Le cahier à poèmes attire les araignées (fr – en)

C’était si beau sur l’étagère de la librairie!
J’allais y capturer les mots fugaces
ceux-là tant chéris des poètes 
car porteurs de l’étincelle;
il se peut qu’un oiseau,
un rayon de lumière,
le sel d’une larme,
cette clef dorée
du cœur.

Pourtant aujourd’hui seule la toile
tente, avec sa langue de fils
de me rappeler ma volubilité

The Notebook for Poems Attracts Spiders

How beautiful it was on the bookstore shelf!
I was going to capture there the fleeting words,
those so cherished by poets,
for they carry the spark;
perhaps a bird,
a ray of light,
the salt of a tear,
that golden key
to the heart.

Yet today only the web
tries, with its tongue of threads,
to remind me of my volubility.

Life keeps changing. French was once one of the languages spoken at home, as well as the language of the streets and of work; today, little by little, it is drifting away, replaced by English and Galician. That is why this poem is a necessary exercice.

Pájaro sin nombre (es – en)

Un pájaro es sombra
es silhueta furtiva
marcando un trazo en el aire
se va en un suspiro 
ni siquiera le cae una sílaba
que enredada en tu lengua
pueda engendrar un nombre,
así cruza cortando la luz
sombra de pájaro

Nameless bird

A bird is shadow
a furtive silhouette
tracing a line through the air
it is gone in a sigh
not even a syllable falls from it
that, tangled in your tongue,
might give birth to a name
so it crosses, cutting through the light
shadow of a bird

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.

Fugaz (gl – en)

Pasa unha ave maxestosa
no aire que despraza arrastra
a nosa fascinación
remotamente son consciente
do extraordinario deste intre 

na superficie seguen as agullas
cizallando os minutos 
mentres en ignotos páramos da conciencia
paseniño vai medrando a importancia
que este feito terá no resto das nosas vidas

o grandioso evento 
que nos colleu ocupados 
nos labores do reloxo
ocupará o imaxinario 
até á fin

Fleeting

A majestic bird passes
in the air it displaces, carries
our fascination away
I am dimly aware
of the extraordinary nature of this moment

on the surface, the hands go on
shearing the minutes
while in the unknown wastelands of consciousness
slowly, slowly, the importance grows
that this fact will have
for the rest of our lives

the grand event
that caught us busy
with the workings of the clock
will occupy the imagination
until our end

Génesis (es – en)

El ojo cabalga sobre el sillín duro de la bici 
ávido de descubrir los trazos en la vida 
se expande por tierras ignotas 
donde la vegetación lentamente oculta 
botellas vacías, de plástico post-transparente
el ganado acostado en el prado amarillo 
ignora el ojo, en busca de algo que desconocen
hay humo, a ratos, que lo obliga a soltar una lágrima 
también animales mitológicos se cruzan
en la trayectoria que sigue la rueda delantera
todo es posible al iniciar el movimiento:
nacen piedras en los cauces del río
se tapiza de focas 
el borde blanco del mar
el ojo, aún reseco 
de la luz de las pantallas, 
es capaz de alumbrar 
brillantes universos

Genesis

The eye rides upon the hard bicycle saddle,
eager to discover the traces in life.
It spreads across unknown lands
where vegetation slowly conceals
empty bottles, made of post-transparent plastic.
The cattle lying in the yellow meadow
ignore the eye, searching for something
they themselves do not know.
There is smoke, from time to time,
that forces it to shed a tear.
Mythological animals, too,
cross the path traced by the front wheel.
Everything is possible once movement begins:
stones are born in the riverbeds,
the white edge of the sea
is carpeted with seals.
The eye, still parched
from the light of screens,
is capable of illuminating
brilliant universes.

Teas e metais (gl – en)

As bandeiras 
Agora son arame de espiño
Aquí vivo eu, pertenzo a este clan
E ti non,
Só iso

Quería que o souberas
O vento poderoso 
Encárgase de espallar
A miña poderosa
Mensaxe:

Eu, nós, aquí
A favor do vento

Ti aí
Do outro lado

Fabrics and metals

The Flags
Now they are barbed wire.
I live here, I belong to this clan,
and you don’t.
That’s all.

I wanted you to know.
The powerful wind
takes care of spreading
my powerful
message:

Me, us, here,
with the wind.

You, there,
on the other side

Vento do sur (gl – en)

Hoxe a vida foi un caos
así que puiden sobrevivir un día máis 
sen despertar sospeitas

malia os escapes dos motores diesel
o intenso olor a vaca tamén se metera no taller
—xa na autovía conseguira superar
os filtros do aire acondicionado—
e a media mañá unha tristura bovina 
ocupaba tamén
o hemisferio dereito do meu cerebro

cada media hora me asomei á ventá 
testando a calidade do aire
non foi ata ben entrada a tarde
que chegou o vento do sur 

South wind

Today life was chaos
so I managed to survive another day
without arousing suspicion,

despite the diesel engine fumes
the intense smell of cow had also found its way into the workshop
—already on the motorway it had managed to get past
the air-conditioning filters—
and by mid-morning a bovine sadness
had also taken over
the right hemisphere of my brain

every half hour I leaned out of the window
testing the quality of the air
it wasn't until well into the afternoon
that the wind from the south arrived

Propiedades da arxila (gl – en)

A poesía é como unha presada de barro
pódeslle sacar a forma soñada
incluso permite certos abusos 
como contar as miserias dun día calquera
sorteando as herbas da acera
o peso dunha grava suficiente
para vencer o xeonllo

podería cubrir con mel as feridas
para que nunca máis se foran
ou erguerme cedo outra mañá
confiando na forza da natureza
que orballa esas pingas de fe
sobre cada un dos seus seres

Properties of clay

Poetry is like a handful of clay
you can shape it into the form you dream of
it even allows certain abuses
like telling of the miseries of any given day
dodging the weeds on the pavement
the weight of a piece of gravel
enough to bring you to your knees

I could cover the wounds with honey
so they would never go away
or get up early another morning
trusting in the strength of nature
that drizzles those drops of faith
over each and every one of its beings

Seis de agosto (gl – en)

Seis de agosto,
ao cruzar as vías 
encontrei moras

xusto antes
sufrira un pequeno baleiro
ao non atopar as flores de cardo
do pasado abril

collín unhas cantas 
sete, oito

e tres espiñas pequenas 
que fun sacando 
mentres apuraba
cara á estación

as bagas aínda tiñan 
o verde xusto 
da infancia

subín ao tren 
trinta segundos
antes da partida


Sixth of August

crossing the railway tracks
I found blackberries

just before that
I had felt a small emptiness
when I could not find
the thistle flowers
from last April

I picked a few
seven, eight

and three tiny thorns
which I pulled out one by one
as I hurried
towards the station

the berries were still
just unripe enough
to belong to childhood

I boarded the train
thirty seconds
before departure

Manos de barro (es – en)

Está ahí y su presencia es como un imán
Las cámaras lo siguen, 
Registran la elegancia de sus movimientos
Y lo adecuado de cada palabra
Que pronuncia en la más estándar de las lenguas

Es un faro que alumbra 
A cada estudiante de derecho
Cada aspirante a pastor
Cada depredador en potencia

Consigue moverse por el mundo, libre 
Gracias a su poderoso ejército 
De avogados

En el estrado blanquea sus dientes
En la intimidad muestra su blanca sonrisa

Todo encaja entre sus manos de barro
Un diminuto mundo de juguete
Que distraído hace girar a su antojo

Hands of Clay

He is there, and his presence is like a magnet.
The cameras follow him,
Capturing the elegance of his movements
And the aptness of every word
He utters in the most standard of tongues.

He is a beacon,
Lighting the way for every law student,
Every aspiring pastor,
Every predator in the making.
He moves through the world, free,
Thanks to his powerful army
Of lawyers.

At the bench he flashes his white teeth;
In private he wears his radiant smile.

Everything fits within his hands of clay,
A tiny toy world
That, absent-mindedly, he spins at will.