dimecres, 11 de febrer de 2009

DEL BLOC DE L'EMIGDI

Aquest és un escrit tret del bloc del meu germà, l'Emigdi Subirats Sebastià.
Aquesta és la setmana del tour literari que ha de realitzar Xavi Sarrià, el cantant d'Obrint pas, per les Terres de l'Ebre, durant la qual visitarà les poblacions de Flix, Roquetes, Jesús, Amposta, Campredó i Tortosa. Ja hem publicat en posts anteriors el programa d'actes. Per a Soldevila és una visita important que els permetrà continuar amb la seva tasca de difusió literària i de compromís independentista. Els contes que inclou el llibre "Històries del paradís" són tot un crit de rebel·lia i de denúncia social. Esperem poder tenir unes presentacions ben lluïdes i que tinguin un fort interès ciutadà. Aquest cop per tal de difondre el llibre i les activitats l'Emigdi ha volgut traduir alguns paràgrafs d'un conte a la llengua anglesa.



"I am hidden in a locker and can hear confusing, blurry screams. I hear but can’t understand anything, can’t tell what they say. I feel nervous and am trembling. I feel my legs weaken. I feel like crying. What shall I do? No idea. I’m not safe here. I’d better try to leave. I still have the blood and the screams in mind, everybody fleeing and Miss Mälkki’s corpse lying on the floor. Why? It’s been quick and chaotic. I’ve run among shots, screams and blood. I’ve hidden myself in a classroom locker. I don’t even know how I got here. Gosh... But I can’t sink, must be strong. Should I move elsewhere? I dare. I'm moving on my knees among chairs and tables. I must try not to make any noise. My breath is strong and quick, but I am already at the door. I got it. And now, shall I do anything? I don’t think so... Or I should... who knows? I must be brave. I open the door. I’m still trying not to make any noise, but it creaks. Fucking door... My stomach is burning as it had needles inside. I see a long empty wide corridor. I have a look at both sides. Nothing strange, totally empty. But suddenly my sight is quite blurry. My pulsations speed. Why is my sight blurry? Am I hurt? I touch my body. I am not wounded, there are bloody spots on my shirt though. I get scared. My breath breaks before tears. But I mustn’t cry... Please, don’t cry! I must keep calm. I try to convince myself once and again until I manage to calm down."