Enric Casassas

índex | índice | navegació barcelona review #14

= Audio

Enric Casassas: Tal Tipus
English version: Such a Sort

o - onion o - cabbage

o - blackbird o - thrush

o - strength o - love

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índex

Cacau de mort
que treus la tos
sóc jo que vinc
rascaras calç
quan miris bé
tot un desert
per un perfum.

Tal Tipus

. .
O! mort que cau
cacau de mort
cendra subtil
on em vols dur?
sóc jo que vinc.

Rascaràs calç
amb les dents
a la paret
per consolar-te
quan miris bé. . .

. . No queda seda
no queda res
gran caminada
tot un desert
per un perfum.

Llavors a penes
pots agafar-te
quan tot s'esfuma
a les volutes
de dues veus. . .

. . L'una canta la vida
de mil maneres breus
i l'altra es precipita
l'abisme d'un lament
tal com ho sents.

De trenc a trencs
buscant la poesia
per llocs deserts
no l'he vist que em seguia
i no he vist res. .

. . Quin preu haig de pagar
per tal tipus de poesia?
la tecla de quina nyafra tocar
perquè s'esbatanin les portes
de la bogeria?

M'esborro de la llista deis humans
em faig foc flamejant d'interrogants
i salto
deixa'm que em mati
si no vois que et parteixi l'espinada! .

. . Amor no m'abandonis
perdut de tots
la mula cega
cega per sempre
no m'abandonis.

No endrecis amor meu
l'atònit meu amor
entre els records
que jo m'enteranyini
caçant moscots. .

© 1999 Enric Casassas

Aquesta obra no pot ser arxivada ni distribuïda sense el permís explícit de l´autor. Us preguem llegiu les condicions d'utilització

ENRIC CASASSAS
SUCH A SORT
translated from the Catalan by Sue Brownbridge

o - onion o - cabbage o - blackbird o - thrush o - strength o - love
.	index Dark dust of death that cures the cough Coming am I Scrape lime will you when you see true a desert wide for one perfume such a sort
.	.	O! death that durst dark dust of death subtle cinder where do you lead? coming am I.
Scrape lime will you from the wall with your teeth to console yourself when you see true	.	.
.	.	There's no silk left there's naught at all protracted path a desert wide for one perfume..
And barely then can you hold on when everything fades at the volutes of two voices	.	.
.	.	One of them sings about life in a thousand brief fashions and the other hurtles on the chasm of a lament as you hear it.
From cleft to clefts searching on for poetry through empty sites I saw not what was following me and I saw naught.		.
.	.	What's the price I must pay for such a sort of poetry? what subject of which wound should I touch on for the doors of the madhouse to throw themselves gaping open?
I blot myself from the list of humans I make myself a fire flaming with questions and I leap let me kill myself if you don't want me to break your backbone!		.
.	.	Love do not abandon me adrift from all the unseeing mule sightless for ever abandon me not.
Do not tidy away my love the amazed love of mine among the memories let me shroud me in a web while hunting flies.		.