DESERT PLACES I THE SNOW MAN R. FROST I W. STEVENS

Darrerament sembla que estic narrant les meves memòries i posant fotos a les xarxes socials com si fos un artista o algú que ja, com deia una famosa cantant d'òpera, té més vida per darrere que per davant. Res més lluny de la realitat. No sóc famós i tinc més vida que mai. Però si, avui vull contar un moment que vaig passar molt dolent i com ho vaig superar. Va ser una mort. Quan et passen coses greus, tot el món ve i et consola, et diu com ho van superar, què has de fer, què els hi va funcionar a ells o simplement estan al teu costat en silenci... A mi no em va funcionar res fins que vaig ser jo el que em vaig adonar. Va ser a cinquè de carrera. Havia de comparar dos poemes. Vaig optar per dos autors transcendentalistes del XIX. Els poemes triats van ser aquestos dos:

THE SNOWMAN WALLACE STEVENS 

   One must have a mind of winter

To regard the frost and the boughs

Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time

To behold the junipers shagged with ice,

The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think

Of any misery in the sound of the wind,

In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land

Full of the same wind

That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,

And, nothing himself, beholds

Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is

ROBERT FROST DESERT PLACES

Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast
In a field I looked into going past,
And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,
But a few weeds and stubble showing last.

The woods around it have it—it is theirs.
All animals are smothered in their lairs.
I am too absent-spirited to count;
The loneliness includes me unawares.

And lonely as it is, that loneliness
Will be more lonely ere it will be less—
A blanker whiteness of benighted snow
With no expression, nothing to express.

They cannot scare me with their empty spaces
Between stars—on stars where no human race is.
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places.

En moments com aquestos convé tenir els dos poemes presents. Per cert, em van posar una A.