Sobre a autovía atestada
cruza unha formación de patos 
arrastrando saudade doutras terras 

quixera en soños deixar pegada 
recitar meus versos libres de cargas 
sobre as augas marróns do Támesis 
prometedoras sementes de flores azuis 
no peito dos paseantes de mil pobos 

soño con pousar como un corvo
na varanda do balcón, despregar as ás
planear nas térmicas dos edificios
remontar o curso do Lea cara ao futuro
tornando en combustible esta tristura

mentres tanto, tralo solpor en Canning Town
chega a noite e a calidez nas ventás
os chispazos da Jubilee e o DLR
as luces lentas dos drons da policía
escriben o poema do progreso cotián

Migration

Above the crowded motorway 
crosses a formation of ducks 
longing for other lands 

I wanted to leave a mark, in my dreams 
to recite my verses free of charges 
over the brown waters of the Thames 
promising blue flower seeds 
in the chest of the walkers of a thousand nations

I dream of perching like a crow
on the balcony railing, unfold the wings
plan on the thermals of the buildings
retrace the course of the Lea towards the future
turning this sadness into fuel

meanwhile, after sunset in Canning Town
the night comes and the warmth in the windows
the sparks of DLR and Jubilee line
the slow lights of police drones
they write the poem of everyday progress

I am happy to see my poem «In the water rings» published in Masticadores. Thank you very much to Daniela Timofte!

It talks about a period of my life that I have overcome for years, but it is good to remember.

You can access to read it in the link below.

https://gobblersmasticadores.wordpress.com/

le jour où j’ai pardonné mes ennemis 
le sommeil a pu retrouver le chemin de mon lit

par bonheur je n'avais pas le pouvoir 
de leur rendre quarante fois chaque coup 

après une douloureuse mort, de mon million de bottes 
j’aurais piétiné leurs cadavres, leurs maisons, 
les aurais réduites en poussière 
aurais fait souffler un vent rageux qui porterait 
les restes privés de toute humanité
sur l’universel océan à fin de les dissoudre 
dans l’immensité 
anéantissant même l’idée de leur existence 

ça n’aurait pas apaisé d’un demi ibuprofène
la douleur intime de mon coeur enveloppé de barbelés

quand je vois les dégâts des tout-puissants 
je remerci la vie de m’avoir privé de cette puissance
pour ne pas risquer de montrer 
un si indigne manque d’humanité 

My enemies

the day I forgave my enemies
sleep was able to find its way back to my bed

fortunately I did not have the power
to return each blow forty times

after a painful death, with my million boots
I would have trampled on their corpses, their houses,
reduced them to dust
I would have blown a raging wind that would have carried
the remains deprived of all humanity
on the universal ocean in order to dissolve them
in the immensity
annihilating even the idea of their existence

the intimate pain of my heart wrapped in barbed wire 
it would not have even been soothed 
the equivalent of half an ibuprofen 

when I see the damage done by the all powerful
I thank life for having deprived me of this might
so as not to risk to show
such a despicable lack of humanity

Llegué tarde a la oficina de correos de Canning Town 

crucé el río por arriba y las vías por abajo

la cola llegaba hasta la calle

no sabía si cerrarían antes de mi turno 

me sobraba la cazadora, me estorbaba el sobre en la mano

la chica delante de mí no parecía inquietarse

pese a estar cargada con tres cajas

no paraba de scroll down scroll down

en la pantalla de su teléfono

con dificultad saqué el mío 

consulté una notificación en el correo 

que esperaba desde hacía dos semanas

con la emoción me costó encontrar la frase

your manuscript wasn’t selected this time 

The wait

I arrived late to the Canning Town post office

I’d crossed over the river and under the tracks

The queue reached the street

I didn’t know if they would close before my turn

my coat was superfluous and the envelope encumbered my hand 

the girl in front of me didn’t seem to be bothered

despite carrying three boxes

she kept scrolling down scrolling down

on the screen of her phone

I felt clumsy taking out mine

checked a notification in the mail

for two weeks I had been waiting for 

in my excitement it was hard to find the sentence

your manuscript wasn’t selected this time

hoxe son o xardineiro 

que recolle as follas secas 

e as apila nun recuncho 

para esconder as nosas tumbas 

e seguir así na mímica da vida 

sen te decatares que hai xa tempo 

que andamos mortos

*

ao baixar no ascensor 

hai un lixeiro cheiro a chamusque 

que a colonia non dá camuflado

endereito os ombreiros

e saio á brisa do río 

que ninguén saiba 

de que parte do alén procedo

Autumn days

today I’m the gardener 

collecting dry leaves 

piling them in a corner 

to hide our graves 

to continue this way in the mimicry of life

so you don’t realise that for a long time 

we have been dead 

*

when I get down in the lift 

there is a faint smell of charred flesh 

that perfume doesn’t manage to hide 

I straighten my back 

and step out into the river breeze 

so that no one knows 

which part of the afterlife I come from

entro e dende dentro

asómome ao balcón 

sinto a vertixe 

dun baleiro limpo 

como de cristal 

ocupándoo todo

que fácil engole 

todo este caos

mesmo os recunchos

escuros e húmidos 

do cempés

acaban sendo transparencia 

esquecemento

*

chamei tantas veces

por unha bomba perdida

dunha guerra afastada

porén nada veu

e agora este oco vivo 

palpitando ausencia 

este corte no peito

que se expande

diáfano

oculta a inminente 

luz do amencer

Vacuum

I enter and from within

lean out the balcony 

feel the dizziness

of a clean vacuum 

like glass 

taking up everything

how easy it swallows 

all this chaos

even the dark and damp 

centipede’s corner 

end up being transparency 

forgetfulness

*

I requested so many times

for a lost bomb

of a distant war

however nothing came

and now this living hollow 

throbbing absence 

this cut on my chest

that expands

diaphanous

hides the impending 

dawn light

Pola fiestra pódome ver alá embaixo 

*

no voo familiar das gaivotas sen mar 

na alma vikinga dos muxos a contracorrente

nos inquietantes remuiños das duas augas

na navegación sedosa dos cisnes indolentes

*

no río que respira as mareas do mar do Norte 

deixando o seu pouso mineral ao pé da ponte 

*

na ilusión de quen tras cincuenta anos recibe 

o regalo pedido na carta aos Reis Magos

*

e pasa no atronador lamborghini amarelo

como un animal salvaxe sobre a ponte

*

manso e constante coma o río tamén dentro 

rebole o neno que cobiza o seu xoguete

English version

Through the window I can see me down there 

*

in the familiar flight of gulls without sea

in the viking soul of the mullets upstream

in the disturbing eddies of the two waters

in the silky navigation of indolent swans

*

in the river that breathes the North Sea tides

leaving its mineral silt at the foot of the bridge 

*

in the illusion of the one who after fifty years receive 

the gift requested in the letter to Santa Claus

*

and passes in the thunderous yellow lamborghini

like a wild animal on the bridge

*

calm and constant like the river also inside 

excitement swarms in the boy coveting his toy

Grazas á capa de formigón 
que cobre este vasto território 
xa non temos que nos ocupar máis 
das herbas invasoras, nin das outras

Abaixo desta capa quedaron sepultadas 
as maceiras, os galiñeiros, o fouciño
podemos adicar as horas a viaxar 
a superfície lisa, weed-free das pantallas

Abaixo do que está máis abaixo 
apañando mazás, recollendo ovos
abríndose camiño entre a herba
perdeuse o meu neno voluntarioso

My wilful boy

Thanks to the layer of concrete 
that cover this vast territory 
we no longer have to worry about 
invasive weeds, or any grass

Beneath this layer were buried 
apple trees, chicken coops, the sickle
now we can spend hours traveling 
the screens’ smooth weed-free surface

Underneath what is below 
picking apples, gathering eggs 
making his way through the grass 
my wilful boy was lost

Todo el día tuve un poema 

en la punta de la lengua 

engarzaba dos palabras sencillas 

(miedo y culpa) 

con otra compleja, distante

(equilibrio) 

no encontré el momento

de armarles un encofrado 

en el que volcar su historia 

en realidad la mía

así que llego a la noche 

con la boca seca, rígida

como la madera de un mástil 

y sólo me queda el vago rescoldo

como un eco solitario 

que muere rebotando 

contra las paredes del desierto 

sin conseguir hallar oído

en el que refugiarse

Lost Poem

All day long I had a poem 

on the tip of my tongue 

linking together two simple words 

(fear and guilt) 

with another one complex, distant 

(balance) 

I couldn’t find the time 

to set them a shuttering 

in which to pour their story 

actually mine 

so I arrive at night 

with a dry, rigid mouth 

like the wood of a mast 

and only the vague ember remains 

like a solitary echo 

that dies bouncing off 

the walls of the desert 

without being able to find an ear 

in which to take refuge

A azotea do edificio roza 

a barriga branca dos avións

no cedo da mañá son 

fío branco que zurce, 

nas teas que a noite teceu, 

os baixos da saia do día 

*

o ceo azul da cidade 

varre a cinza recén enfriada 

coa mesma agulla decote 

sen se decataren 

cosen as cativas sementes 

que a miña perenne fuga esparexeu

nas cunetas desta metrópole

Planes and ditches

The roof of the building scrapes 

the white belly of the planes

in the early morning they are 

white thread sewing up, 

in the fabric the night has woven, 

the hem of the day’s skirt

*

the blue sky of the city 

sweepes up the recently cooled ash 

with the same needle every day

without realise it 

they sew the weak seeds 

that my perennial escape scattered

in the ditches of this metropolis