Emigdi Subirats i Sebastià

Lletres ebrenques

20 de març de 2023
0 comentaris

Footprints on earth (12)

I noticed what was going to occur, I did nothing though.
I was not willing to move, felt like sitting in a shadow.
I never fought for anything, nor look back or front,
Hated the present times from the bottom of my heart.
I worked, breathed and studied, sometimes even wrote,
Didn’t want to publish a bestseller, nor become a famous poet
Just needed some peace of mind. Suddenly, my body was altered.
Since I wanted to be the king of an earthen paradise
To offer the crown and plant flowers in the garden of your heart.
I wish I could buy the stars and bring them to your arms
To make the universe shine golden lights of peace
In moments forever more merry and nice.
I longed to fly somewhere to find the essence of soul
Filled with happiness around and save the world
Of spines and be back together again.

Monday is the saddest day, awakened in the early morning
With a whole labouring week in mind, wishes of relieving times,
Hectic weekend with passions and soccer, a kind barman
Serving cold beer and nice chats with closest friends.
Fall is the windiest season with dry leaves and empty trees.
The Ebro river is rushing, greatest fountain in a land
Full of olive groves, the nicest scent of pure virgin oil.
Rainstorms versus sunlight, the sea breeze refreshing the air.
It’s the weird season, neither swimming nor skiing,
I wanna get rid of all troubles, I’d definitely feel free
Just trekking in the beautiful natural paradise around my place.
Having a long shower makes my unease vanish.
I long to spend the evening reading Owen’s14 poetry,
Sweetest weapon against bloodiest warlike conflict.

Which is the main variety of olive tree in this grove,
Whose scent gets spread all around? Healthy buds growing
In pioneer spring, — beautiful fruitful white sight —,
Later on becoming long twigs with new leaves in fertile earth.
Grandson of peasant farmers harvesting it since ancestral times,
— Early morning frost, sultry midday, evening mosquito stings,—
Sweating foreheads — dawn to sunset — . The best crop ripening
In Autumn windy season, little rain in dry suffering fields,
Small round olives darkening too soon praying for sky watering,
This is our land of heavy droughts, punished grounds,
Mature firm sad-grown black gordal15 olives with high oil content.
In red land, green long-lived trees in beautiful landscapes.
Handful of dust everywhere, chubby olives snack unto themselves,
Fleshy fruit with central seed stone… a drupe.

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