Anhels. Longings

Anhels

Si tens ganes de jugar,
si el que vols és maquinar
i interpretar personatges,
rei, pensa que hi ha mil coses:
la botifarra, la brisca,
l’escalèxtric, el parxís,
dames, escacs, jocs de rol,
i, bé, així fins a mil.
Si el que et falta és carinyo,
rei, vés i compra’t un gos.
Però a mi no m’han fabricat
per jugar ni per fer córrer,
ni m’han adjuntat instruccions,
ni llepo culs, ni faig bonic.
A mi m’han parit d’un ventre,
dona, subtil, forta i humil.
Jo, rei meu, tinc pols i venes.
Sí, dins la carn hi tinc venes,
sí, allà on corre sang,
¿saps?, rei, que la sang és vida,
com lo riu, que també és vida.
I la vida no només és
el que veus, flaires i toques,
no, parlo de vida humana,
rei, humà, ¿saps què és això?
¿Humà, humanitat… sí?
¿Sentir-me, valorar-me,
apreciar fins al moll de l’os?
Ah, no, tu no arribes a la
medul·la, massa endins, ¿no?
Pell i carn, només, ¿no, rei?
D’alçada i cames ben llargues,
i corbes irreverents
embolicades per robes
que siguin com vulguis, però
de marca: Dolce&Gabbana,
Calvin Klein, Burberry, Dior,
Lacoste, Armani, Levi’s, mínim.
I el cap, el que és el cervell…
¿tampoc, no? Només cabells,
amb reflexos, si pot ser,
¿no? I rossos, a més, ¿no?
I jo, esclar, de rossa res,
ni tampoc cap cabellera.
Jo, moreneta, baixeta,
sense teta, normaleta.
I sense cap marca al cul
o a la samarreta.
I encara que tingués
un moll d’os un xic lluent,
doncs, a tu, què t’hi aniria,
perquè a tu ben poc t’importa,
ja ho hem dit, i per això jugues.
I com que ja em sento imbècil
i marejada de tant
anar com una baldufa,
doncs et vinc amb aquests versos,
i acabo parlant-te clar.
Mira, rei: sóc dona humana,
i no sé mirar i prou,
ni tampoc jugar i prou,
ni molt menys cardar i prou.
El meu anhel ho vol tot.
Gemma Arimany. Del llibre Ulls a través

Longings

If you fancy playing,
If you just want to plot
And play some characters,
Honey, you'd better think
There are thousands of things:
Botifarra, brisca,
Scalextric, ludo,
Draughts, chess, role plays,
And well, so on.
If you are starved of affection,
Honey, go and buy yourself a dog.
But I haven't been made
To play or be walked,
Neither do I come with any instructions
Nor made to kiss any ass. I'm not useless.
I was born from a womb
Subtle, strong yet humble woman.
I have, my dear, pulse and veins,
Yes, I have veins within my flesh,
Sure, there where blood flows,
You know? Honey, blood is life
Like the river, that is also life
And life is not only
What you can see, smell and touch,
No, I speak about human life
Honey, human, have you heard of it?
Human, humanity... have you?
Could you feel me, not take me for granted
Care for me through and through?
Oh no, you can't reach
The marrow, too far inside, isn't it?
Only skin and flesh, right honey?
Tall and well long legs
With irreverent curves
Wrapped up under clothes
Whatever they may be,
But posh: Dolce&Gabbana,
Calvin Klein, Burberry, Dior,
Lacoste, Armani, Levi's at the least.
And her head, as far as the brain is concerned,
Not either, right? Only hair
With highlights, if possible,
Right? And still blonde, right?
As I am, obviously, not long haired
Or blonde at all.
I am brunette, shortish,
Boobless, ordinary.
With no mark on my ass
Or on my t-shirt.
And even if I had
A slightly shiny core
Then, what would it be to you,
You couldn't care less,
We already said that, and that's why you play.
And as I'm already feeling foolish
And dizzy of so much spinning,
I'm coming with these lines
No beating round the bush.
Look honey: I'm human woman,
And I can't only look
Or only play,
Let alone just shag
My longing wants it all.

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