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FRANCESC PARCERISAS (born 1944)
-
- ON A DAY LIKE THIS
(Translation by Sam Abrams)
- For hours he's paced up and down
- trapped in his own room.
- He would like to know what words
- to use to set that memory down,
- yet it's so hard for him to find them
- that he's amassed a heap of crumpled papers.
- Now he stops close by the window
- and lights a cigarette.
- It's summer, the afternoon is muggy,
- bustle and shrill cries come to him off the streets.
- Perhaps it was a day like this
- that marked the onset of what has led him
- to where he finds himself: an empty room.
- Perhaps it was a day like this
- that marked the onset of what keeps him
- disturbingly alive: the memory of her.
- Even the smells seem the same.
- Once again he takes a seat and struggles with words,
- and it's almost as if he had her by his side,
- as if he heard her laughing between the sheets.
- Yet as he writes and regains her
- he knows the afternoon is sliding away,
- that this day as well as its counterpart from the past,
- once the night that has just begun is over,
- will both share the same relentless fate.
- PORTRAIT OF THE POET
(Translation by Sam Abrams)
- The wind howls, the water is frozen thick
- in the pipes, it is snowing.
- For hours it has been dark
- and icicles taper downwards
- from the eaves.
- Ah, how good it is to close your book,
- snuff out the candle that flickers on the table
- and, in the light afforded by the fireplace,
- curl up in bed, without making a sound,
- not to awaken this youthful body
- that lies, in all its purity, fast asleep.
- Now, buried under the blankets, close
- your eyes and in your mind re-enact this day
- not so different from all others.
- Savor this tiny moment of enjoyment
- that makes everything worthwhile, as you lay your hand
- upon this sighing breast, deep in sleep,
- its face lost among the soft flowing strands of hair.
- Will it be this way, death?
- Welcome like this drowsiness that overtakes you,
- this sensation of utter mildness, devoid of reproach and grievance,
- grateful alone for the incommensurable gifts of life?
- Will it be like this that on our way to darkness
- we will meet with light?