA

Music: Brendan Graham Words: Olatz Zugasti

​

It was the Night that prompted someone
to pick up that tune in writing
which has reached me as a message from you

You become a dream,
an eaglet’s flight
painting my blank canvas with the flow of life.

You have left a clean trail in me, you, a harbinger that drifts away gliding over the waves.

I hear say that you hold the seed of Wholeness,
that the Stars, the South and the Midday all dwell in you.

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BAKEAN ALA OTZANDUA

Music and Words: Olatz Zugasti

​

Just like the water slides down the windows, so do the dreams in your mind.
You crack a smile
in front of the mirror

while you put red lipstick on so the people can say
that you really look like a dolly

You come to me wailing and weeping, but what’s the purpose of it all
if you’re bound to disguise
your wounds again tomorrow?

Walking through bustling, crowded streets, the playground of oppressors,
pretending to go unnoticed,
are you at peace ....... or tamed?

When you are wont to take shelter
in the outside, the idle talk and appearances, when you just utter the flattering words
that will tickle the others’ vanity,
isn’t it clear enough
that you are anything but free....?

​

GAU HOTZENEAN ERE 

In the coldest night too, once the fire has extinguished
blazing embers still survive.
He launched a last glance to Baigorri from Izpegi
There is no equivalent to Kattalin’s shade

The roar of war has led him to run away
as battles compel him to kill his relatives,
he feels that this war is in no way his own
and cutting off ties with relatives, he heads for America

The further he gets into the arid lands and the farther the pier lies,
so does the burble of hope strike dumb.
 

The fact of being Navarrese and heir to the gentry of Baztan 
sets him free from listing in the Castilian troops
should he have been capable of speaking that strange language,
he wouldn´t be holding a weapon on his hands.

One day, as he was keeping watch near the Catalonian border
He could hear an old Basque song on the other side
He rushed in search of his next of kin
And at daybreak he was found amid “enemies”.

At dawn, with drums resounding
he fell backwards, directing his gaze towards Navarre.
Chaffinches moaning, wing their way from the tree,
in the distance the bells toll on the tower of Erratzu
 

The fact of being Navarrese and heir to the gentry of Baztan 
sets him free from listing in the Castilian troops.
Chaffinches screeching and flying off the trees
in the distance the bells toll on the tower of Erratzu

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GOIZEKO BORTZETAN

​

If I had two wings
I would immediately rush
to your window sill
to bid my greetings to you.

to your window sill
to bid my greetings to you
from my cloud
at five in the morning

It’s raining outside
I wonder if you can hear it
If I were rain too
I would immediately rush

to your window sill
to bid my greetings to you
from my cloud
at five in the morning

​

AMERIKARA NOA 

I’m on my way to America of my own accord
In the hope that there I will live better 

Fed up as I am of belonging here
Farewell, father and mother, best wishes to you

Aforetime did I have a son in America
Who left our country twenty years ago
Should you come across his trail
Do tell him that his father is still alive

I drink coffee twice a day
And go for walks whenever I feel like
No scarcity of food, drink or health
dear father, should these mores be also found in Donostia! 
 

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NEGUKO ARRATSALDE BATEAN

One winter’s evening

you appeared at the door.

Your face grimy yet bright,

You, as bold as you were able.

Playing my harp,

and to ensure its possession,

you made me swear an oath.

Txirrita sung

the stories of your grandparents.

How some stole

while others danced.

And every Thursday, on Perkaiztegi Street,

women 

were possessed by devils.

And you, hands in pockets, 

and with an evil gaze,

while you were wandering around the market, 

they came across your sister

weeping,

one leg tucked under her skirt.

Maybe I’ll see you now

as you come and go.

Telling yarns to those

desperate for dreams.

Singing, guitar in hand.

Maybe…

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ITOITZ

M+L: Olatz Zugasti

​

Dark clouds gathering, tremors in the ground, insults lacerate
the walls of Itoitz. Dark clouds gathering, a prayer on my lips.

Oh our old fig tree,
our old fig tree,
your bounteous shade
that put all pain and angst to slumber. Oh our old fig tree,

drowned in denial.

Our old vegetable garden,
our old vegetable garden,
may the lament that sounds beneath the water soar high in the air with the rook.
Dark clouds gathering,
a prayer on my lips.

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BAT, BIGA, HIRUR...

Words and Music: Olatz Zugasti

​

Beautiful words had been spread in the air, like polluting fumes
that swaddle the minds
in a dangerous comfort.

Holders of purported plurality gurus pretending equality, they only utter hollow words in a debate lost beforehand

Beautiful, empty words that by dint of recurrence will have us confined
in a cloud of vain hope

One, two, three, four, five .... fighting for the most pompous term;

​

in a happy-go-lucky party of alleged plurality, surrounded by a high and low fence.

Empty words, a sham of universality,
meaning so little and so much at the same time; words that influential thinkers
put in the lips of the people
words that will open the gates of the last refuge.