Pistes

Sempre s’estima igual però diferent, em deies.
I ara entre el cafè i jo provem d’endevinar
si ens condemnava allò que era igual
o bé la diferència és la culpable.
L’amargor com una pista em porta a tu,
que ets a la cuina i amb la cullera dissols
el sucre que ja no em despertarà.
Del teu gest no es desprèn una resposta,
tan sols l’indici d’una pèrdua. Fixa’t:
Jo no tinc ales perquè els omòplats
tornen a ser omòplats si tu no els mires.
I tu que no tens esma per volar.
De tan a prop del terra, ja no caurem.
I estimar és caure.

© Mireia Calafell
From: Costures
Audio production: Catalunya Ràdio

Hints

All that you love, you love equally but in different ways
you used to say,
and now, between me and the coffee we are trying to guess
if we have been punished by this even-handedness,
or if it’s difference that is to blame.
Bitterness, as a hint, brings me to you
there in the kitchen, where you are spooning in
sugar that will not wake me anymore.
There are no answers in your gestures,
only the evidence of loss. Look —
I no longer have wings, my shoulderblades
no more than shoulderblades if you do not look on them.
You have lost the will to fly.
This close to the ground we cannot fall —
and to love, after all, is to fall.

Translated by Theo Dorgan.