Sí, m'acompanyen dofins de present
sentit de foc, i a les ones turquesa
esmaperdut, jo mateix si de flama,
cresta escumosa, salto com cetaci;
duna d'arena, canvio les ombres
segons el riure del còsmic diví.


La pirula

Ja massa vella i marcada de tinta
fosca, sortosa o artista d'enganys
magnètics, em demana cada dia
més risc, l'interventor, la policia.
I no en té prou amb l'honrosíssim salt

de qui comença a colar-se amb felina
agilitat, quan el cos li demana
emocions, menyspreant l'enganxina
neta—l'enginy del pirulaire digne
que només vol que acabi bé el viatge.



I’ve seen you
As a blue-lavender flower
Floating placidly
In an ancient eddy
Of spring runoff.
My benevolent, mossy roots surrounding
Your strength in beauty,
Our untold happiness of old,
Creating a circle of serene love,
Of wild growth,
Sunlight patches stroking
The subtle ripples
In everlasting motion.
This corner of the world
Belonged to us, long gone,
Recovered now, recognized.
Oh love through the ages,
Quiet flowing, peaceful
Joy in the meandering waves,
Let us sing and dance once more
Like we did when the world was unripe!



You pick a path, and suddenly, the choices
You held congeal into a moving ray
Determined by each point in space
Preceding its motion, eternally random
And gracious. This forward impulse
Becomes then its own reason, but really,
Only by looking back a pattern emerges
Out of the sweetly discrete stillness.
So the movement becomes meaning,
Unknowingly, unavoidably,
For how can we dare to stop for a second
And stare at the beauty all around us
When there's so much yet to accomplish?
But then, this goal-oriented approach
Only sort of makes sense when you take a sudden
Snapshot of it and declare it your happiness.
Or does it? In reality, the only bliss we can claim
Is that of this very instant, the moment of creation itself.
By then the moving laser is gone, piercing
The very fabric of our constant thoughts,
Unstoppable, freezing and sentient
As a bursting fountain of indomitable chaos.