It's all I have to bring today
Emily Dickinson
It's all I have to bring today –
This, and my heart beside –
This, and my heart, and all the fields –
And all the meadows wide –
Be sure you count – should I forget
Some one the sum could tell –
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.
Com és que de vegades costa tant dir el que portem dins? De qui cal amagar-se? I en canvi, "be sure you count"...enfoquem el discurs cap a l'altre, perquè sempre necessitem aquest ALTRE que ens escolti, ens entengui i, qui sap, senti com alguna cosa remou els sentiments.
29/10/08
25/10/08
MOMENTS
LOVE POEMS, XII Adrienne Rich
Sleeping, turning in turn like planets
rotating in their midnight meadow:
a touch is enough to let us know
we're not alone in the universe, even in sleep:
the dream -ghosts of two worlds
walking their ghost-towns, almost address each other.
I've walked to your muttered words
spoken light -or dark- years away,
as if my own voice had spoken.
But we have different voices, even in sleep,
and our bodies, so alike, are yet so different
and the past echoing through our bloodstreams
is freighted with different language, different meanings -
through in any chronicle of the world we share
it could be written with new meaning
we were two lovers of one gender,
we were two women of one generation.
El jo intentant comprendre's a través d'un tu tan difuminat com un somni, el passat i el present agafats de la mà, però parlant un llenguatge diferent per a cadascú, per a cada ideologia. Tot i amb això, no estem pas sols, hi ha possibilitats d'escriure les coses amb un nou significat. Sense amagar res, sense necessitat d'explicar res. Perquè és així mateix, sense explicacions, que els planetes van giravoltant de nit pels camins del cel.
Sleeping, turning in turn like planets
rotating in their midnight meadow:
a touch is enough to let us know
we're not alone in the universe, even in sleep:
the dream -ghosts of two worlds
walking their ghost-towns, almost address each other.
I've walked to your muttered words
spoken light -or dark- years away,
as if my own voice had spoken.
But we have different voices, even in sleep,
and our bodies, so alike, are yet so different
and the past echoing through our bloodstreams
is freighted with different language, different meanings -
through in any chronicle of the world we share
it could be written with new meaning
we were two lovers of one gender,
we were two women of one generation.
El jo intentant comprendre's a través d'un tu tan difuminat com un somni, el passat i el present agafats de la mà, però parlant un llenguatge diferent per a cadascú, per a cada ideologia. Tot i amb això, no estem pas sols, hi ha possibilitats d'escriure les coses amb un nou significat. Sense amagar res, sense necessitat d'explicar res. Perquè és així mateix, sense explicacions, que els planetes van giravoltant de nit pels camins del cel.
22/10/08
DREAMS
Hold fast to dreams
for if dreams die,
life is a broken-winged bird
that cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
for when dreams go
life is a barren field
frozen with snow.
Langston Hughes
Un poema ben senzill que no et dóna opció. O somies, o et mors.
I com que et mors igualment, més val fer-ho somiant. O què?
for if dreams die,
life is a broken-winged bird
that cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
for when dreams go
life is a barren field
frozen with snow.
Langston Hughes
Un poema ben senzill que no et dóna opció. O somies, o et mors.
I com que et mors igualment, més val fer-ho somiant. O què?
18/10/08
i continuem amb la Dickinson
Wild nights - Wild nights!
were I with thee
Wild nights should be
our luxury!
Futile -the winds-
To a heart in port-
Done with the compass-
Done with the chart!
Rowing in Eden-
Ah, the sea!
Might I but moor -tonight-
in Thee!
El temps no passa. Espera pacient i ens deixa bocabadats davant les mateixes meravelles. Ja siguin vistes per primer cop, o no. Quantes coses no dites amb paraules arriben a bon port? Quantes, ni pensades, han solcat aigües més o menys tranquil.les?...i quantes esperen, pacients, el dia en què tu mirant el mar, somriguis davant l'onada riallera que et vindrà a buscar?
were I with thee
Wild nights should be
our luxury!
Futile -the winds-
To a heart in port-
Done with the compass-
Done with the chart!
Rowing in Eden-
Ah, the sea!
Might I but moor -tonight-
in Thee!
El temps no passa. Espera pacient i ens deixa bocabadats davant les mateixes meravelles. Ja siguin vistes per primer cop, o no. Quantes coses no dites amb paraules arriben a bon port? Quantes, ni pensades, han solcat aigües més o menys tranquil.les?...i quantes esperen, pacients, el dia en què tu mirant el mar, somriguis davant l'onada riallera que et vindrà a buscar?
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