Vacacións (gl – en)

Consigo facer que corran as horas
Mentres meu corpo se quenta
Como as morsas do documental
Abandoado á carícia áspera da area
A través das pálpebras baixadas
Invade o sol os recunchos escuros 
de chapapote

Baixo as pólas da ameixeira 
Logo de ter arrincado as herbas
Festexan os rabirrubios a nosa volta 
Peteirando nas taboas que cobren 
a terra

Afora as malas herbas 
Desbrozadora e cortacéspede
Adentro a guerra silandeira
contra a couza e os ratos
Canning Town na outra punta 
do planeta

Apreciase a fina capa de area levantada
Polo vento para me acariñar o costado 
As ondas fan cola por ver os meus chimpos
Con abonda escuma branca celebran
o retorno do cetáceo pródigo á casa 
da nai océana

Holidays

I manage to make the hours go by
As my body warms up
Like the walruses in the documentary
Abandoned to the rough caress of the sand
Through lowered eyelids
The sun invades dark corners 
of tar

Under the branches of the plum tree 
After having plucked the weeds
The redstarts celebrate our return 
Pecking the boards laid 
on the earth

Outside the weeds
Brush cutter and lawnmower
Inside the silent war
Against bedbugs and mice
Canning Town at the other end 
of the planet

I spot the thin layer of sand raised 
By the wind to caress my side 
The waves line up to witness my jumps
They celebrate with plenty of white foam
The return of the prodigal cetacean to the home 
of mother ocean