I evoke the songs that followed long rows of caravans
To the conquest of a blank space and anew
I ponder the intensity of each word.
I walk day and night through an invented landscape
Whilst I think of the wasted hours thrown into the paper bin
And all the other hours where they took body and soul
Beings with whom I played at forging credible fictions.
I evoke and lick my wounds like an old cat which,
Haughty and splendid, refuses to accept defeat.
With feline claws I evoke and write with spirit of revenge.
Translated by Joan-Carles Martí i Casanova