Eutímia. Helena Bonals

Gronxar-te amb l’arc de Sant Martí, l’hamaca 

que t’aixeca del terra entre l’alba i la posta. 

Anar del nadir al zenit.

Retenir l’emoció dins d’una espurna

que és tot el que queda del dia. 

Poder-ho transformar

en paraules i en silenci,

on em trobi sempre amb mi mateixa, 

quan ja no hi trec ni hi poso res.

Helena Bonals. 

(Poesia finalista al premi de poesia de Bigues i Riells)

Empty Chairs at empty tables

 

Cal no oblidar mai el que estava passant aquell març.

Una adaptació de "Els miserables", cantat per Cormac Thompson

La lletra, en  anglès:

There's a grief that can't be spoken

There's a pain goes on and on Empty chairs at empty tables Now my friends are dead and gone Here they talked of revolution Here it was they lit the flame Here they sang about tomorrow And tomorrow never came From the table in the corner They could see a world reborn And they rose with voices ringing And I can hear them now! The very words that they had sung Became their last communion On this lonely barricade At dawn Oh my friends, my friends forgive me That I live and you are gone There's a grief that can't be spoken There's a pain goes on and on Phantom faces at the window Phantom shadows on the floor Empty chairs at empty tables Where my friends will meet no more Oh my friends, my friends Don't ask me what your sacrifice was for Empty chairs at empty tables Where my friends will sing no more