Morning Sun, 1952
One fine day you fix your eyes
on someone and think:
this person has a past.
She has, without doubt, just as she has a future,
but you can't discern the past or future
that make her up. The future is a germ
in its latent state and for this reason
can't be seen. The past took place long ago
and for this reason is diluted, hidden
by distorting whirlpools.
A young woman is at home
sitting up in bed, looking
out the window. The sun,
strong as it is, sets ablaze the exterior
furnishing the bedroom with natural light,
levantine light, which takes possession
of every corner like lava.
At times, as if extracted from underground,
fragments of the previous world well up
into her mind and strive to return,
unshakable proof of a former life,
not completely scarred over,
sheathed in a coat of mail
to enable the germination
of a life possessed by a new intellect.
She knows she follows some order
and does what she has to do.
Without steps backward and forward,
without setbacks and comebacks,
we'd be invisible
like anger or memories.
To me it's neither here nor there
but yes, I do find
you have to follow some order
and not daydream one iota.
(Text of the poem in the original Catalan)
Copyright © 2006 by Ernest Farrés
Translation copyright © 2009 by Lawrence Venuti
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission