Elas, a substancia

Como un can rasco coas uñas no chan duro 
Escarvo á procura dun cabo de mecha 
dun pequeno cacho de corda miúda
por onde poder volverme atar á vida
tirar del cos dentes ata esgotar os recursos

Naveguei na éxtase húmida das suores
absorbendo na miña pel o sal de cada ninfa 
integrei no organismo as pegadas dos seus dedos
o alento doce e cálido dos seus beizos 

As mans logo da xornada de traballo, elas 
apuran para acudir antes da hora de peche
os dedos prenden unha vela ao carón 
do sacos de ósos, das cinsas de tres xeracións 
e nesta feble chama tremeluce a persistencia do clan 
arrolada no colo e no peito das mulleres

No bosque das miñas lembranzas
acariñando a copa das árbores frías
o vento zoa vagamente a melodía dos xemidos
o corpo aínda reacio a voltarse 
unha tarefa máis das mulleres 
á espera da pequena luz que marque
a sua eterna pertenza ao enxamio

The women, the substance

Like a dog scratching with its claws on the hard floor, I poke around in the dirt looking for a wick to pull, for a bunch of small rope where I can tie myself back to life, pull it with my teeth until run out of resources

I sailed into the wet ecstasy of sweat, absorbing into my skin the salt of each nymph, I integrated their fingerprints into my organism,  the sweet, warm breath from their lips

Women’s hands after the working day, they rush to come before closing time, fingers light a candle next to the sacks of bones, to the ashes of three generations and in this faint light flickers the persistence of the clan rolled up on women’s laps and chests

In the forest of my memories caressing the tops of the cold trees the wind vaguely plays the melody of moans, the body ‘s still reluctant to become another women’s task, awaiting the tiny flame that marks its eternel belonging to the swarm