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| Locronan. Fotografia: Empar Sáez |
Abandonat
¿On havia sentit mai aquest vent
canviar talment en un rugit pregon?
¿Per qui em devia prendre, dret allí,
subjectant l'excitada porta oberta
i fitant l'escumosa platja al fons?
S'havien acabat, dia i estiu.
S'alçaven núvols foscos a ponent.
A fora, a l'esfondrat terra del pati,
un remolí de fulles em xiulava,
m'escometia... i fallava el cop.
En el to, alguna cosa de sinistre
deia que el meu secret era sabut:
que jo m'estava tot sol a la casa
degué escampar-se, no sé pas com;
que jo m'estava tot sol a la vida,
que no tenia sinó Déu, i prou.
Robert Frost, Gebre i sol
Traducció de Josep Maria Jaumà
***
Bereft
Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar?
What would it take my standing there for,
Holding open a restive door,
Looking downhill to a frothy shore?
Summer was past and the day was past.
Somber clouds in the west were massed.
Out on the porch's sagging floor,
Leaves got up in a coil and hissed,
Blindly struck at my knee and missed.
Something sinister in the tone
Told me my secret must be known:
Word I was in the house alone
Somehow must have gotten abroad,
Word I was in my life alone,
Word I had no one left but God.
Robert Frost, West running brook
