structures from a time when poets put too much sugar in their coffee

Nunca uso esta armazón de arame

Pois as palabras que traen sentido

Vóltanse elas propias centro florido

Letra de canción que non sacia a fame

*

Non quere isto dizer que non ame

A música para o corazón doído

Mais indo ao solfeo fiquei vencido

Nin sequer toco o triángulo infame 

*

Así no eido da literatura

Procuro da lírica o instrumento

Co que entender o complexo da alma

*

Escribo pois sen ríxida estrutura

Se derramo un verso nalgún momento

A última estrofa soe traer calma

*

Wire sonet

*

I never use this wire structure

Because the words that bring meaning

Become themselves the flowery center

Song lyrics that do not satisfy hunger

*

This does not mean that I do not love

Music for the aching heart

But studying music theory I was defeated

I do not even play the infamous triangle

*

Thus in the field of literature

I seek from the lyric the instrument

With which to understand the complexity of the soul

*

I write therefore without a rigid structure

If I spill a verse at some point

The last stanza usually brings calm

a auga do mar está azul e en calma

na barca vou recostado hacia atrás

indolente, o brazo colgando pola borda

a miña man roza a tona da auga

mentres ti remas, extrañamente hoxe

meus músculos non interfiren pedindo

ocupar a totalidade do noso espazo 

foi raro verte coller os remos

tras un leve esforzo, deixome levar

a quilla da nosa barca e os meus dedos 

acariñan a deliciosa superficie do mar

semella que só existira esta chaira

e non houbera un universo aí embaixo

cubrimos os nosos corpos espidos 

de cunchiñas brancas e xuntos

percorremos os camiños do sal

exploradores descubrimos territorios

que convertimos en fogar

porén non temos aínda a habilidade

do mergullo, incapaces de ir ao fondo

no meu soño acabamos os tres

encallados nun deserto árido 

polo meu brazo abrasado polo sol

soben decididos escorpións negros

*

Blue and blacK

*

the sea water is blue and calm

in the boat I lie back

lazy, my arm hanging over the side

my hand brushes the surface of the water

while you row, strangely today

my muscles do not interfere asking

to occupy the entirety of our space

it was strange to see you take the oars

after a slight effort, I let myself be carried

the keel of our boat and my fingers

caress the delicious surface of the sea

it seems that only this plain existed

and there was no universe down there

we cover our naked bodies

with white little shells and together

we walk the paths of salt

explorers we discover territories

that we turn into home

however we do not yet have the skill

of diving, unable to go to the bottom

in my dream the three of us ended up

stranded in an arid desert

by my arm scorched by the sun

determined black scorpions climb

Today Flavio Almerighi has included my poem Mechanisms in his Sunday selection. As always, it is a joy to be part of his selected poems. I thank him from here for the great work he does; I envy him and I wish there was someone like him in my language!

Gioielli Rubati 336: Julie Sopetran – Frida La Loka – Abel Abilheira – Béatrice – Ezio Falcomer – Chiara Adezati – Massimo Botturi – Alba Toni.

In response to the game proposed by Luisa  I have sent this composition

https://wp.me/p6tBF4-6E2

á noite o lobO
con ollos de rubI
e silueta de carbóN
 afastado ouvea o leimotiV
da estática estación de soidadE
nas poutas de neve podo descifraR
toda a dor que o seu deambular contéN
no máis fondo entendo o peso do desterrO

The winter

at night the wolf
with ruby eyes
and a coal silhouette
far away howls the leitmotif
of the static season of solitude
in the snow paws I can decipher
all the pain that his wandering contains
deep down I understand the weight of exile

Con paciencia mineral os tellados agardan a chegada do sol de xaneiro

Así meus ósos vulnerables soñan a calidez do reberete de encaixe das tuas medias altas

January Sun

With mineral patience the roofs await the arrival of the January sun

So my vulnerable bones dream of the warmth of the lace trim in your over-the-knee socks

descubrir os mecanismos do pracer 

inevitablemente trae desequilibrio

xa eternamente ao carón do lume

a xeada nunca callará na cabeza espida

«por que escoller o sufrimento

se os teus labios son o meu faro ?»

pero a dor é un can de caza

buscaranos con tanta ansia 

que non habemos topar 

sabas o suficientemente brancas 

para nos protexer do seu olfacto

*

Mechanisms

*

discovering the mechanisms of pleasure 

inevitably brings imbalance

already eternally by the fire

frost will never fall on our bare head

«why choose suffering

if your lips are my lighthouse?»

but pain is a hunting dog

it will seek us with such eagerness 

that we will not encounter 

bed sheets white enough 

to protect us from its nose

Si un jour la mer venait à disparaître

et que les gens-sans-mer voulaient savoir

à quoi avait-elle ressemblait 

lorsque les gens-fortunés 

l’utilisaient comme dépotoir

il ne resterait parmis mes écrits 

rien qui puisse leur donner 

même une minuscule idée

de son immense beauté

seul des chroniques d’une navigation

malade de solitude

auraient témoigné de sa présence

enfin, guère de vraiment profitable 

*

Testimony

*

If one day the sea were to disappear 

and the sealess-people wanted to know 

what it had looked like 

when the lucky-people 

used it as a dumping ground

there would remain among my writings

nothing that could give them 

even a tiny idea 

of ​​its immense beauty

only chronicles of a navigation

sick with loneliness

would have testified to its presence

finally, hardly anything really profitable

Avanzamos cara ao norte

en realidade a dirección 

non é relevante

*

avanzamos, cara ao frío

nos prados aparece a neve

de días anteriores

*

chove pero as pingas

apachócanse en silencio 

contra o cristal

*

como querendo acadar 

a doce levidade das folerpas 

sen aínda logralo

*

tras un rastro escuro de rubís

cargados coas dores sublimes

das placas tectónicas

*

tatúo a tona da terra

co ronsel de azucre glass

do meu barquiño de cartolina

*

Heading north

*

We move north

in reality the direction

is not relevant

*

we move forward, towards the cold

from previous days, the snow lies

in the meadows

*

it rains but the drops

silently crash

against the glass

*

as if wanting to reach

the sweet lightness of the snowflakes

without yet achieving it

*

after having left a dark trail of rubies

charged with the sublime pains

of the tectonic plates

*

I tattoo the surface of the earth

with the icing sugar wake

of my little cardstock boat

Ma petite planète

n’a jamais eu de terre

ce n’est qu’océan infini 

traversé de long en large

par mon bateau en papier

peut-être il y a une fleur

à demander l’amour 

ou un renard quelque part

à attendre mon arrivée

*

peut-être c’est qu’une goutte

à abandonner,

cette diminute planète 

trou noir de solitude,

déménager vers l’humain

casser la dure coque 

d’isolement

*

The little serf

*

My little planet 

has never had a land 

it’s just an infinite ocean 

crossed back and forth 

by my paper boat

maybe there’s a flower 

asking for love

or a fox somewhere 

waiting for my arrival

*

maybe it’s just a drop 

to be abandonned,

this tiny planet

black hole of solitude,

and move towards the human

breaking the hard shell 

of isolation

Leo o escrito onte

unha idea tan potente!

ao devalar a excitación da escrita

fican secando na luz do día

as imperfeccións do cristal

que semellara diamante

*

Nada, outro día máis de deriva 

navegando sen agulla de marear

nin trazas no horizonte 

de terra na que puider prender

algún tipo de porto ou ría 

devecendo por dar abrigo

*

Revision

*

I read what I wrote yesterday

such a powerful idea!

as the excitement of writing go out

the imperfections of the crystal

that had seemed diamond

are drying in the daylight

*

Nothing, another day of drifting

sailing without a compass

nor any trace on the horizon

of land where it could take root

some kind of port or estuary

longing to give shelter