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!