Plasticidade do destino (gl – en)

Á nacenza tocáronme uns terreos afastados 
Un penedío estéril no que o lobo debuxaba 
as fronteiras durante as suas travesías 
No primeiro impulso saíu un laio 
Devólveme a ti, é desolación aquí afora! 

Alí 
Aprendín os nomes das distíntas formas da materia 
Xogando co luar nas láminas de mica do granito 
Na aridez soñaba co roxo veludo do trigo 
Ondeando so os dedos rebuldeiros do vento 
Mais só medraban naquel ermo frío 
Carballuzos isolados nos que o corvo 
Ensaiaba as suas gamas monótonas 

Os oficios dispúñanse arredor da cantaría 
Así que me adiquei a picar naquela pedra 
E aínda que se me deu ben 
O ver as formacións cristalinas 
Que tan fácilmente arrincaban os outros 
Sentín envexa e maldecía decote a area amarela 
Único produto do meu esforzo 
Podería ter parado a tarefa 
adicarme de cheo a chorar a desgraza 
Houbera xerado un lago salgado 
Onde as pingas da chuvia 
Loubasen o ceo co seu repenicar 

Non tiven constancia no pranto 
seguín picando ate crear un areal inmenso 
Que chamou polo mar coas palabras melosas 
Que só os amantes saben murmurar 
Ata que unha tarde sentín 
Nos meus pés cubertos de area 
A auga fría do oceano que, sen eu sabelo 
respondera á constancia do meu labor


... 

Fate plasticity

At birth I was allocated with a distant plot 
A barren stony ground on which the wolf drew 
The borders during its long wanders 
At the first impulse arise a moan 
Take me back to you, it's desolation out here! 

There 
I learned the names of the different forms of the matter 
Playing with the moonlight on sheets of mica held in the granite 
In the aridity I dreamed of the blond velvet of wheat 
Waving under the playful fingers of the wind 
But in that cold wilderness only grew 
Isolated twisted oak trees in which the crow 
Rehearsed its monotonous scales 

The occupations were organized around the stonework. 
So I set about chipping away at that rock 
And even if I was good at it 
Seeing the crystalline formations extracted by others 
I was envious and cursed the yellow sand 
Only product of my effort 
I could have stopped the task 
Dedicated myself full time 
To mourning the misfortune 
A salty lake would have been created
where raindrops would praise 
The sky with their tapping 

I did not have constancy with the tears 
I went on breaking stones until an immense sandy area 
was built calling for the sea with honeyed words 
that only lovers know how to whisper 
until one afternoon I felt in my feet covered with sand 
the cold water of the ocean, which, unbeknownst to me 
had responded to the constancy of my work 

...