Porto familiar

Aparto os ollos do show que nos une na pantalla do teléfono 

a través dos cristais que comezan a empañarse 

vense as pólas dos pradairos sacudíndose as follas vellas 

Ás veces, unha delas bate no teito do coche e nos asusta 

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O cemiterio, onde van os seus, 

comeza xusto atrás daquela porta de reixa 

Cando chegamos de noite non quere entrar 

xa non ten forzas e as almas necesitadas 

poderían solicitar a sua axuda

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Somos os nómades do mar, ela e eu á deriva 

amarramos no adro desta igrexa familiar

tomamos fiambre con crackers 

mentres miramos programas en diferido 

ao abrigo da fenomenoloxía cotiá

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Familiar Harbour

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I look away from the TV show that unites us on the phone screen 

through the windows starting to fog up 

it can be seen the maple trees branches shaking their old leaves 

Sometimes, one of them hits the car roof and scares us 

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The cemetery, where her people end, begins right behind that barred door 

When we arrive at night, she no longer wants to enter there

The souls in need could ask for her help and she no longer has the strength 

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We are the nomads of the sea, she and I adrift 

We moor to the atrium of this familiar church 

eating ham with crackers while watching pre-recorded programmes

sheltered from everyday phenomenology