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Versuri originale
La relíquia
Faune mutilat,
brollador eixut,
jardí desolat
de ma joventut...
Beneïda l'hora
que m'ha duit aquí.
La font que no vessa, la font que no plora
me fa plorar a mi.
Sembla que era ahir
que dins el misteri de l'ombra florida,
tombats a la molsa,
passàvem les hores millors de la vida.
De l'aigua sentíem la música dolça;
dintre la piscina guaitàvem els peixos,
collíem poncelles, caçàvem bestioles,
i ens féiem esqueixos
muntant a la branca de les atzeroles.
Ningú sap com era
que entre l'esponera
de l'hort senyorívol,
fent-lo més ombrívol,
creixia la rama d'antiga olivera.
Arbre centenari,
amorós pontava la soca torçuda,
perquè sense ajuda
poguéssim pujar-hi.
Al forc de la branca senyora i majora
penjàvem la corda de l'engronsadora,
ii, venta qui venta,
folgàvem i réiem fins que la vesprada
la llum esvaïa de l'hora roenta,
de l'hora encantada.
Somni semblaria
el temps que ha volat
de la vida mia,
sense les ferides que al cor ha deixat;
sense les ferides que es tornen a obrir
quan veig que no vessa
ni canta ni plora la font del jardí.
Trenta anys de ma vida volaren depressa,
i encara no manca,
penjat a la branca,
un tros de la corda de l'engronsadora,
com trista penyora,
despulla podrida d'un món esbucat...
Faune mutilat,
brollador eixut,
jardí desolat
de ma joventut.
Postat de 
Fool Emeritus la 2019-01-31
Fool Emeritus la 2019-01-31Ultima oară editat de 
Metodius în data 2019-04-21
Metodius în data 2019-04-21Traducere
The Relic
Mutilated Faun
dry fountain
ravaged garden
of my youth...
Blessed be the hour
that brought me here
the fountain that does not flow, the fountain that does not cry
makes me cry.
Seems it was yesterday
that under the mystery of the flowery shade
lying in the moss
the best hours of life passed us by.
We felt the sweet music of the water
and watched the fish in the pool.
we picked up buds, we hunted little animals
and we got scrapes
climbing atop the branches of the acerole trees.
No one knows how it was
that delving in the lushness
of the lordly orchard
making it more sombre
grew the branch of the ancient olive tree.
Centennial tree,
lovingly offered the crooked branch
so we could climb without an effort.
To the might of the biggest and strongest branch
hung the rope from the swing.
And, turn upon turn
we played and laughed until the late hour
the dim light of the last hour of day
of the hour of magic.
It'd seem like a dream,
the time that has flown
out of my life.
Without the wound it has left on the heart
without the wounds that open again
when I see that the fountain in the garden
does not flow
or sings or cries.
Thirty years of my life went by quickly
and still hungs there,
fastened to the branch
a piece of rope from the swing
like a sad relic,
rotten debris of a crumbled world.
Mutilated Faun,
dry fountain
ravaged garden
of my youth.
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Maria del Mar Bonet: Top 3
| 1. | La dama d'Aragó |
| 2. | La balanguera |
| 3. | Què volen aquesta gent |
Comentarii
Russia is waging a disgraceful war on Ukraine. Stai cu Ucraina!
Despre traducător
Sung version of the homonimous poem by Joan Alcover