Louis J. Rodrigues
الانجليزية
Amb música ho escoltaries potser millor
Et diré sempre la veritat.
I si et parlo tan sovint de la meva
quotidiana, solitària mort,
i amb cruel accent carrego
aquesta única síl·laba
del meu petit saber,
és sols perquè m’agradaria que sentissis
dintre teu, ben endins, on acaba
el fred camí al teu darrer sepulcre,
com humilment, silenciós,
t’estimo.
Veus? El suau vent a l’herba,
i tu i jo, una dona i un home,
i tots els noms de tan fràgil bellesa,
i aquesta tarda per a nosaltres
potser immortal.
Però no vols endevinar mai als meus ulls
qui soc jo, com soc jo i ara m’omples
de buida, densa, sorollosa
argila de paraules,
fins a fer-ne un insalvable mur,
aquest curt pas
que ja del tot em separa
de tu.
من: El caminant i el mur
الإنتاج المسموع: Biblioteca Nacional de Catalunya
With music perhaps you'll hear it better
I'll tell you the truth always.
And if I speak so often of my
daily, solitary death,
and with cruel accent charge
this single syllable
of my little learning,
it's only because it'd please me that you feel
within you, deep down, when
the cold way to your last resting-place is reached,
how humbly, hushed,
I love you.
See? The gentle wind upon the grass,
and you and I, one woman and one man,
and all the names for such frail loveliness,
and this afternoon by ourselves
perhaps immortal.
But you wouldn't guess, from my eyes,
who I am, how I am I; and, now you fill me
with empty, dense, loud
words of clay
until an insuperable wall is built,
this short step
that already severs me entirely
from you.