Paroles et traduction Lluís Llach - Ara mateix

Ara mateix

Ara mateix enfilo aquesta agulla
Amb el fil d′un propòsit que no dic
I em poso a apedaçar. Cap dels prodigis
Que anunciaven taumaturgs insignes
No s'ha complert, i els anys passen de pressa.
De res a poc, i sempre amb vent de cara,
Quin llarg camí d′angoixa i de silencis.
I som on som; més val saber-ho i dir-ho
I assentar els peus en terra i proclamar-nos
Hereus d'un temps de dubtes i renúncies
En què els sorolls ofeguen les paraules
I amb molts miralls mig estrafem la vida.
De res no ens val l'enyor o la complanta,
Ni el toc de displicent malenconia
Que ens posem per jersei o per corbata
Quan sortim al carrer. Tenim a penes
El que tenim i prou: l′espai d′història
Concreta que ens pertoca, i un minúscul
Territori per viure-la. Posem-nos
Dempeus altra vegada i que se senti
La veu de tots solemnement i clara.
Cridem qui som i que tothom ho escolti.
I en acabat, que cadascú es vesteixi
Com bonament li plagui, i via fora!,
Que tot està per fer i tot és possible
Possible.
Pensem-la clara aquesta quietud
Que escampa tants de ressons impensats;
Pensem-la clara i suggerent, que ens ompli
I'espai concret d′ara mateix, i'espai
En qué no hi ha cap mena de sorpresa
I′tot és vell, i trist, i necessari
Vam girar full temps ha, i alguns s'estenten
A llegir encara la mateixa plana
Potser el secret és que no hi ha secret
I aquest cami i′hem fet tantes vegades
Que ja ningú no se'n sorprén; potser
Caldria que trenquéssim la rutina
Fent algun gest desmesurat, alguna
Sublimitat que capgirés la história
Potser, també, del poc que tenim ara
No saben fer-ne i'ús que cal; qui sap!
¿Qui sonó tots -i cadascú per torna-podem
Crear ders d′aquest limits d′ara
L'ámbit de llum on tots els vents s′exaltin
L'espai de vent on tota veu ressoni?
Públicament ens compromet la vida
Públicament i amb tota llei d′indicis
Serem alló que vulguem ser
Debades fugim del foc si el foc ens justifica
Molt lentament giravolta la sinia
I passen anys, o segles, fins que i'aigua
S′enfila al cim més alt i, gloriosa
Proclama la claror per tots els ámbits
Molt lentament davallen aleshores
Els catúfols per recollir més aigua
Així s'escriu la história
Saber-ho no pot sobtar ni decebre ningú
Massa sovint girem els ulls encara
I el gest traeix angoixa i defallences
L'enyor, voraç, ens xucla la mirada
I eng gela el moll del sentiment
De totes les solituds, aquesta és la més fosca
La més feroç, i persistent, i amarga
Convé saber-ho i convé, d′altra banda
Pensar el futur lluminós i possible
Ni cap llevant luxuriós, ni cap ponent, ni cap ponent solemne
Més ens çal saber que no hi ha grans misteris
Ni un ocell d′ales immenses que ens empari;
Res d'alló que tants de cops han proclamat
Amb vue mesella foscos endevins
Posem la má damunt la má i els anys
Conferiran duresa a cada gest
Compartirem misteris i desigs
D′arrel molt noble i secreta, en l'espai
De temps que algú permetrá que visquem
Compartirem projectes i neguits
Plaers i dols amb dignitat extrema
L′aigua i la set, l'amor i el desamor
Tot aixó junt, i més, ha de donar-nos
L′aplom secret, la claredat volguda
Ni llocs ni noms ni espai suficient
Per replantar l'arbreda, ni cap riu
Que remunti el seu curs i ens alci el cos
Per damunt de l'oblit
Tots sabem bé que no hi ha camp obert per cap retorn
Que no hi ha camp obert per cap retorn
Ni solc en mar a l′hora del perill
Posem senyals de pedra pels camins
Senyals concrets, de fonda plenitud
En clau de temps i amb molt de patiment
Vet ací com podem guanyar el combat
Que de fa tant de temps lliurem, intrépids
En clau de temps i poster en solitud
Acumulant en cadascú la força
De tots plegats i projectant-la enfora
Solc rera solc per ma de cada dia
Pas rera pas amb voluntat d′aurora
Vam preservar del vent i de l'oblit
La integritat d′uns ámbits, d'uns projectes
En qué ens véiem tots junts créixer i combatre
I ara, ¿Quin fosc refús, quina peresa
Malmet l′impuls de renovada fúria
Que ens feia quasi delejar la lluita?
Del fons dels any, crida, barbullent
La llum d'un temps expectant i frondós
Convertirem els silencis en or
I els mots en foc
La pell d′aquest retorn acumula la pluja
I els afanys esborren privilegis
Lentament emergim del gran pou, here's amunt
I no pas a recer de cap malastre
Convertirem el vell dolor en amor
I el llegarem, solemnes, a la história
Convertirem el vell dolor en amor
I el llegarem, solemnes, a la história
Convertirem el vell dolor en amor
I el llegarem, solemnes, a la história

Right Now

Right now, I thread this needle
With the thread of a purpose I don't speak of
And I start to mend. None of the prodigies
That renowned miracle workers announced
Have come true, and the years pass quickly.
From nothing to little, and always facing the wind,
What a long road of anguish and silences.
And we are where we are; it's better to know it and say it
And set our feet on the ground and proclaim ourselves
Heirs of a time of doubts and renunciations
In which noises drown out the words
And with many mirrors we half-distort life.
Yearning or complaint are of no use to us,
Nor the touch of complacent melancholy
That we wear as a sweater or a tie
When we go out into the street. We barely have
What we have and that's enough: the space of history
Concrete that belongs to us, and a tiny
Territory to live it. Let's stand
Up again and let everyone hear
The voice of all solemnly and clearly.
Let's shout who we are and let everyone hear it.
And then, let everyone dress
As they please, and off we go!
Everything is yet to be done and everything is possible
Possible.
Let's think clearly about this stillness
That spreads so many unthought-of echoes;
Let's think of it clearly and suggestively, let it fill us
The concrete space of right now, the space
Where there is no surprise
And everything is old, and sad, and necessary
We turned the page long ago, and some still lie
To read the same page again
Maybe the secret is that there is no secret
And we have walked this path so many times
That no one is surprised anymore; maybe
We should break the routine
By making some excessive gesture, some
Sublimity that would turn history upside down
Maybe, also, from the little we have now
They don't know how to make the use of it that is needed; who knows!
Who are we all - and each in turn - can we
Create beyond these limits of now
The sphere of light where all winds exalt
The space of wind where every voice resonates?
Publicly life commits us
Publicly and with every law of evidence
We will be what we want to be
In vain we flee from fire if fire justifies us
Very slowly the waterwheel turns
And years, or centuries, pass until the water
Climbs to the highest peak and, glorious
Proclaims clarity in all areas
Very slowly then descend
The buckets to collect more water
This is how history is written
Knowing this should not surprise or disappoint anyone
Too often we still turn our eyes
And the gesture betrays anguish and weaknesses
Longing, voracious, sucks our gaze
And freezes the pier of feeling
Of all solitudes, this is the darkest
The most ferocious, and persistent, and bitter
It is good to know this and it is good, on the other hand
To think of the future as bright and possible
Neither a luxurious east, nor a west, nor a solemn west
We need to know that there are no great mysteries
Nor a bird with immense wings to shelter us;
None of what so many times has been proclaimed
With a honeyed voice by dark fortune tellers
Let's put our hand on our hand and the years
Will confer hardness to each gesture
We will share mysteries and desires
Of a very noble and secret root, in the space
Of time that someone will allow us to live
We will share projects and anxieties
Pleasures and sorrows with extreme dignity
Water and thirst, love and lack of love
All this together, and more, must give us
The secret aplomb, the desired clarity
Neither places nor names nor enough space
To replant the grove, nor any river
That goes back up its course and lifts our bodies
Above oblivion
We all know well that there is no open field for any return
That there is no open field for any return
Nor furrow at sea in the hour of danger
Let's put stone markers along the paths
Concrete signs, of deep fullness
In the key of time and with much suffering
This is how we can win the battle
That we have been waging for so long, intrepid
In the key of time and later in solitude
Accumulating in each one the strength
Of all together and projecting it outwards
Furrow after furrow by the hand of each day
Step by step with the will of dawn
We preserved from the wind and oblivion
The integrity of some areas, of some projects
In which we saw ourselves all growing and fighting together
And now, what dark refusal, what laziness
Damages the impulse of renewed fury
That made us almost desire the fight?
From the depths of the year, shouts, bubbling
The light of an expectant and leafy time
We will turn silences into gold
And words into fire
The skin of this return accumulates the rain
And the efforts erase privileges
Slowly we emerge from the great well, upwards
And not under the shelter of any disaster
We will turn the old pain into love
And we will bequeath it, solemnly, to history
We will turn the old pain into love
And we will bequeath it, solemnly, to history
We will turn the old pain into love
And we will bequeath it, solemnly, to history