Viaxe a Escocia (gl – en)

Paseei á sombra das nogueiras
do castelo de Stirling
e no aparcadoiro traseiro 
da prision do casco vello
onde uns poucos bidueiros novos
cos seus brancos traxes
cumpría condea 

ao entrar nas Terras Altas 
ocupadas por abetos 
acariciamos coas papilas dos ollos
as ondulacións do trigo maduro
dende as cunetas as adelfas de ollos violeta 
espreitaron o noso avance cara ao norte 

aos territorios hacia onde a lingua 
se retirou à procura de refuxio
nos barcos de pesca

á beira do lago Ness
un exercito vencido de formigas voadoras 
deunos un multitudinario recibimiento
fàilte, fàilte!  
tomando sobre a nosa pel 
un pequeno repouso 
na batalla que mantiñan coas andoriñas 
sobre a torre en ruínas 
do castelo de Urchadain

En Inverness lin poemas novos 
en follas amarelas 
e me namorei da última cidade 

chegamos a Eilean Donan 
cando asediada polas algas 
ainda non era illa 
amarrada coa ponte de pedra 
engalanada de bagas vermellas 
da árbore de rowan

adentrándonos en Skye
casas brancas tellados de lousa negra
colonizando esta natureza sobrecolledora
refuxios quentes fronte ao clima rudo
ata o porto colorido de Rìg 
onde a descarga 
de bois e langostinos
fíxonos sentir de volta
no fogar:
xente dura do mar
língua agonizante
pobos do fin do mundo

Trip to Scotland

I strolled in the shade of the walnut trees
of Stirling Castle
and in the back parking lot
of the Old Town Jail 
where a few young birches
with their white suits
were serving a sentence

upon entering the Highlands
occupied by firs
we caress with the papillae of the eyes
the ripples of ripe wheat
from the roadside the violet-eyed willowherbs
spied our advance to the north

to the territories where the language
withdrew to seek refuge
on fishing boats

by Loch Ness
a vanquished army of flying ants
gave us a massive reception
fàilte, fàilte!
taking over our skin
a little rest
in the battle they had with the swallows
over the ruined tower
of Urquhart Castle

In Inverness I read new poems
in yellow leaves
and fell in love with the last city

we reached Eilean Donan
when besieged by algae
It wasn't an island yet
tied by the stone bridge
decorated with red berries
of the rowan tree

on entering Skye
white houses with black slate roofs
colonizing this overwhelming nature
warm shelters against harsh weather
we moved forward to the colorful Portree
where the unloading 
of brown crabs and langoustines
made us feel back
at home:
tough sea people
dying language 
world end’s peoples