Poucos terán boas lembranzas do ano que se foi, porque escomenzou mal e non poido acabar pior. O inverno foi crúo, a primadeira esmorecida e chuviosa, o vrau abafante, o outono desleigado. Día por día pasáro-no contando os seus traballos e coitas os labregos, agardando pola súa redención os que viven escravos dos caciques d'aldea, pensando na súa terriña os emigrantes que morren lonxe dela, aduanando falcatruadas os que trunfan e medran á conta dos máis
Few people will have good memories of last year, because it started badly and couldn't have ended worse: winter was harsh, spring rainy and faint, summer stifling, autumn sloppy. Day after day, the peasant spent their time telling about their troubles and disgraces, waiting for their redemption the ones who live enslaved by the village's richmen, longing their land the emigrants who die far away from her, plotting frauds those who triumph and grow at the expense of others.
