Dentro

Pola fiestra vese un patio interior

equipos de aire acondicionado

cubos do lixo e un pequeno campanario

sorprende a ventá oxival 

da parede traseira da igrexa 

que confundira cun galpón industrial

semella un caos recollido, oculto

parece unha mira da miña alma

nesta época de incertezas

*

Afora

O vento como un león case domado

bota as gadoupas á tristura que arrastro

coma una bolsa de plástico anacrónica

levaa contaminar outros eidos

agarro da gorra, agora sorrío arreo

na sobremesa quedo absorto

nos movementos envolventes 

do leite disolvéndose no té

até acadar uniformidade 

*

fascíname a idea da fermosa asimilación 

desta integración sosegada

*

Contrast

*

Inside

Through the window it can be seen an interior courtyard

air conditioning equipment

wheelie bins and a small bell tower

It’s surprising to find out an ogival window

on the back wall of the church

which I had mistaken for an industrial warehouse

it looks like a collected, hidden chaos

it seems a peephole to my soul

in this time of uncertainty

*

Outside

The wind, like an almost tamed lion

throws its claws at the sadness I carry

like an anachronistic plastic bag

it takes it away to contaminate other areas

I grab my cap, now I smile non-stop

at dessert I become caught up

in the enveloping movements 

of the milk dissolving in tea

til it reaches uniformity 

*

I am fascinated by the idea 

of ​​the beautiful assimilation 

of this peaceful integration

Falaba do seus animais, da horta 

da praia na que aprendera a nadar 

– míraa, alá abaixo!

das costas, do monte, das herbeiras

das viaxes en bicicleta percorrendo 

a beira da ría dunha punta á outra 

mostraba unha vista satélite daquela rexión 

onde medrara, onde vivira a xuventude

*

falaba do avó, das peles de raposo 

a secar cravadas na porta do horreo

das vacas, da herba seca, do clan, da escola

*

Falaba pouco de duas fillas que tivera 

cunha francesa, que na tormenta do divorcio

ficaran á deriva lonxe da terra firme

*

Cubría de imaxes bucólicas aquela ferida

*

Wound 

*

He spoke of his animals, his vegetable garden

of the beach where he’d learned to swim

– look at it, down there!

of the coasts, the mountains, the meadows

of his bicycle trips along

the estuary from one end to the other

he showed a satellite view of that region

where he’d grown up, where h’d lived his youth

*

he spoke of his grandfather, the fox skins

to dry nailed to the barn door

of the cows, the hay, the clan, the school

*

He spoke little of the two daughters he had

with a Frenchwoman, who in the storm of divorce

had drifted far away from the mainland

*

He covered that wound with bucolic images

Desperto e nos cristais da ventá as uñas da tormenta xa rabuñan a sua ira

Quixera durmir un pouco máis, por se cambiaran as isobaras ou por roubar uns minutos insensatos de paz ao abeiro do edredón 

Pero alá vou mirarlle a cara, antes de que medren os ventos, me adianten e enchan este cuarto de entullo e flores pisadas

Attitude

I wake up and on the window panes the storm’s nails are already scratching its anger

I would have liked to sleep a little longer, in case the isobars changed or to steal a few foolish minutes of peace under the cover of the duvet

However, I’m going to face it, before the winds grow, get ahead of me and fill this room with rubble and trampled flowers

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