FESTA MAJOR

“Controla la teva rebel·lia”, et recomanen,
i tu ho escoltes,
ho processes
i ho arxives
amb indiferència absoluta.

Hi ha dos mons:
el d'ells i el teu.
Ells manen
i et col·loquen la seva legió d’experts:
pedagogs per reeducar-te,
psicòlegs per analitzar el teu comportament
i fins i tot psiquiatres de ganyotes paralitzants
que van trepanar els cervells dels teus germans grans.
“Controla la teva rebel·lia”, en això coincideixen
mentre intenten projectar el seu infern
per a ments poc inquietes:
no juguis,
no fotis al veí
--i menys a la veïna—,
folla amb condó,
no consumeixis les drogues,
que no et venguin ells,
respecta els manaments de la religió laica,
no qüestionis la propietat privada
i, sobretot, controla la teva rebel·lia,
pot resultat incòmoda
per a qui no comparteixi el teu sentit de l'humor
canviant i poc fet a la simpatia.

Ja fora, quan els hagis enganyat
o hagis dissimulat el fàstic davant les seves trampes,
acull el permís de cap de setmana com si fos l'últim:
disfruta de tu mateix,
brinda per tenir sang a les venes
i la moral encara no rossegada per les rates.
No et preocupis ni cinc minuts pel futur
abans de dir-li al plaer
que entri per la porta que vulgui.

No controlis la teva rebel·lia,
no controlis la teva rebel·lia,
no controlis la teva rebel·lia,
prega a la irreverent rossa
després de besar-la:
“No et demanaré amor,
o potser sí.
Deixa-m'ho pensar”.

© David Castillo
From: Downtown
Barcelona: Icaria, 2005
Audio production: Institut Ramon Llull

Major Feast Day

“Curb your rebelliousness,” is their advice,
and you listen to it,
you take it in
and you file it away
with complete indifference.

There are two worlds:
theirs and yours.
They give the orders
and pigeon-hole you with their legion of experts:
pedagogues to re-educate you,
psychologists to analyse your behaviour
even psychiatrists whose grimaces scare you rigid
who trepanned the brains of your older siblings.
“Curb your rebelliousness”, in that they all concur
while they try to project their hell
for carefree minds:
stop playing,
don’t bugger up the man next-door—
and especially not the woman next-door—,
fuck with a condom,
don’t take drugs,
unless it’s ones sold by them,
respect the commands of the lay religion,
don’t challenge private property
and, above all, curb your rebelliousness,
it can turn out to be inconvenient
for anyone who doesn’t share your changeable sense
of humour that doesn’t lend itself to sympathy.

Once outside the house, when you’ve duped them
or concealed your disgust at their deceits,
welcome the licence of the weekend as though it were your last:
enjoy yourself,
raise a glass to that blood in your veins
and to morale not yet gnawed away by the rats.
Don’t waste even five minutes on worrying about the future
before inviting pleasure
to come in by whatever door it chooses.

Do not curb your rebelliousness,
Do not curb your rebelliousness,
Do not curb your rebelliousness,
tell that cheeky blonde
after you’ve kissed her:
“I shan’t ask you for love,
or maybe I will.
Let me think about it.”

Translated into English by Anna Crowe