Right now I’m threading a needle
with this yarn of a purpose I suppress,
and which I’m beginning to mend. None of the wonders
eminent magicians had announced
has come to pass, and the years go by quickly.
From nought to little, always against the wind,
what a long course of anguish and silences.
And we are where we are; better to know and say so,
and to place our feet on the ground and proclaim ourselves
the heirs of an era of doubt and renunciation,
when noise drowns out the words
and with many a mirror we half-imitate life.
Neither reminiscing nor complaining is any good,
nor is the off-handed stroke of melancholy
we put on, like a jumper or a necktie,
whenever we go out into the streets. We barely have
what we own, and that’s enough: the space of specific
history we have been given and a minuscule
territory where we enact it. Let us stand up
once again and let the voice of all of us
be heard, solemnly, clearly.
Let us shout out who we are: let everyone listen!
And, once we are finished, let each and every one
put on whatever clothes they fancy, and go outside,
for everything still needs to be done, and everything is possible.
(from L’àmbit de tots els àmbits)
English version by J. Salavert, 2014.
The original in Catalan, together with a Spanish version,