The Black Pidgeon (English and Catalan versions)

Black Pidgeon

Heart onto microscope SF 2
Graffiti artist BiP San Francisco City

 

ENGLISH:

A tasty lentil soup

keeps you warm from the cold.

Coldness outside

speaks of emptiness,

sadness in a cloudy day.

Or is it just the fog all around

that saddens your mind and spirit?

 

Going through the streets

the walking dead

if they can still walk.

You saw poverty’s face

the system’s decay.

Needles in their hands,

hollow eyes, ailment,

people lost without a second chance.

 

Is this what you came here for?

But you had your lentil soup

that kept your body warm

while your bleeding heart

sank in the deepest darkness.

You detached it from the body

took it to analyze

put it on to a microscope

as the man of the postcard

the hostel woman gave you.

“A present for you”, she said,

“As you like our hostel so much.”

 

And the bleeding heart spoke up

vomited nothing but the truth

awaiting the other truth that hurts.

You knew it would happen.

 

The lentil soup eaten

in the Arabian restaurant

and then a sudden sound,

a slight noise on the floor,

something moves near your table.

You raise your eyes and there it is:

A black pidgeon inside

walks a few steps toward you

as if he wanted to speak.

“Do we have a new guest?”

The waitress gently guides him

to the main room

near the entrance door.

The bird moves his wings

flies inside the restaurant.

The waitresss, a little scared,

utters an “oh” sound

while the black pidgeon

displays his wings, flies away

through the restaurant door.

A sad bird looking

for temporary company,

maybe a friendship

but forever unattainable.

 

 

CATALÀ: El colom negre

 

Una saborosa sopa de llenties

t’escalfa del fred.

La fredor a l’exterior

parla de buidor,

tristesa en un dia plujós.

O és només la boira per tot arreu

que t’entristeix la ment i l’esperit?

 

Anant pel carrer

els morts caminant

si és que encara poden caminar.

Has vist el rostre de la pobresa,

la decadència del sistema.

Agulles a les seves mans,

ulls buits, malaltia,

gent perduda sense una segona oportunitat.

 

És per això que has vingut aquí?

Però tu menjares la teva sopa de llenties

que t’escalfa el cos

mentre la teva ànima sagnant

s’enfonsà en la més profunda foscor.

La separares del teu cos

i l’agafares per analitzar

posant-la en un microscopi

com l’home de la postal

que la dona de l’alberg et donà.

– Un regal per a tu -, va dir,

– ja que t’agrada tant el nostre alberg.

 

I l’ànima sagnant va parlar

vomitant res més que la veritat,

esperant l’altra veritat que fa mal.

Ja sabies que això passaria.

 

La sopa de llenties menjada

en el restaurant àrab

i llavors, un soroll sobtat,

una remor al terra,

alguna cosa es mou prop la teva taula.

Alces la mirada i és allí:

Un colom negre a dins.

Camina uns passos cap a tu

com si volgués parlar.

– Tenim un nou convidat?

La cambrera el guia gentilment

cap a la sala principal.

L’0cell mou les seves ales,

vola dins del restaurant.

La cambrera, una mica espantada,

deixa anar un “oh!”

mentre el colom negre

desplega les ales, vola lluny

a través de la porta del restaurant.

Un ocell trist, buscant

companyia temporal,

potser una amistat

però per sempre, inabastable.

 

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