Thirst Poem by Montserrat Abelló i Soler

Thirst
I know what it is like.
how I felt it
in that street -where standing
in front of a door, they said:
"We know nothing"

And that coming and going,
as usual,
but with that thirst1

A quenchless thirst,
for water.
A clogging thirst that dried up
one's mouth
one day after another.

How many times
had I heard those words that,
on considering them,
seemed to me empty.

Thirst,
I imagined being for water

And now I can say that
this other kind of thirst
so deep and demanding
is also for water

Translated by the author