Day: May 26, 2014

20

  By

Manuel de Pedrolo

The Limit

1955

So far there had been no trail, only the sand filling the four sides of the horizon. It stretched in an endless plain, hardly interrupted by mild dunes, small and still waves that seemed to be fixed, one would say, once and for all. The undulations of that desert resembled the tiles of rooftops. Not a bush, not a tree did break the monotony: the desolation was infinite. All had the quality of an abstract thing, lifeless, ideal. It did not lack some beauty, though; a truly terrible and annihilating beauty.

However, the two explorers advanced. They came from so far away that they could hardly be surprised by the absence of traces; yet, they were a bit surprised, as they knew that extension had at some point been crossed by other adventurous beings. They knew that in one place or another they would end up finding the traces they were looking for. But where? And if they found them, how would they interpret them? They did not ignore the fact that some questions would be raised then. And among them there would be an essential one: where had their precursors departed from?

But it could also be the case that no one, truly no one, had ever ventured to that desert. Then, all the knowledge that had prompted them to start exploring would be false, probably a product of a excessive imagination. But this was not possible, there are things that can not be invented. Someone had to be there at some point.

With their eyes looking down to the floor, they kept on going. Before leaving they had said almost all there was to be said, and now they no longer needed words. No, at least while they were searching.

Above them the sky rested heavily, another boundless desert, an exact replica of the first. A strange light, however, shed from it. A clarity of dawn in its first and shy phase. This did not worry them, a they knew it could not be otherwise. They knew so many things, that their knowledge, all hypothetical at the same time, was almost a handicap. Thus, they expected with joy the opportunity to rectify many of their views. That had been the exact reason to undertake such a painful adventure.

20

  By

Manuel de Pedrolo

El Límit

1955

D’antuvi no hi havia cap mena de rastre, només la sorra omplint els quatre costats de l’horitzó. S’estenia en una planúria inacabable que no interrompien les lleus dunes, petites ones immòbils, fixades, diria’s, una vegada per totes. Aquell desert tenia ondulacions de teulada. Ni un matoll, ni un arbre no en venia a trencar la monotonia: la desolació era infinita. Tot tenia una qualitat de cosa abstracta, mancada de vida, ideal. No li faltava, però, una certa bellesa; una bellesa, es veritat, terrible i anihiladora.

Els dos exploradors però, avançaven. Venien de tant lluny, que gairebé no els podia sorprendre aquella absència de rastres; així i tot, però, els sorprenia una mica. Perquè sabien que aquella extensió havia estat solcada, un dia o altre, per altres éssers agosarats. Sabien que en un lloc o altre acabarien trobant els rastres que cercaven. On però? I si els trobaven, com caldria interpretar-los? No ignoraven que aleshores començarien les preguntrs. I entre elles n’hi hauria una d’essencial: d’on havien partit els precursors?

Però també podia donar-se el cas que ningú, verament ningú, no s’hagués endinsat mai per aquell desert. Aleshores, tots els coneixements que se’n tenien, aquells coneixements que els havien impulsat a explorar-lo, resultarien falsos, producte probablement d’una imaginació desbridada. Però això no era possible, hi ha coses que no es poden inventar. Algú o altre havia d’haver passat per allí.

La vista fita en el sòl, doncs, avançaven. Abans de partir s´havien dit gairebé tot el que calia dir-se, i ara ja no necessitaven paraules. No, almenys, mentre cercaven.

Al llur damunt el cel reposava aplomat, un altre desert sense límits, rèplica exacta del primer. Una lluminositat estranya, però, se’n vessava, una claror d’alba en la seva primera i indecisa fase. Això, però, no els amoïnava gens, sabien que no podia ésser d’altra manera. Sabien tantes coses, que llur coneixement, tot hipotètic d’altra banda, gairebé els feia nosa. Per això esperaven amb certa secreta joia veure’s obligats a rectificar molts dels seus punts de vista. Precisament per rectificar-los havien emprès aquella penosa aventura.