Barcelona

Posted by Anton N. Poletaev (Palma de Mallorca, Spain) on 17 July 2007 in Cityscape & Urban and Portfolio.

This city where time is held still by the old clocktower's hands,
Where the quilt of the heavens is sewn by the needle-sharp spires,
And the lamps in the night
Reverse the swift arrow of time to the yesterday's lands
Toward wars long surrendered, and days of abundance, and fires
Of the dawn -- same tired lights
That playfully gilded the chapels when princes last reigned
Or herzogs; this city is brimming with cosiness and sounds
Of a language unknown.
The carnival beasts have stood still as the centuries waned,
The hour has been always the same, change of minutes announced
By quick sifting alone
Of sand. Stone-paved streets of this fortress resound their refrains,
The vagabond echoing sounds haunt the valleys -- the words
Of the speeches of yore.
We leave the bright carnival for the dull slumber of lanes,
As magical signs on an age-old cathedral point towards
An eternity. For
Our fate brings us back in a moment, but hours would be lost
By time flowing hastily outside the cirle of towers
And not crossing that line.
We're bound to return. Unaware of a January frost,
The organ is playing, the blizzards of Christmas are powerless,
And the streetlights still shine.

poetry - Sergey Archipov
Translated in 1992 by Serge Winitzki