Os poucos días que neva madrugo
antes que esperten os veciños
saio dar un paseo ata o cemiterio
para comprobar se na neve fresca
aparecen as pegadas dos mortos
nas raras ocasións en que xuntan forzas
para se achegaren ao centro de reciclaxe,
do outro lado da rúa, matar o aburrimento
Eu que si podo moverme con liberdade
teño o meu animal despelexado
unha dor vermella de tripas e sangue
amarrada cunha cadea de barco oxidada
á altura das primeiras tumbas
decátome que son miñas as únicas pisadas
e o canto das botas con cada paso
descóbreme que en realidade só queda
liberar e sandar o meu prisioneiro
ou adicarme a rebuscar no lixo alleo
Lullaby of boots in the snow
The few days that it snows, I get up early before the neighbors wake up and go for a walk to the cemetery to check if the footprints of the dead appear in the fresh snow on the rare occasions when they join forces to approach the recycling center to kill the boredom, from across the street,
I, who can move freely, have my skinned animal, a red pain of guts and blood tied with a rusty ship’s chain. Arriving to the first graves I realise that the only footsteps are mine and the sound of boots with each step reveals to me that in reality the only thing left to do is to free and heal my prisoner or devote myself to rummaging through other people’s trash
abel abilheira 