M'hauria Agradat
M'hauria agradat viure en una masia
perduda entre alzines i pins vora el mar,
allà a l'Empordà, amb una barca petita per sortir a pescar.
M'hauria agradat.
M'hauria agradat que per aquella finestra
mai hagués pogut veure aquell cotxe daurat
frenar massa tard, o no trobar-me la mare, la nit de Nadal,
plorant d'amagat.
Però ningú em va avisar que es podia escriure una carta
com qui demana el menú per dinar.
Però ningú em va avisar i el cambrer no em fa cas
i tot sol, en silenci, m'acabo el meu plat.
M'hauria agradat que aquella promesa, d'amor i tendresa
no s'hagués transformat, després de tants anys,
en aquella carta distant, de comiat.
M'hauria agradat.
I m'hauria agradat poder ser a casa els vespres
tornant de la feina i dormir
quan el sol també ho fa.
M'hauria agradat.
Però suposo que això va com va,
i, com sempre, potser vaig fer tard,
i he de viure la vida
com qui encara somia
que potser s'acompleixi allò
que m'hauria agradat.
Però potser vaig fer tard.
I Would Have Liked
I would have liked to live in a farmhouse
lost among oaks and pines near the sea,
there in Empordà, with a small boat to go fishing.
I would have liked.
I would have liked that through that window
I had never seen that golden car
brake too late, or not find my mother, on Christmas Eve,
crying in secret.
But no one warned me that you could write a letter
like ordering lunch from a menu.
But no one warned me and the waiter ignores me
and all alone, in silence, I finish my dish.
I would have liked that promise of love and tenderness
had not turned, after so many years,
into that distant farewell letter.
I would have liked.
And I would have liked to be home in the evenings
coming back from work and sleep
when the sun also does.
I would have liked.
But I guess that's how it goes,
and, as always, maybe I was too late,
and I have to live life
like someone still dreaming
that maybe what
I would have liked comes true.
But maybe I was too late.