Joan Maragall – ‘The Most Marvellous Thing…’

Joan Maragall is a name you’re unlikely to be familiar with if you’re not Catalan. Yet read on just a little, and I think in this century-old Catalan poet, you might find some familiar traits and recognisable desires.

Barcelona, 1860, and Joan Maragall i Gorina is born into a family of wealthy textile merchants. He grows and quickly becomes initiated into the life and customs of the Barcelona bourgeoisie, the powerful, the wealthy, the cultured strata of Catalan society. His privileged position frees him to foster and pursue a growing passion for writing. Is this still the case today, or has capitalism democratised culture and creativity? Hmm, discuss!


Maragall’s bourgeois upbringing is critical in developing his writing style, for a simple reason: he finds it lacking. Surrounded by safety, by comfort and an unimaginative, conservative conformity, Maragall feels stifled and smothered by the stultifying stew of ‘high society’. Though later in life he will turn and point an accusing finger at the privileged classes, initially he sees himself as an inner agitator, stirring to life a somnambulant and indifferent goliath toward a dynamic, cosmopolitan ideology.

All through his life Maragall will feel proud of his homeland, and identify with Catalan nationalism. Having studied law at University it is only to be expected that this wealthy, educated nationalist will accept calls to join the Catalan parliament, the Generalitat. But he doesn’t (incidentally his grandson, Pasqual Maragall, did enter politics, becoming President of the Generalitat from 2003-2006). For Maragall, there is another way of changing the current order of things, and it lies not in the cold, hard power of politics, but in the more subtle and personal – but no less powerful – form of the ‘living word’.


Words, claims Maragall, have a life force. They are not merely marks on paper (or type on tablets, in 21st century speak, sigh…) but are linguistic expressions of an individual’s being. Therefore the more fervently the poet, the novelist or the journalist expends themselves in their writing the greater punch their words will pack. You might call it ‘writing from the heart’. But what message is Maragall trying to get across? Take a look at what he says here in these quotes, then have a read of one of his poems on Project Poesia (see sidebar):

“I believe that the word is the most marvellous thing in this world, because in her are embraced and entangled all corporeal wonder and all spiritual wonder of our nature. It seems that the earth expends all its efforts in leading mankind to a higher sense of itself; and mankind expends all the strength of his being in producing the word.”

– From Elogi de la paraula (Praise of the word)1903

What do you think? Personally I think his poems are beautifully in-sync with what he wrote above. The words of Pirinenques and La Fageda d’en Jordà are infused, even saturated, with the spiritual. Not the ‘religious’, I hasten to add, but filled with a hunger for and awareness of a transcendental reality, of something ‘more’ beyond.

La Fageda d'en Jordà (Ben Wright 2013)
La Fageda d’en Jordà (Ben Wright 2013)

Tantalizingly close, but ever just beyond our reach, in Maragall’s poems it is in Nature that we come closest to this other reality. In the natural, the wild and the wondrous places we find a beauty, a purity and a stillness that stirs us to feel as close as we can to that something other. Feeling is key for Maragall. Introspection can only take us so far towards true self-recognition. For this, we need experience, we need to go out there and experience sublime nature with all five senses (and maybe some others we don’t have names for).

When we experience this – and describing what ‘this’ is, is the fuel for myriad poems – we are spoken to in something other than mere physical sensation. Seek that! – Maragall cries through all his living words of poetry – Hold on to that unexplainable life society tells you is imagined, that inexplicable voice they say is just in your head…

It could just be the most real thing you ever know.


Click here to see a more detailed biography of Maragall (in Catalan) and some beautiful old photographs of the man himself. 

‘Pirinenques’ (I) – by Joan Maragall

Info: This poem is the first in a sequence of poems about the Pyrenees (the mountain range running along the border of France and Spain) collectively called ‘Pirinenques’, roughly meaning ‘Poems of the Pyrenees’.



High in the Pyrenees
the flowers are drained with pallor,
the flowers are of weakened blue,
and tinged with bruised colour:
sad ones of the high mounts
are they, the shrouded crests,
and sad so too the herds
across the meadows spread,
so too is the upright shepherd
a figure of loneliness.
And the enfeebled sun
brings forth no heat, is colourless;
the forest wretched and woody,
and the grass short and ashen;
rocky and dismal grey
the peaks of those mountains,
all enveloped in snow
of eternal white patches,
and billowing around
the mist runs and passes.
At dusk, from within the valleys
the mist begins to rise,
and with its blanketing cover
goes solemnly up the mountain side.

Joan Maragall (1860-1911)


 Original Catalan Text


A dalt del Pirineu
les flors són esblaimades,
les flors són d’un blau clar,
blavoses o morades:
són tristes dels alts monts
les crestes emboirades,
i tristos els ramats
estesos per les prades,
i la del dret pastor
figura solitària.
El sol esblanqueït
no treu color ni escalfa;
el bosc mesquí i llenyós,
i l’herba curta i clara:
pedrosos i grisencs
els cims de les muntanyes,
tots ditejats de neu
d’eternes clapes blanques,
i fumejant arreu
la boira corre i passa.
Al tard, de dins les valls
la boira va aixecant-se,
i amb ella emmantellant
se va solemnement l’alta muntanya.
(Text sourced from

The Beechwood of Jordà – by Joan Maragall

(To help you along with the rhymes, ‘Jordà’ is pronounced ‘jor-DAH’)


‘The Beechwood of Jordà’

Do you know where to find the beechwood of Jordà?
In the heights of Olot, above the plain so far,
you will find a place the deepest of green
the like of which nowhere else shall be seen:
a green of deep clarity like water’s own heart;
the green of the beechwood of Jordà.
The walker, when entering in to that place,
begins there to walk at a slow, solemn pace;
and counting his steps in the still majesty:
he pauses, and hears nothing, and then lost is he.
From the world beyond he takes the sweetest of sleep
in the silence of that place so deep,
and of flight he thinks not, from escape his thoughts are far:
prisoner is he of the beechwood of Jordà,
captive to the silence and dark greenery.
Oh companion! Oh prison that makes one free!

Joan Maragall (1860-1911)



Original Catalan Text

La fageda d’en Jordà

Saps on és la fageda d’en Jordà?
Si vas pels vols d’Olot, amunt del pla,
trobaràs un indret verd i profond
com mai cap més n’hagis trobat al món:
un verd com d’aigua endins, profond i clar;
el verd de la fageda d’en Jordà.
El caminant, quan entra en aquest lloc,
comença a caminar-hi a poc a poc;
compta els seus passos en la gran quietud:
s’atura, i no sent res, i està perdut.
Li agafa un dolç oblit de tot lo món
en el silenci d’aquell lloc profond,
i no pensa en sortir, o hi pensa en va:
és pres de la fageda d’en Jordà,
presoner del silenci i la verdor.
Oh companyia! Oh deslliurant presó!
 (Text sourced from