People change and smile, but the agony abides.
T.S. Eliot

I have walked the fields to Son Bou
and I have seen gullies scoring the face of Llucalquelba
Under a generous sky perfumed with pistachio blossoms
the fig trees drop their fruit to the earth
Across the green valley of Es Bec in Ses Canessies
Son Boter descends to a sea of deep turquoise
Rootless birds, banished from ancient dunes
I covet this land that was always ours
People throw cans and sewage into the canals
I cloister myself in the night of Sa Rocassa and sing
with love all that survives of this ruined island
adored with the broken heart of a prodigal son
Already there are no seals in the crags of Fornells
All the coves are full of bars and walls
The Greek light is tainted with asphalt eruptions
The language I write is not spoken even by the dead

Translated from Catalan by Clyde Andrew Moneyhun