Text: Louis Aragon
Year: 1970
This poem is about a catalan Sardane, Santa Espina (Holy Thorn), which had been outlawed by the dictatures of Rivera and Franco.
I remember a tune that could not be heard without the heart beating
And the blood being on fire
Without the fire starting again like an heart under the ash
And we finally knew why the sky is blue
I remember a tune alike to the air from the open sea
A tune alike to the shout of the migrating birds
A tune of which the sob seems to carry in the margin
The revenge of the seas on their tamers
I remember a tune which we whistled in the shadow
During the times without sun, nor errant knights
When childhood was crying and in the catacombs
A pure people was dreaming of the death of tyrants
He was carrying in its name the holy thorns
Which gives, at the forehead of a god, his colored tears
And the song in the flesh, like an anchored smallboat
Revived his wound and reopened his pain
Noone would have dared to put words
On this tune humming all the forbidden words
The universe ravaged with ancient poxes
It was your hope and your four thursdays
I search in vain its heartbreaking sentences
But the earth only has tears of Opera left
At the memory of those murmuring waters is missing
The call from spring to spring of the tenoras
Oh Holy Thron Oh Holy Thorn resume
We were listening to you standing up in time past, remember
Who could restore your romance nowadays
Give back the voice to the singing woods which went quiet
I want to believe that there are musics still
In the mysterious heart of the country there
The mute will talk again and the paralytics
Will walk a fine day at the sound of the cobla
And we'll see fall from the forehead of the Son of Man
The crown of blood symbol of misfortune
And Man will sing loudly this time as
If life was beautiful and hawthorn in blossom
All poems written by Louis Aragon
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