The days
words: Joan Vinyoli
music: Xavi Múrcia
traslation: Maribel Sánchez Valero
The days blossom and die,
and they only leave us sorrow.
With starry nights you fill
a time, your heart, too much,
you picked up the pale gold of the dusk
like flowers for intimate gardens.
World’s beauty possessed,
secure, happy truth,
lose as soon as you reach it,
desire of knowing a purest
life, highest, quiet
heart’s mystery, and then:
everything reduces, everything die, crushed
by the hours hard rhythm.
We pass saying goodbye backwards:
what we have had for a moment
is lost in the useless race;
it remains only a memory and a lament.
We pass like the first ardour
of the dawn, like the wind’s murmur.
Book: Poesia completa