Let the downpour roil and toil!
The worst it can do to me
Is carry some garden soil
A little nearer the sea.
The worst it can do to me
Is carry some garden soil
A little nearer the sea.
'Tis the world old way of the rain
When it comes to a mountain farm
To exact for a present gain
A little of future harm.
When it comes to a mountain farm
To exact for a present gain
A little of future harm.
And the harm is none too sure.
For when all that was rotted rich
Shall be in the end scoured poor,
When my garden has gone down ditch,
For when all that was rotted rich
Shall be in the end scoured poor,
When my garden has gone down ditch,
Some force has but to apply,
And summits shall be immersed,
The bottom of seas raised dry,
The slope of the earth reversed.
And summits shall be immersed,
The bottom of seas raised dry,
The slope of the earth reversed.
Then all I need do is run
To the other end of the slope
And on tracts laid new to the sun
Begin all over to hope.
To the other end of the slope
And on tracts laid new to the sun
Begin all over to hope.
Some worn old tool of my own
Will be turned up by the plow,
The wood of it changed to stone,
But as ready to wield as now.
Will be turned up by the plow,
The wood of it changed to stone,
But as ready to wield as now.
May my application so close
To the endless repetition
Never make me tired and morose
And resentful of man's condition.
To the endless repetition
Never make me tired and morose
And resentful of man's condition.
Que plogui a bots i barrals!
El més que aconseguirà
és endur-se'm un bocí de l'hort
un xic més a prop del mar.
La pluja, des que el món és món,
quan ve a una granja de muntanya,
imposa un poc de dany futur
a canvi del guany d'ara.
I el dany no és segur del tot,
perquè el podrit de gras
sigui famèlic de debò,
i l'hort jegui al fons del barranc,
alguna cosa farà que
els cimals siguin submergits,
que el fons del mar es torni sec...
i el pendent de la terra invertit.
Llavors sols hauré d'anar-me'n,
corrent, al pendent oposat
i, per senders nous sota el sol,
tornar a començar a esperar.
Algun gastat vell estri meu
serà trobat per una arada,
l'antiga fusta convertida en pedra
però capaç de ser útil encara.
Oh, que aquest ànim meu, dispost
a la repetició inacabable,
no em faci las, ni taciturn,
ni ressentit de la condició humana.
Traducció de Josep Maria Jaumà
(del llibre "Gebre i sol"
Ed. Quaderns Crema, 2012)
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