HELÈNIC GLAUC ( helenicglauc@gmail.com )

Journal from Catalunya

Cala d'Oques

A bunker on dunes, near of the pines and the sea's water.
A freedom's space where everybody can swim naked or dressed, as everybody wants. Silence dressed in wave's roar.
Sand with wave's wind drawn.
Mediterranian sea.
This is Cala d'Oques.

Camping Cala d'Oques




Drops of blue brightness,
sprinkling from sky's cloudless sphere.
Figleaves and burning bunches,
drawing hanging grapes over red and hot land.
Buzzing of bees in the sticky sultriness, and the silence of august.
Flowers stem with wrinkled beards.
And me, when I was a child,
searching birds eggs in nests.
The sea, near...
as the palm of one's hand receiving me
I deliver myself wholly to this blue and wide hand,
because I want, because I feel I must do it.
A clay's jug overflowing...
water with a land flavour...
freshness of old and white house.

Helènic Glauc

Naturist nudism (When nudeness doesn't mean sex)
I invite you to read a new translation of a Catalan article about nudeness.
I hope you like.

Naturist nudism (when nudeness doesn't mean sex)

About Catalunya
To all the visitors who don't know Catalunya:
I belongs to a little country of Europe which hasn't own state. This country is Catalunya, its language is Catalan. We're six million people.
You can hear to great musician Pau Casals in the ONU speaking about Catalunya in 1971:

Pau Casals


This is a short story that I wrote in catalan some time ago.
You can read it in catalan in the next link:

"Cançó trista de la carretera"

This story is also edited in a book "10x10 Microrelats". This book was edited by "La Quàdriga" and it contains stories hung in www.relatsencatala.cat.
I hope, grateful, your corrections and opinions.


Jerry have never picked up such a young hitch-hiker.
-Where do you go?
A swarm of fanciful freckles surrounded her nose; her hair was red; her eyes were blue; her face, pale.
-What's your name?
They stopped in a petrol station.
And old man approached them.
-Do you go to the west?
-To Sacramento.
-The motor coach has gone away without me, and I haven't enough money for the motel.
The Chevrolet raced along the desert road. Wind spun crowded branches, as they were strange balls. By nightfall, landscape became phosphorescent.
-What do you do, Jerry? –Eileen asked.
-I'm a manager.
-I'm an actress.
Suddenly, the vault of sky dyed in red-hot, wind stopped, flatness got covered in orange light.
-My God! –Eileen exclaimed, gazing at horizon.
-Indescribable. -the old man added.
They leaved the car and went deep into the desert. They sat on the rough ground. The old man took out a mouth organ and played a Willy Nelson's melody.
-You know? –Jerry said, scratching head -. I've been untruthful. I've lost my job, my wife has left me and I don't know where I go.
-I haven't told the truth either -Eileen said -. I've run away from home.
-Well... my daughter have deserted me in the petrol station -the old man explained, with his eyes opened as dishes.
Some instants, full of uncertainty, went by, and then they started to laugh like sillies.
-And now...? –asked Jerry.
-Let's play another song... –said the old man.
Red light of sky was toning down, while nostalgia covered wilderness.


This is a poem that I wrote some years ago. It is hung in www.relatsencatala.cat
I've also posted its translation to english. I beg you pardon for my weak english.
I hope you like it.


Retrobem els camins que flairen llenya,

els sons de les cançons de sempre,
la suor del joc,
la llum del lloc,
el somriure.
Retrobem el pas sublim de la llibertat,
foragitem la por,
la negritud i la venjança.
Gaudim de l’oblit com qui neix ara.
Esquincem-nos els vestits,
guarnim-nos de fang i d’herbes.
Admirem l’heura enfiladissa
que abilla la façana rònega de la casa vella
i juguem a fet i amagar pel seu jardí.
Cerquem petons fugissers amagats entre ombres.
Adormim-nos en un llit suau i gegantí,
sense pensar en res.


Lets find again paths which smell to coals
sound of usual songs
game's sweat
place's light
Lets find again the sublime step of freedom
We must expel fears
darkness and revenge
Lets enjoy oblivion
as the man who is born now.
Lets rip clothes
and dress in mood and grass
Lets admire rambling ivy
which  endow ruinous  old house's front
and let's play hide-and-seek in its garden.
Lets search fleeing kisses hidden between shadows.
Lets sleep in a soft and gigantic bed
without thoughts.

Jeremias Soler

This is my first post. I just learning how to work with livejournal. I'm sure I soon hang a lot of interesting works... I hope... Greetings to everybody!!!

By now I invite you to my Catalan Blog:

Helènic Glauc


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