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| Dunvegan. Fotografia: Empar Sáez |
La casa era silenciosa i el món tranquil.
El lector esdevenia el llibre; i la nit d'estiu
era com l'ésser conscient del llibre.
La casa era silenciosa i el món tranquil.
Els mots eren dits com si el llibre no existís,
llevat que el lector s'inclinava damunt la pàgina,
volia inclinar-se, volia moltíssim ser
l'estudiós per a qui aquest llibre és veritat, per a qui
la nit d'estiu és com la perfecció del pensament.
La casa era silenciosa perquè ho havia d'estar.
El silenci era part del sentit, part de la ment;
l'accés de la perfecció a la pàgina.
I el món estava tranquil. La veritat en un món tranquil,
en el qual no hi ha cap altre sentit, ell mateix
és tranquil, ell mateix estiu i nit, ell mateix
el lector que s'inclina, ja tard, i està llegint.
Wallace Stevens, poema dins: Paraula i silenci. Àlbum Versàlia Núm.3
Versió de Francesc Parcerisas
Quaderns de Versàlia, 2023.
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THE HOUSE WAS QUIET AND THE WORLD WAS CALM
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night
Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,
Wanted to lean, wanted much most to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.
The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.
And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself
Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.
Wallace Stevens, The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens (1954)
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night
Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,
Wanted to lean, wanted much most to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.
The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.
And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself
Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.
Wallace Stevens, The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens (1954)
