Dear D.
I want to read you a poem by a poet I didn't know until a few days ago.
The poem has been haunting me these days, and I thought that maybe it meant something. In any case, I thought that it might be a good opportunity to share it with you tonight, Christmas Eve, now that the house is quiet and mine are asleep.
It is “Wild Geese”, a beautiful poem by Mary Oliver. In Spain, her poetry is barely translated. I'll read it to you in my broken English, my apologies.
Have a good night,
Víctor
OQUES SALVAGES
No cal que siguis bona.
No cal caminar de genolls
centenars de kilòmetres pel desert, penedint-te.
Només has de deixar que l’animal suau del teu cos
estimi el que estima.
Parla’m de la desesperació, la teva, i et diré la meva.
Mentrestant el món continua.
Mentrestant el sol i els còdols clars de la pluja
es mouen pels paisatges,
sobre les prades i les arbredes profundes,
les muntanyes i els rius.
Mentrestant, les oques salvatges, enlaire, en l'aire blau i net,
tornen a casa.
Siguis qui siguis, per sola que estiguis,
el món s’ofereix a la teva imaginació,
et crida com les oques salvatges, aspre i excitant,
una vegada i una altra anunciant el teu lloc
en la família de les coses.
Mary Oliver
WILD GEESE You do not have to be good / You do not have to walk on your knees / for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. / You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. / Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. / Meanwhile the world goes on./ Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain / are moving across the landscapes, / over the prairies and the deep trees, / the mountains and the rivers. / Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, / are heading home again. / Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, / the world offers itself to your imagination, / calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting- /over and over announcing your place / in the family of things.
Mary Oliver, del llibre “Dream work”, Athlantic Monthly Press, Nova York, 1986.
- o -
El poema em va rondar durant dies, primer en la forma d’una versió de
Jonio González, publicada al seu mur de Facebook –un calaix ple de miracles–, i que enllaço a continuació, després en una de Sara Torres publicada a la revista Alga.
En català, Mary Oliver ha estat traduïda per Corina Oproae, i el seu llibre , “L’ocell roig”, publicat per Godall.
