Rutas (gl – en)

Carreiros na estepa
Entre plásticos desgarrados
E latas de conserva semienterradas
Hai opcións infinitas
Porén escollo a familiar traxectoria circular
Que permite aos meus pés avanzar sen ollos
Erosionando a mesma superficie
Contaminada de presenza

Outra posibilidade sería a aletoriedade
Que ningunha función matemática
Lograra representar: 
Non se podería prever a chegada dun amigo 
Ou a saída do sol nunha mañá fría 
Todo semellaría (im)posibel

Así e todo, a vida fructífera que nos pariu
Nunha marxe enrugada do mundo 
Usa os meus códigos binarios
Como abono para as hortensias
Sendo quen de sementar uns ollos novos
Na primavera han agromar 
Novas rutas entre prados
Punteados de maceiras

Routes

Paths in the steppe
Among torn plastics
And half-buried tins
There are endless options
However I choose the familiar circular trajectory
That allows my feet to advance without eyes
Eroding the same surface
Contaminated by presence

Another possibility would be randomness
That no mathematical function
Has managed to represent: 
You could not predict the arrival of a friend 
Or the sunrise on a cold morning 
Everything would seem (im)possible

And yet, the fruitful life that gave birth to us
On a wrinkled margin of the world 
Uses my binary codes
As fertilizer for hydrangeas
Being able to sow new eyes
In the spring they will sprout 
New routes between meadows
Spotted with apple trees