Anna Crowe
angleščina
Desbordament
El líquid és de fang, dens com la sang, i dur
cadires, teules, arbres i una motocicleta.
Baixa a la rauxa com un brau embolat
pel carrer principal d’una vila on havies viscut
temps normals: una esposa, i uns fills, l'estofat
de patates i el tedi de les tardes.
¿Qui ha fet aquest beuratge fosc que ara s'aboca
com menjar que ha sobrat, al wàter?
¿Qui és el cuiner maldestre que ha trinxat, sofregit, macerat
per llençar el contingut de la cassola pels aiguavessants?
A la frase “El pont per on passem” el temps verbal
és incorrecte per partida doble: ni el pont ni tu no hi sou.
“Tu ets el més important” és una mostra més
de la impotència de l’idioma: ha d'acabar amb un punt.
El dia del teu aniversari duies caramels tous
pels companys de l’escola. Sembla que els repartires
amb massa lentitud: se’t llençaren a sobre i et
trencaren la bata.
Sempre el mateix error: demanar que plogués.
¿Vols sopa? – Teniu! Allà, lluny del meu cor
els caramels de melsa. Ajupiu-vos, soldeu les vostres dents
amb l'instant i la fressa!
Deixeu-me que rastregi els records d'entre les hores i
la runa.
Iz: Petrolier
València: Denes, 2003
Avdio produkcija: Instituto Ramon Llull
Overflow
The liquid is made of mud, as dense as blood, and carries along
chairs, tables, trees and a moped.
Like one of those bulls with knobs on its horns, it rushes unpredictably
down the main street of a town where you lived
when times were normal: a wife and children, potato
stew and the boredom of afternoons.
Who is responsible for this dark brew that backs up
like left-overs, in the toilet-bowl?
Who is the clumsy cook who has chopped and fried and mashed
in order to chuck the entire potful on to the hillside?
In the phrase, “the bridge you cross”, the tense of the verb
is wrong on two counts: neither the bridge nor you is present.
“You are the most important one” is yet another example
of the feebleness of language: it should end with a full-stop.
On your birthday you took some toffees
into school for your friends. It seems you were doling them out
too slowly: they threw themselves upon you and
tore your school pinafore.
Always the same mistake: ask for rain.
You want some soup?—Have it! Here, this sweetie-jar
has nothing to do with my heart. Crawl about on the floor, cement
your teeth together with that moment and its clamour.
Let me pick the memories from out of the hours and
the rubble.