Confesións no leito de morte do mes de xaneiro (gl – en)

A ausencia como unha arma
ameaza o leve equilibrio
promete praceneira caida
tan fácil, tan excitante!

atrévese a cuestionar o meu reino
de barquiños de papel
e follas secas de carballo
sabe que avanzo dificultosamente
batendo a cabeza contras as paredes

por iso téntame co mergullo
no que as mans xuntas 
abren a superficie
e o corpo enteiro avanza, 
liberado, noutra densidade 
mundo novo por descubrir!

non penso en que na baixada
hánseme baleirar os petos 
nos que gardo uns poucos principios
que me manteñen erguido;

seguramente na ventá do salón
escorregando efímera sobre o cristal
unha pinga gorda de chuvia
como unha lágrima
sería o único testigo da desfeita

Confessions on the deathbed of January

Absence like a weapon
threatens the slight balance
promises a pleasant fall
so easy, so exciting!

it dares to question my kingdom
of paper boats
and dry oak leaves
knows that I advance with difficulty
beating my head against the walls

that is why it tempts me with the dive
in which the hands together
open the surface
and the whole body advances,
liberated, in another density
new world to discover!

I do not think that on the descent
I would empty my pockets
in which I keep a few principles
that keep me upright;

surely in the living room window
slipping ephemerally on the glass
a fat drop of rain
like a tear
would be the only witness to the undoing