a dor era unha porta coa que me aplastaba os dedos
unha e outra vez volvía pechala con forza sen retirar a man
buscando acabar coa dor derrubei esa casa maldita
levantei outra e fixen a posta de non porlle portas
acabouse a dor? xa vivo por fin feliz?
agora aplasto os dedos cada vez que pecho unha ventá
penso en volver derrubar esta outra e erguer
unha nova sen portas nin ventás e de paso sen nada que se mova
ou poida facer dano, sen cociña na que o lume me queime
sen enchufes, nin lámpadas, sen coitelas, nin electrodomésticos
sen espacio para camiñar e ter a oportunidade de tropezar
e cair e abrir a cabeza
só se me ocorre un espazo reducido acolchado por dentro
do tamaño dun ataúde, aí seguro a dor non atoparía
fenda pola que cravarme na carne os seus dentes de rata,
e me preparo e me estiro e poño as mans cruzadas sobre o ventre
disposto xa a disfrutar da ausencia de sufrimento
que me agarda aí dentro do meu cadaleito indoloro
rodeado polas moles paredes de tafetán branco.
pain absence
the pain was a door with which I crushed my fingers
over and over again I slammed it tightly without withdrawing my hand
looking to end the pain I demolished that damn house
I erected another and on purpose did not put doors on it
is the pain over? eventually, do I already live happily?
now I crush my fingers every time I close a window
I think about demolish this current house again and build
a new one without doors or windows and while I'm at it, with nothing that moves
or may cause harm, no stove in which the fire burns me
no plugs or lamps, no blades, no appliances
no space to walk and have a chance to stumble
and fall and hurt your head
I can only think of a small space padded inside
the size of a coffin, there surely the pain would not find
crack through which to sint its rat teeth into my flesh,
and I get ready and stretch myself and put my hands folded on my belly
willing already to enjoy the absence of suffering
waiting for me inside my painless casket
surrounded by the soft walls of white taffeta
abel abilheira 