3 de gener. Command of what, there's no one here, there's only you and me ................ I risked my life, but not to hear some country-western song

La persiana ja estava trencada a més de tres quarts d’alçada i la vaig desmuntar del tot el dia de Sant Esteve. No em feia por que es trenqués del tot amb el temporal sinó que caigués al carrer o alguna cosa així. Obro el balcó mentre sento Hallelujah i veig una estrella brilla més fent pampallugues i penso que potser és Venus.

Mentre provo de drenar els versos que sento:

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you
To a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

miro les branques més altes dels plàtans que m’arriben fins els peus i penso en que falten mesos per començar a veure brots. Els arbres d’hivern de la Sylvia Plath que tornen cada any com els pensaments d’hivern.

Quan tanco el balcó i m’assec ja sona The Captain


Now the Captain called me to his bed
He fumbled for my hand
"Take these silver bars," he said
"I'm giving you command."
"Command of what, there's no one here
There's only you and me --
All the rest are dead or in retreat
Or with the enemy."
"Complain, complain, that's all you've done
Ever since we lost
If it's not the Crucifixion
Then it's the Holocaust."
"May Christ have mercy on your soul
For making such a joke
Amid these hearts that burn like coal
And the flesh that rose like smoke."

[…]

"There is no decent place to stand
In a massacre;
But if a woman take your hand
Go and stand with her."
"I left a wife in Tennessee
And a baby in Saigon --
I risked my life,
but not to hear Some country-western song."