Madeira e mar (gl – en)

Subo as escaleiras agarrado aos barrotes do pasamáns: eles renxen coa nostalxia da vida que fluía dende o fondo da terra até ás follas máis claras.

Abrázome aos meus poemas. Tomo un café a uns metros da saída do súper, un ancián apreta contra o peito a caixa de cartón na que leva catro cousas, mentres avanza lento, encurvado.

A madeira do casco está ferida. Afeita a soportar tormentas non imaxinou o poder destrutor das augas claras da beira.

Unha illa pequena coas raíces rotas á deriva no océano. (Últimamente choro en cada serie) busco no horizonte unha discontinuidade onde ceibar a esperanza mentres a luz do sol devala.

Wood and sea

I climb the stairs gripping the handrail bars: they creak with the nostalgia of life that once flowed from deep in the ground to the clearest leaves.

I hold my poems close. I have a coffee a few metres from the supermarket exit. an old man presses against his chest the cardboard box with the few things he has just bought as he walks slowly, hunched over.

The wood of the hull is wounded. Accustomed to weathering storms, it never imagined the destructive power of the clear waters along the shore.

A small island, its roots broken, adrift in the ocean. (Lately, I cry in every TV series.) I search the horizon for a discontinuity where I can set hope free as the sunlight fades.