Poemes de Norman MacCaig (5)

DUES NITS

La nit real, la que
continua tornant en el temps,
mai no comença
amb una punyalada de negre.

Com si, educadament,
fes un soroll en la grava
i tossís i truqués a la porta
abans d'entrar.

No com l'altra, que
en la majoria d'estius dels dies
esquinça la llum i vessa
una negra foscor sense lluna, sense estrelles.

TWO NIGHTS The real night, the one / that keeps coming back on time, / never begins / with a gash of black. // As though, politely, / it makes a noise on the gravel / and coughs and knocks at the door / before coming in. // Not like the other one, that / on de most summer of days / gashes the light and pours through / a black dark with no moon, no stars. [July 1985]


TRIPULACIÓ

Tres homes remen
al costat d'estribord,
l'home que sóc i el que vaig ser
i l'home que seré.

La barca navega
cap a un cec horitzó.
Qui està remant a babord
i fa que avancem recte?

Remant com ho hem de fer
no podem girar-nos
a babord o estribord per aquest
invisible remer.

CREW Three men are pulling / at the starboard oar, / the man I am and was / and the man I'll be. // The boat sails / to a blind horizon. / Who's pulling on the portside oar / that keeps our course straight? // Pull as we may / we're kept from turning / to port or starboard by that / invisible oarsman. [August 1985]