Joan Margarit i Consarnau Poems

In the dreary Girona of my seven-year-old self,
where postwar shop-windows
wore the greyish hue of scarcity,
...

We have stopped the car
beside a wall of cypresses.
It´s thirty years we´ve lived together.
...

He kept a seat for me by his side
On a train heading towards the horizon.
I recall him drawing closer to the end, defenseless.
Yet, clad in a suit and a tie,
It'd seem that he was still in charge.
He was very afraid. Utterly. And still,
He radiated a new sort of dignity,
Elegantly taking his last turn.
I can feel the danger brushing past the mirrors.
And on childhood's sad rocky ground,
Lurking in hiding, the viper of his love.
...

Amidst the many disasters, piled up like bags,
Life has bestowed on me your love.
Who cares, night's silence,
The black car with its headlights off,
And the sax, dimly heard in the radio.
The shot is what needs to be impeccable:
Dangerous and accurate. Like you in my life.
...