LOVE WILL TEAR US APART AGAIN. Laura Sala. When you're in love you take him by the hand and dance in the middle of the

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Allison Amie Marsh
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Translations into English and French of a few texts laid in our Clothesline of Dreams LOVE WILL TEAR US APART AGAIN Laura Sala When you're in love you take him by the hand and

And if you dream, is real. Nothing is better than your life. When you're not in love you raise your hand and dance in the hallway of the house.

1 Translations into English and French of a few texts laid in our Clothesline of Dreams LOVE WILL TEAR US APART AGAIN Laura Sala When you're in love you take him by the hand and dance in the middle of the stage. You walk in heels and not run. You feel the belly tickled and your eyes moisten when talking. Sleep on your side and hardly dream. And if you dream, is real. Nothing is better than your life. When you're not in love you raise your hand and dance in the hallway of the house. You walk with flip flops and run barefoot. Feel the crunch of your belly and you close your eyes when listening. Sleep on the other side and dream a lot. And what you dream is not real. Nothing is better than your dream. 1

2 LIFE COLOURS Laura Sala You say yes and I decide we go out it's all grey asphalt pavements grey light grey falling night that arrives we enter the portal and is green the stair handrail that leads us to our floor green the doormat green the doorbell we went to the red balcony red lounger red daisy red candle red the sun behind the moon or in front of red sky red clouds we come in yellow dinner the pan your shirt yellow my bracelet yellow pepper tomato kiwi yellow dish vinaigrette we dinner smells rose you give me a rose I paint my lips rose I prop my feet rose roses my cheeks your nose with sneezing rose the cushion, bedspread, tablecloth you bring me up roses your kisses black the night hugging us and white all words that keep us warm. ALZHEIMER Joan Serra i Malla You'll never wake up from the long sleepless night. 2

3 NO TITLE Marisa Olivera The sky had no special colour nor children played cheerful nor any birds offered their songs nor flowers glittered healthy nor people walked happy on the streets nor shop-windows showed any attractive objects nor coffee shops let go any good aroma nor trees looked green nor the air was smooth or clear nor the sun warmed at all... When I awaked you were embracing me under the comfortable bed sheets illuminated by an opioid dawn light. The radio, which had remained on overnight, was constantly repeating the last news about Aphghanistan. 3

4 THE DREAM Elena Fora The dream, within consciousness, as subtle white fabric, between the folds of illusion, sleeps in the closet that locks it. Awakes limpid, polished... takes the form of an "Estelada" (Catalan independence's flag) to have the desired dream wave into the balcony. Fragrances of freedom spread at daybreak, and new ideals soak the essence of Catalonia's national day. Oh fearsome threat caused by the wind! If it frightens our people, hope is undermined. 4

5 The ancient language chiselled into the spirit like history and culture, doesn't want to be devastated again. Once mended the rips, excellence patched, will defend its rights resisting the hailstorm. The dreams, interwoven, built the balustrade that crossed the country from one region to the other. 5

6 REVE M Teresa Malagelada. B A travers le tissu, je sentais le toucher froid du vent collé au corps. Mes jambes allaient à pas de géant, elles me portaient sur une avenue bordée d arbres, je courrais, sautais, je dépassais tous qui me suivaient. Je faisais un grand bond, énorme, et mes pieds m élevaient du sol par dessus les têtes vertes, puis, les maisons, les toits, couronnés de linge, et encore plus loin, jusqu'à ce que le paysage devenait invisible. Poussé comme une plume, je tombais sur une couche de nuages enfermée dans une ligne bleue c était peut- être la mer je n en voyais pas la fin, parce que une lumière éblouissante m aveuglait. Au petit matin, la lumière du soleil vient de ma fenêtre. Et moi, éveillé, je crains ouvrir les yeux. Je lève les draps, je cherche mes jambes. Elles sont molles, inertes. Au pied du lit, le fauteuil roulant toujours là. 6

7 THE END Josep Maria Oller We were enjoying a sunny day in the beach. Suddenly, a dark line appeared in the horizon growing bigger, a threatening black wall, getting closer and closer. The children left their toy rakes and buckets, mother faces turned to a livid pale looking to the menacing line, while men ran aimlessly like headless chicken; soon, a human tide ran up the hill desperately to get off the disaster while the water wall grew larger every moment; it was already on our heels, much bigger than we had thought, black and cool. We kept climbing up to salvation, without looking back; once on the top, we looked down for the first time and could see a grey lonely sea, where the sunny beach full of colorful umbrellas had been ; water had taken it all. A strong, salty scent penetrated everything, water had come up almost to the level the few of us who could escape had reached. My wife, at my side, breathless after the tremendous run; survivors looked each other terrorized and speechless. There was there an enormous ship strangely anchored on the earth, like old greek vessels used to do, like a modern Noah s Arc that nobody had noticed before. We looked each other astonished, thinking in the many that had drought, and we didn t understand; a wasteland of lead lay before us all the width we could reach with the eyes; meanwhile, a new black funnel-shaped condensation was forming in the East and came to us; we rushed into the vessel rolling down through a winding stairs leading to the ship s inner heart; we would be safer inside. There was a moment of high tension, we could hear people s accelerated breath and 7

8 irregular beating, like uncontrolled hammer strokes; fear took possession of us. I took my wife s trembling hands motionless, drowned in total darkness. We felt a jerk in one side; the ship seemed to have touched a cement wall; it staggered and we heard the gloomy cry of the tornado that had already got us. In a moment, water began to pour from everywhere; soon I was submerged in a cool, turbid liquid, salt loaded and I understood that it was necessary to swim up, up to the air. I took my wife hands and pulled her up with me, guided by an iron stair that ran up the wall, unable to breathe, undoing upwards what we had done before downstairs, up, up, moving arms and legs desperately. I couldn t breath, my lungs were bound to blow up any moment, only a little more, I could already see the light close-by, finally, with a last supreme effort, I got my head out in free air. I felt an unbearable pain in my chest, cramps in arms and legs, extreme affliction in my soul. Where is my wife? But the nightmare had just began; water receded leaving the ship deck full of mutilated, crying people; a lot were buried inside the bowels of that mournful Troian horse. Then, I saw my wife, eyes wide open, looking at me asking for a reason for it all. She threw her arms round my neck, crying and laughing; she had resisted too. We couldn t speak; we just caressed each other to make sure we were alive. We looked up, the sky was darkening again; a new grayish line was forming in the East, bigger, higher than the one before; a column of black air was growing over it slowly taking the shape of a Trumpet of Death. We were worn out unable to escape and humbly commited to Gods protection. Why did they punish us with such severity? What had we done against their designs? 8

We re in the home stretch! my mother called as we swooshed through the

GRACE Christian School Elle Robinson 6th Grade Short Story The Hunters We re in the home stretch! my mother called as we swooshed through the azure sky, almost touching the clouds. Whooshing past my brother,