Rural Guesthouse - Espai Màrius Torres
Hostal Rural Mas Blanc, Marius Torres Space
Màrius Torres Space
Within the facilities of the Mas Blanc rural inn, we have a space dedicated to the poet Màrius Torres, since in a time of his life he made punctual stays in the Mas Blanc.
The space dedicated to the poet, is the old dunghill of the farmhouse, as the Mas Blanc was formerly a manor house.
Later, this farmhouse became a manor house owned by the Planas family, where both families, the Planas and Torres, had knowledge of each other, and that is why the poet stayed here.
Later, this old dunghill became the garage of the farm's owners, located in the eastern part of the main farmhouse.
From now on it is a space dedicated to the poet, where you can find photographs, poems and books,
This project arose due to the numerous visits of hikers, followers of the poet and the literary route there.
We were able to carry it out, from the management of Mas Blanc, with the help of the city council of Sant Martí de Centelles, the Diputació de Barcelona, the Chair Màrius Torres, among other entities, academics and scholars of the life and work of the poet.
The space dedicated to the poet, is the old dunghill of the farmhouse, as the Mas Blanc was formerly a manor house.
Later, this farmhouse became a manor house owned by the Planas family, where both families, the Planas and Torres, had knowledge of each other, and that is why the poet stayed here.
Later, this old dunghill became the garage of the farm's owners, located in the eastern part of the main farmhouse.
From now on it is a space dedicated to the poet, where you can find photographs, poems and books,
This project arose due to the numerous visits of hikers, followers of the poet and the literary route there.
We were able to carry it out, from the management of Mas Blanc, with the help of the city council of Sant Martí de Centelles, the Diputació de Barcelona, the Chair Màrius Torres, among other entities, academics and scholars of the life and work of the poet.
Biography
Màrius Torres y Pereña was born in Lleida on August 30, 1910 into a wealthy and cultivated family. His father, Humbert Torres, was a doctor and also held several political posts: mayor of Lleida, member of the Spanish Parliament and vice-president of the Parliament of Catalonia. Mario, the eldest of three brothers, felt very identified with his family, but especially with his father. From 1920 to 1926 he studied high school at the Liceo Escolar de Lleida and, once finished, he hesitated between two careers, Architecture and Medicine, but finally decided on the latter, which was traditional in the family. In 1933, he returned to Lleida and specialized in diseases of the digestive system, where he worked as an internist.
In 1935 he fell ill with a flu that later became complicated and he had to take a vacation in order to be able to recover. The disease, however, responded with more intensity and by December of that same year he had to be transferred to the antituberculosis sanatorium of Puigdolena, from where he would not leave for the seven years that remained of his life.
During these seven years at Puig De Olena, Mas Blanc was his refuge to free himself from the restrictions of the sanatorium and to recover from the aggravation of the disease. These stays took place during the years 1940-1942, Màrius wrote poems, letters to family and friends, it was an ideal place to have personal and very intense moments.
Finally, he died in Sant Quirze de Safaja on December 29, 1942, on a snowy day.
In 1935 he fell ill with a flu that later became complicated and he had to take a vacation in order to be able to recover. The disease, however, responded with more intensity and by December of that same year he had to be transferred to the antituberculosis sanatorium of Puigdolena, from where he would not leave for the seven years that remained of his life.
During these seven years at Puig De Olena, Mas Blanc was his refuge to free himself from the restrictions of the sanatorium and to recover from the aggravation of the disease. These stays took place during the years 1940-1942, Màrius wrote poems, letters to family and friends, it was an ideal place to have personal and very intense moments.
Finally, he died in Sant Quirze de Safaja on December 29, 1942, on a snowy day.
Information and reservations
Book an appointment in advance for the visit:
Guided tour: book at least 4-5 days in advance
Hostal Rural Mas Blanc 93 844 24 67 - 601 600 690
Prices of the visit:
5 € per person for groups between 1 and 15 people
4 € per person for groups between 16 and 30 people
3 € per person for groups of more than 30 people
Children under 10 years of age accompanied by responsible adults will be exempt from payment, except in the case of school groups.
Some Poems
An Other April
Like a secret water that, far from the roads,
to any gesture of Narcís will not act as a sepulchre,
useless to the conreus, to the keys, to the gardens,
opposing to the light that she does not carry inside
around a silent and neat sheet,
is my sadness. Ample mirall fidel
through which the world shines with less weight than a shadows
between me and that other great parallel viewpoint
of the sky, where they destroy, each one a yearning,
the birds, the birds - the nameless souls.
Like a secret water changes its color
with the reflection that the aura gives to the passing instant:
blava, els matins d'hivern, de glaç en fusió;
dark and full of dreams on late afternoons,
and the migdies of summer, full and lassoed;
now, in the spring, when winter is blue,
there is a light equal to the landscape in it.
The golden moons know secrets of peace,
and the capaltard arrives with a blue so soft
that each tear was the image of a star
in a secret water. A torb, but only,
would faria buida i orba la seva pregonesa
tèrbola, sota cels terribles i propers...
April that makes the roses and weepers bloom,
give clear days to my sadness!
April of 1938
to any gesture of Narcís will not act as a sepulchre,
useless to the conreus, to the keys, to the gardens,
opposing to the light that she does not carry inside
around a silent and neat sheet,
is my sadness. Ample mirall fidel
through which the world shines with less weight than a shadows
between me and that other great parallel viewpoint
of the sky, where they destroy, each one a yearning,
the birds, the birds - the nameless souls.
Like a secret water changes its color
with the reflection that the aura gives to the passing instant:
blava, els matins d'hivern, de glaç en fusió;
dark and full of dreams on late afternoons,
and the migdies of summer, full and lassoed;
now, in the spring, when winter is blue,
there is a light equal to the landscape in it.
The golden moons know secrets of peace,
and the capaltard arrives with a blue so soft
that each tear was the image of a star
in a secret water. A torb, but only,
would faria buida i orba la seva pregonesa
tèrbola, sota cels terribles i propers...
April that makes the roses and weepers bloom,
give clear days to my sadness!
April of 1938
Anniversari
That in my years the joy may come again
without erasing any scar of the spirit.
O stop of the night, of the sea and of the silence,
i want peace - but I don't want oblivion.
Mas Blanc, September 1, 1942