GENER - Troughs of sea (Robert Graves)
Do you delude yourself?’ a neighbour asks, Dismayed by my abstraction. But though love cannot question love Nor need deny its need, Pity the man who finds a rebel heart Under his breastbone drumming Which reason warns him he should drown In midnight wastes of the sea. Now as he stalks between tormented pines (The moon in her last quarter) A lissom spectre glides ahead And utters not a word. Waves tasselled with dark weed come rearing up Like castle walls, disclosing Deep in their troughs a ribbed sea-floor To break his bones upon. Clasp both your hands under my naked foot And press hard, as I taught you: A trick to mitigate the pangs Either of birth or love. Traducció “T’enganyes tu mateix?” em pregunta un veí alarmat pel meu entotsolament. Però encara que amor no pot qüestionar amor ni cal que en negui la necessitat, pobre d’aquell que troba un cor rebel timbalejant-li sota l’estèrnum, raó que l’adverteix