Nosaltres sabíem
d'un únic senyor
i vèiem com
esdevenia
gos.
Envilit pel ventre,
per l'afalac al ventre,
per la por,
s'ajup sota el fuet
amb foll oblit
de la raó
que té.
Arnat, menjat
de plagues,
aquest trist
número de baratilli,
saldo al circ
de la mort,
sense parar llepava
l'aspra mà
que l'ha fermat
des de tant temps
al fang.
Li hauria estat
senzill de fer
del seu silenci mur
impenetrable, altíssim:
va triar
la gran vergonya mansa
dels lladrucs.
Mai no hem pogut,
però, desesperar
del vell vençut
i elevem en la nit
un cant a crits,
car les paraules vessen
de sentit.
L'aigua, la terra,
l'aire, el foc
són seus,
si s'arrisca d'un cop
a ser qui és.
Caldrà que digui
de seguida prou,
que vulgui ara
caminar de nou,
alçat, sense repòs,
per sempre més
home salvat en poble,
contra el vent.
Salvat en poble,
ja l'amo de tot,
no gos mesell,
sinó l'únic senyor.
We knew
of a single master
and watched as he
became
a dog.
Debased by the belly,
by the pampering of the belly,
by fear,
he cringes beneath the whip,
madly forgetting
the reason
he possesses.
Moth-eaten, consumed
by vermin,
this sad
cheap sideshow act,
a bargain-bin item in the circus
of death-
ceaselessly he licked
the rough hand
that has bound him
for so long
to the mud.
It would have been
simple for him
to turn his silence into a wall,
impenetrable and towering:
instead, he chose
the great, meek shame
of barking.
Yet we have never
been able to despair
of the defeated old man;
we raise a song into the night-
a shout-
for words are overflowing
with meaning.
Water, earth,
air, and fire
are his,
if he dares, at last,
to be who he is.
He must say
"enough" right now,
must choose to
walk again,
upright, unceasingly,
forevermore
a man redeemed within the people,
facing the wind.
Redeemed within the people,
master of all at last-
no longer a cowering dog,
but the sole master.
Salvador Espriu, Les Cançons d'Ariadna
Indesinenter...
