funeral blues

avui he sentit dues pèrdues. l'una era fictícia -tot i que jo ja ho sabia-, provocada per aquesta inseguretat en el temps del matí. l'altra, la desaparició dels meus arxius de l'ordinador.

després, Ell i jo ens hem ajegut al sofà a veure Four weddings and a funeral, una de les meves pel·lícules preferides. quan he sentit novament recitar els versos d'Auden en la part del funeral, he pensat en les meves pèrdues personals i he decidit que jo també volia recitar aquests versos. perquè són preciosos.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
silence the pianos and with muffled drum
bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
my working week and my Sunday rest,
my noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
for nothing now can ever come to any good.