Clyde Moneyhun
english
Ventada
Però encara no és passada,
Oh cor meu!
Ha vingut escabellada,
Tota urc.
Per la força –ai com crida!–
Se m’enduu;
Sense alè, atemorida,
Menjo pols.
L’amistat arremolina
–bo i dolent;
Res d’amiga ni veïna
Ni cel blau.
Només l’ombra que no em deixa
Dintre els ulls;
Em debato amb mi mateixa
I em faig mal.
La ventada té cobertes
Multituds:
Com un camp li són ofertes,
–tristes flors!
I esgarrifa la dallada
Que va fent
Amb la Mort aparellada:
Quanta sang!
From: Sempre i ara
Audio production: Library of Congress, Washington
Windstorm
But it´s not yet over,
oh my heart!
It has arrived disheveled,
arrogance complete.
By brute force—how it howls!—
it carries me away;
out of breath, frightened,
I choke on dust.
Amity is driven away
—good and bad;
no friends or neighbors,
no blue sky.
Nothing but shadow
is left in my eyes;
I struggle with myself
and do myself harm.
The windstorm has swept over
multitudes:
offerings in an open field
—pitiful flowers!
And terrifying is
the scythe that works
mated with Death
—so much blood!