Dou a volta (gl – en)

dou a volta e estou nun cuarto de paredes brancas 
con buratos onde estiveran os ganchos dos cadros 
e na pintura marcas de mobles retirados
a ventá que queda non ten cortinas 
nin barra de cortina, nin persiana, nin estores

cando dei a volta xa non estaban os libros
que constituiran a plataforma 
sobre a que vivira deitado 

dei a volta e xa marchara o tren, o andén 
baleiro e frío cheirando a pastillas de freo queimadas
un ambiente inhóspito sen as condicións 
adecuadas para a vida humana 

pola única ventá que queda sen tapiar 
só se ve a luz dun burato negro 
cara abaixo porén destacan os meus pes 
descalzos sucios de terra sobre a baldosa lisa 
alí comezara todo, iso si podo lembralo 
mesmo se xa non serve de moito

entra alguén, unha muller, e deixa sobre a repisa 
da ventá unha cunca de infusión amarga xa fría
os meus dedos enrédanse no cabelo 
mentres miro fixamente unha xunta do chan 
aínda nesta altura á procura da relaxante perfección

non imaxinei que correr atrás da morte 
ía ser castigado co desterro neste ermo

I turn around

I turn around and find myself in a room with white walls with holes where the canvas hooks had been and in the wall paint, marks of removed furniture, the remaining window has no curtains no curtain rod, no blinds, no shutters

when I turned around, the books that had made up the platform on which I had lived lying down were gone

I turned around and the train had already left, the platform empty and cold smelling of burned brake pads an inhospitable environment without the proper conditions for human life

through the only window that is not bricked up, only the light of a black hole can be seen, downwards, however, my dirty bare feet stand out on the smooth tile, that’s where it all started, I can remember that, even if it’s no longer of much use

someone comes in, a woman, and leaves a cup of already cold bitter brew on the windowsill, my fingers tangle in my hair as I stare at a floor joint, still at this point in search of relaxing perfection

I didn’t imagine that running after death would be punished with exile in this wilderness