Douglas Suttle
english
Mà de noia
Quan tu te’n vas,
me deixes la mà tan morta
i tan sola, que me cau.
Blai Bonet
Durant molts anys vaig témer aquelles mans.
Es rabejaven sota la canella,
i una, balmada, es feia una escudella
si jo tenia set —les seves mans
que tant vaig estimar!—. Eren amants
la meva esquerra i la mà dreta d’ella.
Semblaven fetes de pell de parpella,
les seves mans de noia, sense guants.
Quan jo estava enfebrat, ella em posava
la mà damunt el front i, maternal,
l’hi deixava un instant; i era un regal
sentir al llit, en la fosca, que em palpava
—dits ensonyats— per saber-me a frec seu.
Aquella mà es va fer per dir-me adéu.
3i4 Edicions, 2014
Audio production: Radio Vilafranca
A Girl’s Hand
When you go,
you leave my hand so dead
and so alone, that from me it falls.
Blai Bonet
I worried about these hands for many years.
They were soaked under the tap,
and one, empty, made an escudella
if I was thirsty - her hands
oh how I loved them! -. They were lovers
my left hand and her right.
As if made from eyelid skin,
her gloveless, girlish hands.
When I had fever, she would put
her hand on my forehead and, motheringly,
she would leave it there for a moment; it was a gift
to feel in the darkness in bed, caressing me
- sleepy fingers - to know I was by her side.
This hand was made to bid me farewell.