For three nights now, I’ve been going back
to the smoky bar where I first met her.
There, at the counter, downing my drink
I waited for her into the small hours,
but the only company I had
was three down-and-outs.
I spent just one night with her
and I don’t I know if I’ll have another.
Love these days, is that how it is, Troop?
Waiting in vain, and ending up with three drunks?
I thought the world was my oyster,
but, you see, I’m just like everyone else.
Being a dreamer doesn’t help me much.
Can’t get that girl. Can’t write that great poem about love.
–Translated from the Catalan by Ruth Murray