MEMORIES OF A TRIP

 

Sometimes we say: our land.

chosen Words, then,

words of crest -  not those of every

day: work, table, spoon -,

crispy and warm words

that caress the jingle of the conversation:

words

for our good use of patriots.

And we smile, very accomplices.

Listen: I've seen rain

ON the roofs of the town; I've seen streets

with mud, breakdowns; a Saturday

cinema with armpit stink,

sadness of tiredness and clouds days,

sheltered at dusk

of the high Besalú, town of counts.

I have seen the old gold of the Priorat; the slow

plains of the Ebro

river and blood color; the hard dramatic

silence of Gandesa; the devastated misery

of the famous Morella.

I have seen some men

of agitated blood,

humiliated bones  beyond the centuries;

Men with eyes like knives

to stitch the bitter sky.

These men

never say: our land,

because they are

our land

Then

I have remembered some furious cliffs;

the light of the pinewood; the mountains of the island;

the velvety flaire

from Romanes of Formentor.

They are, too,

our land

First published in Papeles de Son Armadams «Memòria d'un viatge», later in La terra d'Argensa, 1959

Translated by Carlota Oliva.

(Palma, 1925 – Palma, 1993). Josep Maria Llompart was a critic and poet. He promoted cultural initiatives and championed the Catalan language. He collaborated with Papeles de Son Armadans, he worked for the publishing house Moll as well as being part of the Generation of the 1950s. Among his works are Poemes de Mondragó (1961), Memòries i confessions d´un adolescent de casa bona (1974) and Jerusalem (1990). He also published works as a critic and literary historian.