Text: Based on Oda a Salamanca by Miguel de Unamuno

Duration: 12'

Premiere (date and place):
Oct-12-1953
Universidad de Salamanca - Joaquín Deus, Cuarteto Clásico de Radio Nacional, choir, soloists of the Orquesta Nacional de España, conductor: Odón Alonso

Selection of CDs available from our shop:
1- Gerard Quinn. Exeter Philharmonic Choir, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Raymond Calcraft - EMI, Edición Centenario Joaquín Rodrigo, vol I, cd 9
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Selection of CDs available elsewhere:

Score available:

1. orchestra
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2. reduction for piano
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Lyrics:

Oda a Salamanca

Alto soto de torres que al ponerse
tras las encinas que el celaje esmaltan,
dora a los rayos de su lumbre el padre
sol de Castilla.

Bosque de piedras que arrancó la historia
a las entrañas de la tierra madre,
remanso de quietud, yo te bendigo;
¡mi Salamanca!

Miras a un lado, allende el Tormes lento,
de las encinas el follaje pardo,
cual el follaje de tus piedras, inmoble,
denso y perenne.

Y del otro lado, por la calva Armuña,
ondea el trigo, cual tus piedras, de oro,
y entre los surcos, al morir la tarde,
duerme el sosiego.

Duerme el sosiego y la esperanza duerme:
de otras cosechas y otras dulces tardes,
las horas, al correr sobre la tierra,
dejan su rastro.

Al pie de tus sillares, Salamanca,
de las cosechas del pensar tranquilo,
que año tras año maduró en tus aulas,
duerme el recuerdo.

Duerme el recuerdo, la esperanza fuerme,
y es el tranquilo curso de tu vida
como el crecer de las encinas: lento,
lento y seguro.

¡Oh!, Salamanca, entre tus piedras de oro
aprendieron a amar los estudiantes,
mientras los campos que te ciñen, daban
jugosos frutos.

Del corazón en las honduras guardo
tu alma robusta; cuando yo muera,
guarda, dorada Salamanca mía,
tú mi recuerdo.

Y cuando el sol al acostarse encienda
el oro secular que te recama,
con tu lenguaje, de lo eterno heraldo,
di tú que he sido.

(M. de Unamuno)

(English version by Eleanor L. Turnbull)

Tall grove of towers that, as he goes down
back of the trees that embellish cloudscape,
the father Sun of Castile doth touch with
his golden rays;

Great forest of stone that drew out the history
from the deep recesses of mother earth,
backwater of quietude, I bless thee,
my Salamanca!

On one side, beyond the slow river Tormes,
thou dos see the dark foliage of the trees,
which, like the foliage of thy stone, is motionless,
dense and perennial.

On the other side, by barren Armuña,
ripples that wheat that is gold like thy stone,
and as the evening dies, between the furrows
is sleeping peace.

Tranquillity sleeps and hope too is sleeping,
of other harvets and sweet afternoons
the hours leave their trace on the earth as
they hurry by.

At foot of thy blocks of stone, Salamanca,
sleeps the memory of the golden harvests
of tranquil thought that in thy halls grew ripe
year afger year.

Memory sleeps and hope too is sleeping,
while the course of life flows tranquility on
as slowly as the growing of thy trees,
slowly, securely.

Oh, Salamanca, midst thy golden stones
the students in their youth did learn of love,
whilst the sorrounding fields, that take thee in,
gave juicy fruit.

I keep thy vigorous soul in the depths
of may heart; oh my golden Salamanca,
keep thou then, when my last days shall have come
keep thou my memory.

And when the sun, as it sinks to its rest,
kindles the age olf gold that adorns thee,
in thy tongue of eternal herald tell
that I have been.