de "NABÍ"from "NABÍ"
Josep Carnertr. J.L.Gili (from Catalan)
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............
Un temps, Iahvè, no fou la meva nit opresa
ni jo tirat de sobte a cada estrany camí.
Tenia el meu ofici: cap a la tasca apresa
em decantava l'oratjol cada matí.
Vivia en mon poblet, ran de boscatge;
i m'hi gruava el companatge
pensant si compraria la vinya del coster.
En havent-hi bastit cercaria muller
i, en la nit gomboldat, plantaria llinatge.
(És bo que l'home tingui un lloc
i que, quan torni de la treballada,
s'assegui en el llindar i esguardi l'estelada,
i que la dona, que s'atansa a poc a poc,
digui, feixuga: "D'haver nat estic pagada".)

Una vegada
passà un miseriós al meu enfront -
barba i cabells guarnits de polseguera
i un trèmul dit amenaçant el món.
Veia i cridava, però ell no hi era,
ni en els seus ulls ni en l'abrandada veu.
El voltaven minyons fent-ne riota.
"La branca el tusta; per fangueres trota".
"Odre de vi, ¿de quin celler torneu?"
I d'una pedra el va ferir la punta
i ell no es temia de son cap sagnant:
pel viu de llum que cel i terra ajunta
anava ple de Déu tomballejant.
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............
............
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Time was, Jehovah, when my night was not oppressed,
neither was I drawn abruptly to every unexpected path.
I had my job; towards my known skills
I was quietly pushed each day by the morning breeze.
I lived in my village, close to the woods;
and craved for the comforting thought
of buying the vineyard on the hill-side.
Having established myself I would search for a wife
and, under shelter of night, I would sow progeny.
(It is good for a man to have a home
so that on returning from his labours,
he can sit on the threshold star-gazing,
while his wife gently draws near and says
huskily: "I'm grateful to have been born".)

One day
a destitute man crossed my path,
beard and hair decked with dust,
and with a trembling finger threatening the world;
seeing and shouting, yet not existing,
neither in his eyes nor in his ardent voice.
Mockíng youths surrounded him:
"The branch hits him; he rushes about in the mud."
"Wineskin, from what cellar do you come?"
A sharp stone hit him on the head,
and he disregarded the bleeding:
along the ribbon of light that bridges heaven
and earth, staggering he went on, full of God.
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............

Copyright © Hereus de Josep Carner 1998 & Ediciones 62, Barcelona 1998; Trans. Copyright © J.F., M.L and K.M.Gili 2001
- publ. Anvil Press


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