3 febrero 2011

 In the middle of the night

voices of winds talked in my head,

I feel them scream and shout, naughty

the calm ones, talking

about traditions of Catalonia.

And their music of ancient gods

go ahead with their trend.

Even my hair and my skin

is electrified by their force.

No one can stop them.

Playing with all they find

like goblins who can’t rest

they push up branches and leaves.

Pla, our writer describe them,

eight winds of the land.

Playing to death with their