Album:
#0001
Originele teksten
Catalaans
Vertaling
Engels
Eclipsi
Eclipse
And suddenly he understood everything:
the ideas, the antipodes and the north.
An eclipse so distant
from the calmness of a steaming pot.
He described other places
with details so clear that I can even hear their sound,
and I could imagine them
in the lines of my hand.
It doesn’t matter if it was easy or innocent;
if the force was optimal for the wind;
if at night the comets are sleepy;
if we live so far away from the point of no return.
And suddenly he kindled it all,
he left four words inside a jar.
And the rest of those present
were discussing time machines.
He kept entering one more item,
or a precise formula, just to stop thinking at all.
A drop in a puddle
that evaporates vertically.
It doesn’t matter if it was easy or innocent;
if the force was optimal for the wind;
if at night the comets are sleepy;
if we live so far away from the point of no return.
It doesn’t matter if the line gets diluted;
if there’s a flat upstairs or it doesn’t exist;
if there are Sunday mornings in another place;
if we were part of nothing or maybe part of everything.
If at night the comets are sleepy;
if we live so far away from the point of no return.
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