He de pagar el meu vell preu, la mort,

Salvador Espriu, the humble Barcelona lawyer’s clerk, allows himself a moment in the limelight in this poem by putting his own name in the title. But the tone is more valedictory than celebratory, the poet is recording his feelings of approaching death (real or imagined, I do not know…)

SENTIT A LA MANERA DE SALVADOR ESPRIU

He de pagar el meu vell preu, la mort,
i avui els ulls se’m cansen de la llum.
Baixats amb mancament tots els graons,
m’endinsen pel domini de la nit.
Silenciós, m’alço rei de la nit
i em sé servent dels homes de dolor.
Ai, com guiar aquest immens dolor
al clos de les paraules de la nit?
Passen el vent, el triomf, el repòs,
per rengles d’altes flames i d’arquers.
Presoner dels meus morts i del meu nom,
esdevinc mur, jo caminat per mi.
I em perdo i sóc, sense missatge, sol,
enllà del cant, enmig dels oblidats
caiguts amb por, només un somni fosc
del qui sortí dels palaus de la lluna.

From <http://lletra.uoc.edu/especials/folch/espriu.htm&gt;

According to this poem, the price of life is death, and the poet has to pay. His eyes are tired of the light and he feels he is sinking into night’s darkness where he will serve the dark and painful forces of the kig of the night. It is an apocalyptic vision of death where all the triumphs and consolations of life are forgotten and the poet is left alone, lost, without meaning in the dark shadows, a mere remnant of his former, living self.

A dark vision indeed, of death.

The Poetry Dude

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