New Year’s Day
I went out early to wander around the streets
at dawn, looked at the allotments
in the cold night
that eventually gave a glimpse of the new day.
I thought we could make
something together:
shall we invent a cloud
of fire? Shall we divert the course of a river?
Shall we bring down mountains? Shall we stop the sea?
The mute flowers of another
garden will perhaps
turn into words for me.
This is the first
day of the year:
I’ll give you the two books
I’ve bought for you.
In a coffee shop
I'll carefully
dedicate them to you.
And afterwards we’ll have a drink together.
Joan Vinyoli, ‘Ara que és tard’ (1975).