Aquellas pequeñas cosas

Uno se cree
que las mató
el tiempo y la ausencia.
Pero su tren
vendió boleto
de ida y vuelta.

Son aquellas pequeñas cosas,
que nos dejó un tiempo de rosas
en un rincón,
en un papel
o en un cajón.

Como un ladrón
te acechan detrás
de la puerta.
Te tienen tan
a su merced
como hojas muertas

que el viento arrastra allá o aquí,
que te sonríen tristes y
nos hacen que
lloremos cuando
nadie nos ve.

----------
Joan Manuel Serrat

Malson per entregues

Aquell dilluns va alçar-ne neguitós
i a l'esmorzar va comentar amb la dona
haver somniat que l'empaitava un home
d'aspecte facinerós
armat amb un 38
caçant-lo a trets per tota la ciutat,
pels terrats i sota les clavegueres,
corre que corre i l'home aquell darrera,
implacable i decidit
com un àngel de la mort.

Esfereït i cec, va ensopegar,
però ans que el botxí rematés la faena
ell tragué una arma i amb mitja dotzena
de trets va deixar-lo estès
enmig d'un bassal de sang.
I de darrera un arbre sortí en Pau,
un company de penúries d'oficina,
per ensorrar-li un ganivet de cuina
al ferit en el clatell
com qui descabella un brau.

I l'endemà, assegut als peus del llit,
ell li va dir, plorós, amb mala cara,
que el maleït malson continuava
amb ell al mig del carrer
amb una pistola a la mà
que encara fumejava pel canó.
La gent cridava, plorava i corria.
Ella volia moure els peus i no podia.
Què és el que estava passant?
Qui collons era aquell mort?

En Pau tampoc pogué fugir. Voltats
de policies, cotxes i sirenes,
les mans emmanillades a l'esquena,
a cops de puny i empentes
se'ls van endur en un furgó.
Després un racó fosc i un llum als ulls
i uns homes fent preguntes i amenaces
en relació a un mafiós mort a la plaça
per dos fanàtics fidels
a diabòlics rituals.

Va despertar-se xop i tremolant
la nit següent cap a dos quarts de quatre.
"Demà sens falta anirem al psiquiatre...",
ella va dir-se mentre ell
li contava sanglotant
que el jutge, sense haver-se'ls escoltats,
els condemnava a divuit anys i un dia.
Es pensava que mai més no tornaria
a mirar-se en els seus ulls
ni a sucar pa en el seu plat.

Per sort, en Pau, camí de la presó,
utilitzant la coneguda argúcia
del tinc pipí i tinc la pixera fluixa,
va saltar en marxa del tren
i va fugir en la foscor,
i ell es podria en un calabós fred
amb un camell penjat que només reia
i un transvestit amb barbes que li deia:
"Quan t'hi acostumis veuràs
que no s'hi està malament."

Quan van tornar del metge es va adormir
profundament com un nadó al sofà
i hauria pogut seguir clapant fins l'endemà
si no l'hagués despertat
la seva pobra muller
cridant que en Pau havia telefonat
que els de la pasma els segueixen les passes,
que no era un bon amagatall la casa,
que fondejat en el port
esperava un vaixell grec.

Caigué rodó i en recobrar-se tingué
la sensació que el terra es bellugava,
va obrir els ulls i es va topar amb una cara
molt semblat a Charles Boyer
somrient-li a un pam de nas,
oferint-li una tassa de cafè
i amb veu de vell llop de la mar li deia:
"Avez-vous bien dormi, madame, monsieur?
Dans une demie-heure nous
arriverons à Marseille.

C'est joli la liberté,
n'est-ce pas, monsieur?
C'est joli la liberté."

--------
Malson per entregues
Joan Manel Serrat

Hear you me

There's no one in town I know
you gave us someplace to go
I never said thank you for that
thought I might get one more chance

what would you think of me now?
so lucky
so strong
so proud
never said thank you for that
now I'll never have a chance

If you were with me tonight
I'd sing to you just one more time
a song for a heart so big god wouldn't let it live

may angels lead you in
hear you me my friends
on sleepless roads the sleepless go
may angels lead you in

Jimmy Eat World
The Butterfly Effect

To Sheila

Twilight fades
Through blistered Avalon
The sky's cruel torch
On aching autobahn
Into the uncertain divine
We scream into the last divine

you make me real
you make me real
strong as I feel
you make me real

Sheila rides on crashing nightingale
Intake eyes leave passing vapor trails
With blushing brilliance alive
Because it's time to arrive

you make me real
you make me real
strong as I feel
you make me real

Lately I just can't seem to believe
Discard my friends to change the scenery
It meant the world to hold a bruising faith
But now it's just a matter of grace

A summer storm graces all of me
Highway warm sing silent poetry
I could bring you the light
And take you home into the night

You make me real
Lately I just can't seem to believe
You make me real
Discard my friends to change the scenery
Strong as I feel
It meant the world to hold a bruising faith
You make me real
But now it's just a matter of grace

Smashing Pumpkins

Mayonaise

Fool enough to almost be it
Cool enough to not quite see it
Doomed
Pick your pockets full of sorrow
Run away with me tomorrow
June

We'll try, and ease the pain
Somehow, we'll feel the same
Well, no one knows
I send a heart to all my dearies
When your life is so, so dreary
Dream

I'm rumoured to the straight and narrow
While the harlots of my perils
Scream
And I fail
But when I can, I will
Try to understand
That when I can, I will

Mother weep the years I'm missing
All our time can't be given back
Shut my mouth and strike the demons
Cursed you and your reasons
Out of hand and out of season
Out of love and out of feeling
So bad

When I can, I will
Words defy the plans
When I can, I will
Fool enough to almost be it
Cool enough to not quite see it
And old enough to always feel this
Always old, I'll always feel this


No more promise no more sorrow
No longer will I follow
Can anybody hear me
I just want to be me
When I can, I will
Try to understand
That when I can, I will.

The Smashing Pumpkins

Crestfallen

Who am I to need you when I'm down
Where are you when I need you around
Your life is not your own

And all I ask you
Is for another chance
Another way around you
To live by circumstance, once again

Who am I to need you now
To ask you why to tell you no
To deserve your love and sympathy
You were never meant to belong to me

And you may go, but I know you won't leave
Too many years built into memories
Your life is not your own

Who am I to need you now
To ask you why to tell you no
To deserve your love and sympathy
You were never meant to belong to me

Who am I to you?
Along the way
I lost my faith

And as you were, you'll be again
To mold like clay, to break like dirt
To tear me up in your sympathy
You were never meant to belong to me
You were never meant to belong to me
You were never meant to belong to me

Who am I?

The Smashing Pumpkins

Blank Page

Blank page is all the rage
Never meant to say anything
In bed I was half dead
Tired of dreaming of rest
Got dressed drove the state line
Looking for you at the five and dime
Stop sign told me stay at home
Told me you were not alone
Blank page was all the rage
Never meant to hurt anyone
In bed I was half dead
Tired of dreaming of rest
You haven't changed
You're still the same
May you rise as you fall
You were easy you are forgotten
You are the ways of my mistakes
I catch the rainfall
Through the leaking roof
That you had left behind
You remind me
Of that leak in my soul
The rain falls
My friends call
Leaking rain on the phone

Take a day plant some trees
May they shade you from me
May your children play beneath

Blank page was all the rage
Never meant to say anything
In bed I was half dead
Tired of dreaming of rest
Got dressed drove the state line
Looking for you at the five and dime
But there I was picking pieces up
You are a ghost
Of my indecision
No more little girl

Smashing Pumpkins