màgia

Em sé fer uns peixos de fusta
panxarruts, no gaire grans;
els empleno de llimalla
tocada amb la pedra imant
i els acoloreixo a l'oli
perquè siguin fulgurants.
Ensenyo els peixos i explico
que veurem com nedaran
tots dos sols dins una bóta;
i, un cop a l'aigua posats,
demano un bocí de coca
i els el dono amb una mà.
(Però jo, sense que es vegi,
hi barrejo pedra imant
i així sembla, pels qui miren
que els peixos vénen nedant.)
Damunt l'aigua i sota els núvols
si hi ha coses per contar!
Milers de llums brillarien
si la bóta fos el mar
i els espectadors que miren
fos tota la humanitat,
i els peixos que m'engipono
fossin uns peixos navals
que llisquessin per les ones
com ocells per l'aire blau.

petita oda en dijous, joan brossa, vint-i-una odes, uns goigs, una dansa i un sonet (1958) dins joan brossa, poesia rasa (barcelona: ariel, 1970)

acords menors

[a una amiga, refractària]

Ev'ry time we say goodbye
I die a little,
ev'ry time we say goodbye
I wonder why a little,
why the gods above me
who must be in the know
think so little of me
they allow you to go.
When you're near
there's such an air
of spring about it,
I can hear a lark somewhere
begin to sing about it,
there's no love song finer,
but how strange the change
from major to minor...

annie lennox, every time we say goodbye (cole porter, seven lively arts, 1944), dins red hot + blue (chrysalis, 1990), videoclip dirigit per ed lachman

descobriment

[al meu fill, carles]

That scene begins
With our next melody
Sung by a bashful bird
Humming a violet sky
There are no words
But there is understanding
It's been so long
Since I've heard your pretty voice
Raise up our lights
And enter hero girl
She makes me calm
God, she makes me calm
When she hears a song
And she starts singing
It's been so long
Since I've heard your pretty voice
Strike up the band
Here comes the storyline
'bout the usual struggle
Between fear and love
This is the lifelong song
We're all singing
It's been so long
Since I've heard your pretty voice
When it begins
I miss your hollering
But you're so shy
Such a bashful bird
Here's a song
But no one's singing
It's been so long
Since I've heard your pretty voice

pretty voice, cloud cult, the meaning of 8 (the current studios, fitzgerald theater, saint paul, minnesota, 27 de març de 2007)

pallassos

[o com quan llegia els papers del club pickwick, de charles dickens, i vaig entendre que no hi ha forma més alta d'intel·ligència que situar-se un mateix com a objecte del riure]

He made me laugh
He made me cry
He smoked his stogies in bed
But I'm all right
I'm all right
I've been lonely before
I asked the boy for a few kind words
He gave me a novel instead
But I'm all right
I'm all right
I've been lonely before
It's fine, it's OK
It was wrong either way
I just wanted to say
There isn't much fun when you're drinking wine
He got drunk, he fell down
He threw a few of my things around
But I'm all right
I'm all right
I've been lonely before
I'd like to believe healthy cigarettes
But I have to conceive that wherever you are
You're still driving my car
Sticks and stones break my bones
But tears don't leave any scars
So I'm all alright
I'm all alright
I've been lonely before
Mmm...
I'm all alright
I'm all alright
I'm all alright
Yeah
He played solitaire in bed
Used to blow bubbles in bed
He sang Christmas songs in bed

i'm all right, madeleine peyroux, half the perfect world (rounder records, 2006)

manipulació

[o l'art de la conversa]

_harry: I love you.
_sally: How do you expect me to respond to this?
_harry: How about you love me, too?
_sally: How about, I'm leaving.
_harry: Doesn't what I said mean anything to you?
_sally: I'm sorry, Harry. I know it's new year's eve. I know you're feeling lonely, but you just can't show up here, tell me you love me, and expect that to make everything all right. It doesn't work this way.
_harry: Well, how does it work?
_sally: I don't know, but not this way.
_harry: How about this way? I love that you get cold when it's seventy-one degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're lookin' at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely. And it's not because it's new year's eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.
_sally: (feeling manipulated but also melting) You see. That is just like you, Harry. You say things like that, and you make it impossible for me to hate you, and I hate you, Harry. I really hate you. I hate you.

meg ryan i billy crystal en when harry met sally, escrita per nora ephron i dirigida per rob reiner (castle rock entertainment, 1989)

desafiament

[a la incògnita]

Areonautico è il cielo,
vuoto, abissale, chissà...
senza orologi quel volo tra stelle e cenere andrà…
E l’ultima donna che avremo un giardino ci sembrerà,
sì, proprio l’ultimo approdo di terra l’ultima donna sarà,
l’ultima donna sarà…

l'ultima donna, paolo conte, paris milonga (rca, 1981)

retorn

[a una hora, aquella en què, després d'hores de vol, retornem a casa... i la trobem buida]

And there are no letters in the mailbox.
There are no grapes upon the vine.
There are no chocolates in your boxes anymore,
and there are no diamonds in the mine.

no diamonds in the mine, leonard cohen, songs of love and hate (columbia records, 1971)

fènix

Com la figura damunt les cendres del foc de la immortalitat, així el meu constipat i jo.

llibertat

[al meu treball]

nova campanya de promoció de la furgoneta citroen berlingo
(agència: euro RSCG, 2008)

aquest blat i la casa

[a una illa, i a la idea per a una novel·la]

No tornaràs. Recorda, no t'apartis,
mentre fas via, del que tan senzill
és d'estimar: aquest blat i la casa,
el blanc senyal de la barca dins del mar,
el lent or de l'hivern ajaçat a les vinyes,
l'ombra d'un arbre damunt l'ample camp.

salvador espriu, llibre dels morts, dins el caminant i el mur (barcelona, 1954)

d'acord

[als buròcrates qui haurien de picar pedra, i no vanar-se de ser d'acadèmica pedra picada]

Fills de la Gran Puta,
d'ombra allargada i petja diminuta:
llenguallargs llepaculs de gasetilla,
funcionaris de patilla i de cartilla,
tous de carrera i bufats de bandera
creuhonorats in pectore o a la pitrera,
aprovats purulents i pestilents de nota,
putrefactes doctors en bancarrota,
catedràtics, apàtics, limfàtics, raquítics,
torracollons públicament mefítics,
àugurs falsaris de sèquits gregaris
arraïmats pels lladrucs dels sicaris,
cagallons, cagadurs i cagadubtes
estupradors de ruïnes abruptes,
comerciants de merda selenita
llorejats amb corones d’uralita,
crítics cretins, crenetistes frenètics,
pixatinters d’excessos diurètics,
bards neotísics i protorreumàtics
més bufanúvols que nefelobàtics,
cecs acadèmics, prostàtics i endèmics,
i saltimbanquis recontraacadèmics,
alts ocupants de poltrones i càrrecs
ben acoflats al tou dels vostres fems,
aneu-vos-en tots plegats a fregir espàrrecs,
oh, pústules de sempre i del meu temps!

mataró-llavaneres, jordi cornudella, el germà de catul i més coses (barcelona: empúries - 62, 1997), musicat per gerard quintana en caragol, treu banya (música global, 2007)

alambí

[al dia d'avui, en què tot està llest per fer el vi]

Hi ha un rom antic pel qual bé donaria
tots els alcohols de França, un rom molt vell,
que entenebreix i esbalça, esput vermell
d'un déu malalt, sol de l'estrangeria.

No hi ha a l'Infern beuratge més serè
ni dins els Cels més impura ambrosia,
avorta parts i engendra bogeria
i al fons dels sots als morts torna l'alè.

I cada cop que el bec em sembla viure
fa dos-cents anys, o dos mil, tant se val:
Som serf d'Odi, d'Ashaqlun tinc el riure;
fa fred, som a París, em dic Nerval.

quimeres, andreu vidal, l'animal que no existeix (barcelona: proa, 1993)

sense títol

[a aquells qui juguen al joc de la cadira amb la cultura]

monólogo, silvio rodríguez, silvio (fonomusic, 1977)

pausa

[a una musa i a un silenci gairebé elèctric]


what is this thing called love? gwyneth paltrow, infamous (douglas mcgrath, 2006)

pilgrim

[a una ànima amb sabates noves]
timberland, 66512 (2008)

barcelona

[a un temps i a una ciutat]
lorenzo mattotti, solitudine (s. d.)

colofó

[O com uns mateixos versos aplicats a una mateixa persona poden encaminar de maneres tan diferents. Aquesta cançó em va acompanyar en l'anada d'una relació. Ara, en la tornada, n'és el precís colofó.]

óleo de mujer con sombrero, sílvio rodríguez, al final de este viaje (emi, 1970)

gasolina

[a un correu rebut, i a la facilitat de pensar
que no hem d'acceptar el que no ens agrada]

Te escribo desde un área de servicio,
donde sólo me ofrecen gasolina.
Puedes llamarme a cobro revertido
desde la caracola de la esquina.

tito muñoz i joan manuel serrat, de cuando estuve loco (joan manuel serrat, versos en la boca, 2002)

complement

[a una amiga a qui agrada emily dickinson]

What I dream I had:
Pressed in organdy;
Clothed in crinoline of smoky burgundy;
Softer than the rain.
I wandered empty streets
Down past the shop displays.
I heard cathedral bells
Tripping down the alley ways,
As I walked on.

And when you ran to me
Your cheeks flushed with the night.
We walked on frosted fields of juniper and lamplight,
I held your hand.
And when I awoke and felt you warm and near,
I kissed your honey hair with my grateful tears.
Oh I love you, girl.
Oh, I love you.

for emily whenever may i find her, paul simon, en simon and garfunkel, parsley, sage, rosemay and thime (columbia, 1964)

reialesa

[a les vegades que, des dels disset anys, aquesta cançó m'ha fet somriure]

When I was seventeen I dreamed of being king
and having everything I wanted.
But that was long ago and
My dreams did not unfold, so
I'm still the king of nothing.

When I was seventeen I dreamed I gave a ring
to a pretty queen and then I held her.
But that was slumber's fault for
I have no love at all and
I'm still the king of nothing.

If I could rule, I'd dance my cares away,
Find romance every day.
I wouldn't have to listen to this poor fool say:
I'm the king,
I'm the king,
I'm the king of nothing!

king of nothing, seals and croft, unborn child (warner brothers, 1974)