Louis J. Rodrigues
englisch
Pel meu mirall, si vols, passen rares semblances
Davant el meu últim mirall, en veure’m
sencer, malalt, potser acabat,
potser damnat, tan pàl lid,
vaig dir molt lentament clares paraules
belles, fràgils, altes, les més nobles
que trobava en la foscor del meu record.
Des de sempre, però, allí hi havia
grasses, molles, llefiscoses bèsties,
que dels racons venien fins als llavis,
a rosegar-me els mots mentre naixien:
no sents encara la remor profunda
de pergamí, d’ossos trencats, de vidre?
I al mirall, entretant, es reflectia
a poc a poc una perversa imatge,
el signe de la qual podràs entendre,
si fas també, com jo, l’estranya prova
d’esguardar el teu bon fons, quasevol hora,
tot intentant de nou una impossible,
inútil creació per la paraula.
Aus: El caminant i el mur
Audioproduktion: Biblioteca Nacional de Catalunya
Strange forms, if you will, appear in my mirror
Before my final mirror, seeing myself
complete, ill, finished perhaps,
perhaps damned, pale,
I very slowly spoke clear words,
beautiful, fragile, lofty, the noblest
I found in the gloom of my memory.
But always, there have been
fat, soft, sticky beasts there,
that came from corners to the lips,
to nibble at my words as they took form:
don't you still hear the deep rustle
of parchment, broken bones, glass?
And in the mirror, meanwhile,
a perverse image slowly appeared,
whose sign you'll understand
if, at any time, like me, you also attempt
the strange feat of staring into your own depths,
attempting, once again, the impossible,
useless act of creation through the word.