Labramos lastrados coa pena 

atrás dos vidros tintados 

do coche de alta gama 

o neno dos ollos tristes 

tamén arrastra a súa

*

eu, pola miña banda 

chego a pensar que son só 

o pesadelo dun moribundo 

ferido de remorsos 

*

achégome ao balcón 

o frío nas mans que apertan 

a varanda de ferro 

sitúame de volta no labradío

As far as I am concerned

We plow the land 

weighed down with sorrow 

behind the tinted windows 

of the high-end car 

the boy with sad eyes

 also drags his own

*

I, as far as I’m concerned 

come to think that I am only 

the nightmare of a dying being 

wounded by remorse 

*

I approach the balcony 

the cold in the hands 

gripping the iron railing 

places me back on the field to plow

aí ven correndo a vida 

coa sua carga de sombra

tanto corre que ás veces 

non dá p´ra facerse a un lado

agacharse é tentador

deixar que nos atropelen

as toneladas de negrura

*

porén o residuo dos anos 

a bater na nosa teimosía 

coma o vento nunha bandeira

afiou o gume da trencha

coa que lle ir sacando virutas

e facela así menos densa

The edge of the chisel

There comes life running 

with its burden of shadow

it runs so much that sometimes 

you can’t stand aside

crouching down is tempting

let it be run us down 

by the tons of blackness

*

however the residue of the years 

beating our stubbornness 

like the wind a flag

sharpened the edge of the chisel

with which to take it out shavings

and make it less dense

Encontrei o teu corpo 

ventureiro de bardana

no roce coa tua perna 

enganchouse o meu desexo

*

agora nas sabas escuras da noite

cada sábado no silencio 

podes sentir o avance cego 

dos meus labios, dos meus dedos

Bardana

I found your burdock

wild body

in the graze of your leg 

my desire was hooked

*

now in the dark sheets of night

every Saturday in silence 

you can feel the blind advance 

of my lips, of my fingers

Semello perdido
nun carreiro escuro
aparentemente sen saída
ao lonxe escoitase, como en sordina 
o cálido balbordo dunha festa 

os calcetíns que puxeches hoxe
non pegan co pantalón

parece que a xente busca alegría
como vai alguén querer meterse
neste recuncho triste

desde cando o gris aceiro casou
con ese marrón foncé?

este labirinto non é de sebe 
de faia inglesa ou buxo do pazo de Oca
as paredes son de espiño
os erros páganse na pel

unha vida ou outra vida só son vidas
a diferencia está no coidado 
dos pequenos detalles

o espiño tórnase fermoso na primavera
rodéate coas suas flores brancas
chegas a sentirte incluso especial

unha vida ten os seus tempos
tempo de ver medrar as espiñas
tempo de pararse a sacalas do corpo
detalles a coidar para manter abertos 
os intersticios por onde entra a luz

Details

I seem lost
in a dark alley
apparently a dead end
in the distance it is heard, as if muffled 
the warm racket of a party 

the socks you put on today
don't match with your trousers

it seems that people are looking for joy
How could anyone want 
to come to this sad corner?

since when the steel gray 
matches that dark brown?

this maze is not a hedge 
of English beech 
or boxwood like in Oca palace
the walls are made of hawthorn
mistakes are paid on the skin

one life or another life is just lives
the difference is in the care 
of the small details

the hawthorn becomes beautiful in spring
it surrounds you with its white flowers
you even get to feel special

a life has its times
time to see the thorns grow
time to remove them from the body
details to take care of 
to keep open the interstices 
through which the light enters

Agarro coa man o amuleto

sinto a sua calor que é a miña

fágoo moverse entre os dedos

sopésoo, doulle voltas

marabíllome co seu brillo

deixo que o seu doce tacto 

me conecte de novo

a centos, miles de quilómetros

co pozo onde abrollaba

á máis cristalina das materias

a que nos fixo por un intre

rozar a felicidade

Amulet

I grab the amulet with my hand

feel its warmth that is mine

make it move between my fingers

I feel the weight of it, I turn it around

marveled at its brilliance

I let its sweet touch 

connect me again

hundreds, thousands of kilometers away

with the well where it flowed

the most crystalline of substances

the one that made us for a while

to graze happiness

Today Masticadores publishes my poem Dried up Source, written after a walk around Bakewell, in the Peak District.

I would like to thank Manuela Timofte for the selection and publication. It is a pleasure for me if you can go read it at this link:

Dried up Source

Entramos no tunel Blackwall 
deixamos Londres cara ao sur 
circulación lenta, luces de freo 
estrelas vermellas que arrastran 
o pensamento baixo o Támesis 

teño medo de saber tanto sobre a dor
que chegue un día 
no que ninguén poida axudarme
soño que aparece alguén e me mira 
profundamente adentro e consegue
cortar un cacho desa negrura mesta 
pero sei que só eu podo facerlle frente
cada quen móvese na propia órbita
coa forza xusta para termar dunha alma
así é a norma, esta desnudez
este avanzar descalzo na grava
supoño que se lograse ceibar este peso
simplemente voaría 
e se lograse facelo aquí 
atravesaría as paredes do túnel e o leito do río 
e a auga do río e o aire cargado
da cidade 
non quedaría un só recuncho
no que o medo puidese agacharse
a miña vida sería unha vela inchada
unha bandada de aves migratorias
unha saba branca batendo ao vento

lentamente a cola avanza e chegamos 
á rampa de saída, a circulación acelérase 
a mente adéntrse noutros labirintos
da superficie que non escurecen
o meu sorriso

Under the river

We entered Blackwall tunnel 
we left London southwards
slow motion, brake lights 
red stars trailing
my thought under the Thames 

I'm afraid I know so much about pain
that may one day come 
in which no one can help me
I dream that someone appears and looks at me 
deep inside and reaches
to cut a bunch of that dense blackness 
but I know that only I can deal with it
everyone moves in their own orbit
with the right force to keep a soul
that's the norm, this nudity
this walk barefoot on the gravel
I suppose if I could release all weight 
I would just fly away 
and if I managed to do it here 
I would go through the walls of the tunnel 
and through the bed of the river 
and the river water and the city charged air
not a single corner would be left
in which fear could hide
my life would be a swollen sail
a flock of migratory birds
a white sheet flapping in the wind

slowly the queue moves and we arrive 
to the exit ramp, traffic speeds up 
the mind enters other labyrinths
of the surface that do not darken
my smile

Este é o meu, un país pequeno descansando sobre Portugal, como un gato na cima dun armario. 

Sempre souben que eramos un país de poetas, pero nunca pensei que España se fose decatar un día.

Por sorte a vida avanza e hoxe enteireime de que Chus Pato recibe o Premio Nacional de Poesía. En catro anos foron tres poetas galegas a gañalo. 

Aínda que lonxe e desconectado, hoxe sinto orgullo do meu país, porque se algo precisa urxentemente o mundo é POESÍA!

Galician poetess once again wins National Poetry Prize (Spain)

This is my country, a small piece of land resting on Portugal, like a cat on top of a cupboard. 

I always knew that we were a country of poets, but I never thought that Spain would find out one day.

Fortunately, life moves on and today I learned that Chus Pato received the National Poetry Prize (Spain).  In four years in a row, three Galician poets won it. 

Although far and disconnected, today I feel proud of my country, because if there is something the world needs urgently, it is POETRY!

Agora, tras ter cruzado o río 
quedando por sempre enchoupado
non preciso máis a bebida 
e aconsellar abstinencia é doado 

Entre os escombros de meus vicios 
fértis medran silvas e roseiras 
sería tentador adicarme
a predicar digno a continencia

Agora que o desexo é barco 
perdido no horizonte de bruma 
sería fácil aconsellar 
profilaxe, contención, mesura

O código usado nos sinais 
postos para balizar o risco
só se entende cando rebasados
xa de cheo caíches ao río

Reading the signs

Now, having crossed the river 
forever getting soaked
I don't need the drink anymore 
and advising abstinence is easy 

Among the rubble of my vices 
fertile brambles and rose bushes grow 
it would be tempting to indulge myself
to preach worthy of continence

Now that the desire is a boat 
lost in the misty horizon 
it would be easy to advise 
prophylaxis, containment, measure

The code used on the signs 
placed to mark the risk
is only understood when left behind
once you've already fallen into the river

Pasei eras construíndo o meu escudo
coa calor ardente, evitaba a sombra
polos fríos mordentes, expuñame ao vento
engadindo capas e máis capas protectoras
a seguridade dábaa unha grosa parede

Neste domingo de setembro
os pés voltan precisar abrigo
aparece un café luminoso
cheo de xente
a través das cristaleiras
entra de esguello 
un raio do sol da mañá
vai pousar docemente
no scone que compartimos
a miña man
como unha célula primitiva
móvese cara á luz
descubro que xa non preciso
protección contra o mundo
agradezo poder gozar
das cousas sinxelas e ricas
a corazón aberto

A slant of light

I spent ages building my shield
with burning heat, I avoided the shade
by the biting cold, exposing me to the wind
adding more and more protective layers
safety was given by a thick wall

This Sunday in September 
my feet need to warm up again
a luminous cafe appears
full of people
through the windows
enter at an angle
a slant of morning sun
it will land sweetly
in the scone we share
my hand
like a primitive cell
move towards the light
I discover I no longer need 
protection from the world
I'm grateful to enjoy
simple and delicious things
with an open heart