{"id":1035,"date":"2019-02-04T10:26:14","date_gmt":"2019-02-04T10:26:14","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/?p=1035"},"modified":"2022-05-30T19:54:54","modified_gmt":"2022-05-30T19:54:54","slug":"afterwards-thomas-hardy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/afterwards-thomas-hardy\/","title":{"rendered":"Afterwards. Thomas Hardy"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay<br \/>\nAnd the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings,<br \/>\nDelicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say,<br \/>\n&#8216;He was a man who used to notice such things&#8217;?<\/p>\n<p>If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid&#8217;s silent blink,<br \/>\nThe dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight<br \/>\nUpon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think,<br \/>\n&#8216;To him this must have been a familiar sight.&#8217;<\/p>\n<p>If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm,<br \/>\nWhen the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn,<br \/>\nOne may say, &#8216;He strove that such innocent creatures should come to no harm,<br \/>\nBut he could do little for them; and now is gone.&#8217;<\/p>\n<p>If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door,<br \/>\nWatching the full-starred heavens that winter sees,<br \/>\nWill this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more,<br \/>\n&#8216;He was one who had an eye for such mysteries&#8217;?<\/p>\n<p>And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom,<br \/>\nAnd a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings,<br \/>\nTill they rise again, as they were a new bell&#8217;s boom,<br \/>\n&#8216;He hears it not now, but used to notice such things&#8217;?<\/p>\n<hr \/>\n<p>Versi\u00f3 de Mari\u00e0 Manent, &#8220;Poesia anglesa i Nordamericana&#8221;<br \/>\nEd. Alpha, 1955<\/p>\n<p>Quan el temps hagi clos el portal del meu estatge insegur,<br \/>\ni les fulloles de maig, brillants i fresques de saba,<br \/>\nbatin com ales de seda, \u00bfdir\u00e0, potser, alg\u00fa:<br \/>\n&#8220;D&#8217;aquestes coses b\u00e9 prou s&#8217;adonava&#8221;?<\/p>\n<p>I si fos cap al tard, quan, lleument com un esguard que es mig clou,<br \/>\nalgun falc\u00f3 de la nit, travessant l&#8217;ombra, venia<br \/>\ndamunt l&#8217;ar\u00e7 ventejat, pensar\u00e0 alg\u00fa: &#8220;Ell b\u00e9 prou<br \/>\nque l&#8217;haur\u00e0 vist cada dia!&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Si el trasp\u00e0s f\u00f3s al cor d&#8217;una nit negra, amb un aire calent,<br \/>\nquan, tot esquiu, l&#8217;eri\u00e7\u00f3 s&#8217;esmuny enll\u00e0 de la prada,<br \/>\n&#8220;Perqu\u00e8 ning\u00fa no els f\u00e9s mal, prou pos\u00e0 for\u00e7a esment,<br \/>\ni ara ja \u00e9s mort, dir\u00e0 alg\u00fa, tal vegada&#8221;.<\/p>\n<p>Si, sabent que a la fi em ve el rep\u00f2s, s\u00f3n a la porta, esguardant<br \/>\nla gran celistia d&#8217;hivern, que la nit fa ampla i pia,<br \/>\npensaran cor endins, els qui mai m\u00e9s no em veuran:<br \/>\n&#8220;Aquests misteris b\u00e9 prou que els sabia!&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>I si escolten el toc de l&#8217;ad\u00e9u, al m\u00e9s pregon de la nit,<br \/>\nquan el vent trenca aquell solent, i pensen que s&#8217;acaba,<br \/>\nper\u00f2 torna m\u00e9s fort, \u00bfdiran amb cor encongit:<br \/>\n&#8220;D&#8217;aquestes coses b\u00e9 prou s&#8217;adonava&#8221;?<\/p>\n<p>Versi\u00f3 de Josep M Jaum\u00e0<\/p>\n<p>Quan el Present haur\u00e0 passat la balda rere el meu tr\u00e8mol viure<br \/>\ni el mes de maig batr\u00e0, content, com ales, les seves fulles<br \/>\ndelicades com seda noufilada, \u00bfdiran els meus ve\u00efns:<br \/>\n&#8220;Era un home que parava atenci\u00f3 en coses aix\u00ed&#8221;?<\/p>\n<p>Si \u00e9s al capvespree quan, com un silent aclucar de parpelles,<br \/>\nve el falc\u00f3, com rosada, entre l&#8217;ombra, a posar<br \/>\nals ar\u00e7os alts vinclats pel vent, potser pensar\u00e0 qui ho miri:<br \/>\n&#8220;Aix\u00f2 devia ser-li una visi\u00f3 familiar.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Si em moro una nit negra, plena d&#8217;insectes, c\u00e0lida,<br \/>\nquan l&#8217;eri\u00e7\u00f3 s&#8217;escorre furtivament pel gesp,<br \/>\npotser dir\u00e0 alg\u00fa: &#8220;Mald\u00e0 perqu\u00e8 aquestes bestioles no sofrissin,<br \/>\nper\u00f2 poc pogu\u00e9 fer per elles; i ara ja no hi \u00e9s.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Si, en sentir que per fi he estat aturat, drets a la porta<br \/>\nguaiten el cel d&#8217;hivern estelat, g\u00e8lid,<br \/>\n\u00bfse&#8217;ls acudir\u00e0 de pensar, als qui no em veuran m\u00e9s el rostre:<br \/>\n&#8220;Era dels qui s&#8217;adonaven d&#8217;aquests misteris&#8221;?<\/p>\n<p>\u00bfI dir\u00e0 alg\u00fa, en sentir el meu toc de comiat en la fosc\u00faria,<br \/>\nsi el travessa la brisa fent una pausa en el repic<br \/>\nfins que resorgeix amb so com de campana nova:<br \/>\n&#8220;Ara no ho sent, per\u00f2 se solia fixar en coses aix\u00ed&#8221;?<\/p>\n<hr \/>\n<p><iframe loading=\"lazy\" width=\"525\" height=\"295\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/lHpFBzCxxyk?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings, Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say, &#8216;He was a man who used to notice such things&#8217;? If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid&#8217;s silent blink, The dewfall-hawk comes &hellip; <\/p>\n<p class=\"link-more\"><a href=\"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/afterwards-thomas-hardy\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading<span class=\"screen-reader-text\"> &#8220;Afterwards. Thomas Hardy&#8221;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[151],"tags":[192,91,570,206],"anotacio":[],"civilitzacio":[],"spec":[],"aspecies":[],"Tema poesia":[159,160],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1035"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1035"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1035\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1035"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1035"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1035"},{"taxonomy":"anotacio","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/anotacio?post=1035"},{"taxonomy":"civilitzacio","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/civilitzacio?post=1035"},{"taxonomy":"spec","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/spec?post=1035"},{"taxonomy":"aspecies","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/aspecies?post=1035"},{"taxonomy":"Tema poesia","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/Tema poesia?post=1035"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}