Where are the minds that once cared for me?
They nursed me more than they nursed themselves.
Some years ago, they went away
to the earth of the landscape.
If they became earth, how could they love me?
How could they be a pure and steadfast wish?
If they were thought, how could they die?
The will remains, the matter fades away.
When the wind blows, I think of them
as if they were the air that drifts away,
and their hearts spoke with a silent voice
around my skin, wakeful and near.
Once they held a whole world inside,
they stood as strong and tall as trees.
I was their heritage, their dream,
but one day they turned to ground.
I can’t understand how the thrill
can rise or die from dust of stars.
Where is the thrill when body passes?
And when the fire fizzles out,
and stars grow dark in the coldest night,
where are the minds that once loved me?
J. S.
La traducció, no literal, que intenta mantenir un ritme, i l'esperit del poema:
A on són les ments que em van guardar?
On són les ments que ahir em guardaren?
Que m'acolliren més que a elles?
Fa molts anys ja, se’n van anar,
dins de la terra del paisatge.
Si es van fer llot, com m'estimaren?
Sent un desig, tan poderós?
Si eren raó, com van morir?
Roman l'alè, el fang se'n va.
Quan bufa el vent, me n'en recordo,
foren com l’aire que ha marxat,
els cors cantant, amb veu silent
ran de la pell, desperts i a frec.
Varen tenir, el mon dins seu;
foren tan grans, com els xiprers.
Jo era l'hereu, del seu esforç;
se'n van anar, no entenc a on.
Com pot, la vida, tremolar,
néixer o morir, el sucre d'estels,
el nervi ardent, si el jo es desfà?
I quan el foc viu, ja no hi és
i els estels moren dins la nit,
on són les ments que em van guardar?
J.S.
