Estate atento al momento:
como densas gotas de miel 
caerán tres sombras 
en su oscura estela
vendrá encriptado el mensaje 
la clave, la contraseña 
que libera el cerrojo

En mi pecho baila una bala
entró de golpe por la sien 
tras vencer resistencias
cayó a la estepa del pecho
donde con su punta afilada
camina abriendo surcos de hiel

En el pecho una sombra
y tres balas navegan solitarias
sin saberlo palpan por dentro
en busca de una salida
sin saberlo logran hacer
de su vida, mi vida
de mi dolor, su sustento

The steppe

Be alert to the moment:
like dense drops of honey
three shadows will fall
in their dark wake
the encrypted message will come
the key, the password
that unlocks the bolt

A bullet dances in my chest
it entered suddenly through my temple
after overcoming resistance
it fell to the steppe of my chest
where with its sharp point
walks, carving furrows of gall

In my chest a shadow
and three bullets sail alone
unknowingly feeling inside
in search of a way out
unknowingly turning 
their lives into my life
feeding on my pain

only fireworks when victory is not an inner one

O silencio
trala victoria

Trala victoria
o silencio
como o dunha impávida galaxia 
avanzando silandeira

Quietude
trala victoria
como a cotiandade da poza
onde ignorantes medran as rás

Trala victoria
a devota compaña
do eterno asubío 
que case lograra ignorar

Victory

The silence
after the victory

After the victory
the silence
like that of an imperturbable galaxy
advancing silently

Quiet
after the victory
like the daily life of the pond
where ignorant frogs grow

After the victory
the devoted companion
of the eternal whistle
that I had almost managed to ignore

Today Manuela Timofte published my prayer of gratitude for life, which I wrote almost three years ago, in Gobblers by Masticadores. I’m so glad to read it again!

I would like people to feel something similar when they read it.

Grateful

No comezo unha luz descoñecida
Guindou comigo nas pedras duras do deserto
O ascetismo un refuxio seguro
Onde o camiñar fose amortización

Por sorte o difuminado ballet de Degas
Abre un burato no solo estéril 
Fúgase a miña mente co sorriso da bailarina
Os meus pés feridos atopan os seus doídos nocellos

Polos espazos abertos do seu vestido
A miña pel descobre unha selva tropical
Converso do seu corpo, aprendo os pasos
Quen me salvará agora da exuberancia
Se só entrenei o corpo na escaseza

Choreography

In the beginning an unknown light
threw me against the hard stones of the desert
Asceticism a safe refuge
Where walking was redemption

Fortunately the blurred ballet of Degas
Opens a hole in the barren ground
My mind escapes with the smile of the dancer
My wounded feet find her sore ankles

Through the open spaces of her dress
My skin discovers a tropical jungle
I convert to her body, I learn the steps
Who will save me now from exuberance
If I only trained my body in scarcity

Oggi Flavio Almerighi ha pubblicato la mia poesia «Acciacchi» nel suo domenicale. Adoro leggere i miei scritti in italiano, una lingua che non padroneggio appieno, anche se riesco a leggerne gran parte senza il traduttore. Avendo vissuto per un anno in Corsica, ho studiato un po’ la lingua, anche se non sono mai riuscito a parlarla fluentemente.

Sono molto felice di questa opportunità di raggiungere più lettori. Grazie mille, Flavio!

Gioielli Rubati 376: Savina Dolores Massa – Paolo Pera – Mara Mattavelli – Mauro Contini – Giulia Menolascina – Gisella Canzian – Abel Abilheira – Enrico Marià.

Today Flavio Almerighi published my poem «Ailments» in his Sunday magazine. I love reading my writings in Italian, a language I don’t fully master, though I can read most of it without a translator. Having lived in Corsica for a year, I studied the language a bit, though I never managed to speak it fluently.

I’m very happy to have this opportunity to reach more readers. Thank you so much, Flavio!

Sigo remando no medio da ría
Sen acadar todavía a outra beira
No caderno de bitácora volvo a anotar 
A ausencia de deus nestas augas
Sigo sen encontrar armada que me defenda
Eu e os dous remos somos un só
Meus brazos ríxidos de pau 
Padexan a auga tentando avanzarmos
Entre todos os territorios imaxinados
Non encontro ningún tan merecedor da liberación
Como o que me medrou por dentro
Neste limbo marítimo 
Onde a terra nin me toca

Rowing on

I keep rowing in the middle of the estuary
Without reaching the other shore yet
In the logbook I once again note 
the absence of God in these waters
I still haven't found an army to defend me
I and the two oars are one
My stiff wooden arms
They struggle with the water trying to move forward
Among all the imagined territories
I don't find any so deserving of liberation
As the one that grew inside me
In this maritime limbo
Where the land doesn't even touch me

Basta con el resplandor 
de unas pocas astillas 
que hayan quedado del parqué 
sobre el que ella construyó su verso 
para abrigarme los pies durante una semana
y ataviar con alas de abeja 
mi perseverante empeño

Her verse

The glow of a few splinters 
left over from the parquet floor 
on which she built her verse 
is enough to warm my feet for a week
and adorn with bee wings
my persevering endeavor 

Exercitar a observación
Ir tomando notas 

Deixar
Unha marca en cada pedra

Recoñecer os achaques
Do fráxil ego

Aceptar a mocidade
Como unha manda de xabarís
Esnaquizando os contedores do lixo

Ailments

Exercise observation
Take notes

Leave
A mark on every stone

Recognize the ailments
Of the fragile ego

Accept youth
As a herd of wild boars
Destroying the wheelie bins

Mesa para tres 
ti, eu e o don que pide sangue
A soidade do don
inútil na sua beleza

Pasa a bala 
queimando unha zona xa seca 
onde os líquidos da vida 
fuxiran espantados

Voan proxectís 
nun silencio de paz eterna 
ocultando a dor que envelena a terra 
como restos do refinado de hidrocarburos

Snapshots

Table for three 
you, me and the gift that asks for blood
The solitude of the gift
useless in its beauty

The bullet passes 
burning an already dry area 
where the liquids of life 
had fled in fright

Projectiles fly 
in a silence of eternal peace 
hiding the pain that poisons the earth 
like residues from hydrocarbon refining

Among the pile of emails 
under a line showing 
my year of birth
I could see several shadows 
digging a deep grave for me

I could also perceive 
a grey silence taking the place 
I had occupied 
just my kingdom
seen from above