Mentres o resto da colmea hai tempo atopara un oco nun tronco podre no que durmir o inverno
Canso de tropezar ano tras ano nas mesmas esquinas arrinquei os ollos 
E como un orfo boteime ao monte tratando de aprender de novo as proporcións 
Cos pes espidos piso follas secas en descomposición e nas uñas incrustado levo restos de casca de bidueiro
Nun tempo, seguro, han florecer nas cuncas baleiras nonmesquezas azuis cos que gozar da beleza do troncos brancos e recoñecer o valioso humus

Forget-me-not

While the rest of the hive had long ago found a hole in a rotten trunk in which to sleep the winter

Tired of stumbling year after year in the same corners I tore out my eyes

And like an orphan I threw myself into the woods trying to learn the proportions again

With my bare feet I step on dry, decaying leaves and in my nails I carry remains of birch bark

In time, surely, blue forget-me-not will bloom in my empty sockets with which to enjoy the beauty of the white trunks and recognize the valuable humus

Sentado miro pola fiestra do salón
día soleado, céspede amarelo
a sebe que oculta a rua
o macizo de hortensias contra a casa

Adentro hai unha calma pura
sen movemento, atemporal

Levántase de súpeto o vento
arrastra unha area teimuda 
vinda da fronteira do mar
ou dalgún deserto afastado

Malia a longa viaxe
frótase paciente ás cousas
gran a gran, traballo solidario
avanza o proceso de substitución

Ao pouco o arbusto vencido 
esqueleto escuro que fire a meniña
as flores sen tempo de florecer
o vidro mate entorpece o camiño da luz

Adentro, perdida a vista
procuro nas partículas abrasivas
memorias de tempos minerais
antes de se converteren en caos

Before the chaos

Sitting in the living room I look out  
through the window: sunny day, yellow lawn
the hedge that hides the street
the hydrangeas massif against the house

Inside there is a pure calm
motionless, timeless

The wind suddenly rises
dragging stubborn sand
coming from the sea border
or from some distant desert

Despite the long journey
patiently rubs things
grain by grain, solidarity task
the process of replacement advances

Little by little the defeated bush
dark skeleton that wounds the retina
the flowers without time to bloom
the frosted glass obstructs the light's path

Inside, my sight lost
I search in the abrasive particles
memories of mineral times
before they become chaos

Ás veces teño certeza 
da inmensidade do mundo
dos millóns de pasos que 
faltan para a seguinte meta

Pésanme as idades que gastei 
enchendo o aire de ruido 
mentres ao meu redor
a vida ía golpeando 

Ás veces noto por dentro 
a pinga de sangue do asasino 
que como un cristal roto 
me percorre a alma

Ou me vence a preguiza 
e para redimirme
só busco un xugo calquera 
que me guíe na sombra

Sinto o peso do que me falta 
aínda así concéntrome 
mentres borro do dicionario
a palabra impostor

Estou máis que certo 
de non ser eu o mesías 
dígolles ‘non me sigades, 
avanzo sen coñecer o camiño’

Ás veces agradézolle á vida 
os obstaculos insalvables
cos que vai guiando 
os meus pasos dubidosos

Teño medo da transparencia 
das paredes da cámara
onde agacho confiado
as miñas incertezas

Eight drops

Sometimes I am certain 
of the world’s vastness
of the millions of steps left 
to the next goal 

Sometimes I am saddened 
by the ages I spent 
filling the air with noise 
while life was beating around me 

Sometimes I feel inside 
the murderer's blood drop 
that runs through my soul 
like a broken glass 

Or laziness overcomes me 
and to redeem myself 
I just look for some kind of yoke 
that will guide me in the shadows 

I feel the weight of what I lack 
even so, I work hard
while erasing from the dictionary
the word impostor 

I am more than certain 
I am not the messiah 
I tell people, "Don't follow me, 
I advance without knowing the way." 

Sometimes I thank life 
for the insurmountable obstacles 
which it uses to guide me 
through the dubious steps 

I fear the transparency
of the chamber’s walls
where I confidently hide
my uncertainties

Volve esgotado o impostor
Cos pulsos vencidos 
E o corpo debecendo
Pola redonda superficie 
Tan lonxe e tan presente
Tan lisa e tan redonda

The return

The impostor returns exhausted
With defeated wrists 
And his body longing for
The round surface 
So far and so present
So smooth and so round

Días floridos
De espiños e ouvellas
As nosas pegadas
Agardan na herba

Flowery days
Of hawthorns and sheep
Our footprints
Wait on the green

A vista levántase sobre o magnolio 
E as placas solares dos tellados 
Foxe libre cravándose no ceo azul 

Nalgún punto da Europa continental
Do milleiro de fotos afogadas 
Quizais unha sobreviva ao naufraxio
Refuxiada na sua carteira 

E neste mesmo intre, entre duas nubes
Encontra o fío que brota do ventrículo
Esquerdo do meu corazón

The thread

My view rises above the magnolia 
And the solar panels on the roofs 
It escapes free, piercing the blue sky 

Somewhere in continental Europe
Of the thousand drowned photos 
Perhaps one survives the shipwreck
Refugee in their wallet 

And at this very moment, 
It finds between two clouds
The thread that springs 
From the left ventricle of my heart

Gardo na carteira 
O tícket da cafetaria
Memoria dun tempo
No que a miña voz aínda
Era unha dársena 
De augas transparentes

Faciamos o amor 
En cada nova cama 
E o mellor momento do día
Era o almorzo
Coas pernas falándose
Por baixo da mesa

Tiñamos suficiente
Para o billete de volta
Eran os nosos corpos 
Dous polos opostos
Que fixaban o eixo de rotación
Dun mundo en expansión

Como un universo
Tralo bigbang
Todo florecía
Non sospeitabamos
Que o estancamento
Fora unha posibilidade

Nin que cos anos 
Acabase por ser
O meu timbre 
Como a motoserra 
no vecindario
Nun día festivo

In each new bed

I keep in my wallet
The cafeteria ticket
Memory of a time
When my voice still
Was a dock
Of transparent waters

We used to made love
In every new bed
And the best moment of the day
Was breakfast
With our legs talking
Under the table

We had just enough
For the return ticket
Our bodies were
Two opposite poles
Fixing the axis of rotation
Of a world in expansion

Like a universe
After the big bang
Everything flourished
We didn't suspect
That stagnation
Was a possibility

Nor that over the years
My speech would end up being
Like the chainsaw
In the neighborhood
On a bank holiday

mentres nos diriximos ao río 
a zona máis luminosa da cidade
un señor vai encurvado pola beirarrúa 
non é vello mais leva a carga 
da persistencia no erro 
silenciosamente, ano tras ano
como as fachadas traseiras dos edificios
ou a desorde oculta dos patios de luces 

shade areas

As we head for the river 
the brightest area of the city,
a man advances hunched over the pavement
is not old yet he carries the burden 
of persistence in error 
silently, year after year
such as mosses on the buildings' rear facades  
or the hidden disorder of the courtyards

I submitted this poem exactly three years ago to the contest that Christophe Condello held on his blog https://christophecondello.wordpress.com/

ici où la terre s'arrête brusquement 
le vent lèche la roche abrupte de la falaise 
et cherche la caresse dans un milliard de plumes 
d'oiseaux. Avec le suave frôlement s’effilochent
les âmes libres des goélands, mélangées 
aux minéraux de la paroi, elles retombent 
sur la peau vieillie de notre maison d’automne 
que par ce peeling marin change les barreaux 
de ses fenêtres en voiles gonflées de rêves 
à l’assaut de l’océan, son seul mur l’horizon

marine revival

Here, where the earth stops abruptly
The wind licks the steep rock of the cliff
and seeks a caress in a billion bird feathers.
With the gentle rustling, the free souls of the seagulls unravel, mixed
with the minerals of the wall, they fall
onto the aged skin of our autumn house
which, through this marine peeling, changes the bars
of its windows into sails swollen with dreams
assaulting the ocean, its only wall, the horizon

No bater dos dentes
Síntese o frío do espazo escuro
Aparentemente non chega 
Luz da estrela
Avanzamos en liña recta?
Poderiamos non ser planeta
se ainda nos ata a língua?
Que é un planeta sen órbita?
Quizais non sexa iso 
Poida que a órbita si exista, que estea aí 
Mesmo se non é evidente a sua curvatura 
Ao errar tan lonxe do sol
Semella desprazamento lineal
Porén, xa ves, todo parece indicar
Que andamos en círculos
Ou elipses
Tamén nós
Co eterno lazo do nacemento

Distant

In the chattering of teeth
You feel the cold of dark space
Apparently starlight doesn't reach here
Are we moving in a straight line?
Could we not to be a planet
if we are still bond by tongue?
What is a planet without an orbit?
Maybe it's not that
Maybe the orbit does exist, it’s there
Even if its curvature is not evident
When wandering so far from the sun
It seems like linear displacement
However, you see 
everything seems to indicate 
we move forward in circles
Or ellipses
So do we
With the eternal bond of birth