Eu 
No que ao meu cerne refire
Paseo ao carón dun leito enorme
Cuberto da manta aveludada 
O seu roce, a sua dispoñibilidade  
Esperta a urxencia dos encontros 
Ávidos de nós 

Abandonadas as forzas estelares 
Sentímonos únicos nesta sede 
Compás co que nos navegamos 
ata a saciedade arroladora do sono 
Na dozura máis suave da pel 
Nosa

Velvet

Me 
As far as my core is concerned
I walk next to a huge bed
Covered in velvet-like blanket 
Its touch, its availability  
Awakens an urgency of encounters 
We crave for

Once abandoned star forces 
We feel unique in this thirst
Compass to navigate our own seas
Until the satiety that will sway sleep 
In the softest sweetness 
Of our skin

Saímos de Londres cara ao leste 
Na autovía apenas se movían 
As ringleiras interminables de coches 
Á conquista da cidade 

O ceo baixo e gris sobre chairas verdes 
Creo que a falta de montes me desconcerta
Ou é que a grande metrópole semella ilusión 
Cando te afastas unhas millas 

Espertas dun soño no que había o metro 
E buses vermellos de dous pisos
Rañaceos e xentes solitarias 
como planetas nas suas órbitas

Star forces

We left London for the East 
On the dual carriageway 
The endless rows of cars barely advanced 
In their conquest of the city 

The sky low and grey over green plains 
I think the lack of mountains baffles me
Or is it because the metropolis seems an illusion 
When you move a few miles away 

You wake up from a dream 
garnished with the Tube 
And double decker red buses 
Skyscrapers and lonely people 
Like planets in their orbits

I was driving to the depot 
At seven in the morning 
In shorts and a t-shirt
By East India Dock Rd 
And through the open windows 
The clamor of the seagulls entered 
Welcoming me after the long journey 
I could feel the mighty ocean
Overflowing inside me
Flooding London's dual carriageways

De camiño ao traballo

Conducía ás sete da mañá hacia o taller 
De pantalóns curtos e camiseta
Por East India Dock Rd 
E a través das ventás abertas 
Entraba o balbordo das gaivotas 
Que me recibían tras a longa travesía 
Podía sentir o poderoso océano
Desbordar dentro de min
Inundar as autovías de Londres

Manuela Timofte has published today my Poem Dictionary in Masticadores. You can visit it by clicking on the link

Poem Dictionary

I am very grateful and happy to see this definition of mine see a new day

Non estaba día de praia, aínda que había un pouco de sol o aire ía fresco e non apetecía sacar a camiseta. A app do móbil daba chuvia para esa mesma noite.

As nenas chegaron carrexando sen esforzo a vitalidade que faltaba nos pais. Conversas de adulto, política, vacacións, distancias; preguntas nas que os ollos procuran o afastado horizonte.

As nenas berraban cantos estridentes, facían piruetas, salpicaban, coreaban o meu nome cando nadaba cara as boias amarelas. Fixemos o pino xuntos, saltamos dunha rocha collidos da man, fixemos o parvo, pasámolo ben.

Ao teléfono comezaban a chegar os mails da compañía aérea, pola tarxeta de embarque. Na sua cabeza unha tristura fonda que tentaba sacudirse naquelas areas efímeras, antes da inevitable partida. Definitivamente, esa noite chovería.

Chances of rain

It wasn’t a beach day, although there was a bit of sun, the air was cool and you didn’t feel like taking your shirt off. The mobile app predicted rain for that same night.

The girls arrived effortlessly carrying the vitality that was lacking in their parents. Adult conversations, politics, holidays, distances;  questions in which the eyes seek the distant horizon.

The girls screamed shrill songs, pirouetted, splashed, chanted my name as I swam toward the yellow buoys. We did handstands together, we jumped off a rock holding hands, fooled around, had a good time.

Emails from the airline began to arrive on the phone, regarding the boarding pass. In her head a deep sadness that she tried to shake off on those ephemeral sands, before the inevitable departure. It would definitely rain that night.

¡Cancela, por favor, la primavera!
Que llegue el agua fría del mar 
A deslizarse entre mis muslos
Con cada brazada, con cada patada
¡Sea acariciado cada poro de mi piel!
Y así el cuerpo borre la memoria 
Dolorosa de la espera vana
Por una esquina de sus labios
Por una sombra de sus dedos 
Sobre el páramo ávido de mis anhelos

Cancel spring!

Please, cancel spring!
Let the cold water of the sea  
Slide between my thighs
With every stroke, with every kick
Let every pore of my skin be caressed!
And so my body erases the painful
Memory of vain waiting
For a corner of her lips
For a shadow of her fingers 
On the avid moorland of my desires

Abaixo a piscina na que aprendín a natación
A estación marítima onde tantas veces collín o barco para cruzar a ría
As escaleiras do peirao que abrigaron o primeiro bico
Tamén a marquesina na que durmira unha das borracheiras
E a dársena onde traballara pintando iates
…
Saio pola porta e o arrecendo do mar 
Sobe como unha potente onda
En poucos segundos xa nos posúe
E todos os meus eus dunha vida
Asentan dentro de min, podo sentir algo 
Non é felicidade pero si unha paz 
Que me arrola: cada chanzo do camiño
Trouxome ata aquí

Brief note

Down there, the pool where I learned swimming 
The maritime station where I took the boat so many times to cross the estuary
The pier stairs that sheltered the first kiss
Also the bus shelter that was a bed for me after one of the benders
And the dock of my first paid jobs, painting yachts
 …
I go out the door and the scent of the sea 
rises like a powerful wave
In a few seconds it owns us
And all my selves of one entire life
settle inside me, I can feel something 
It is not happiness but a peace 
That rocks me: every step of the way
Brought me here

De camiño ao salón de peiteado
pasamos pola beiramar
Trouxonos papá de visita
cando nenos a ver o espectáculo
da descarga do peixe

Tres arrastreiros novos
con matrícula das Falklands
orgullosos apuntaban cas proas 
cara a cidade indiferente

Anoto mentalmente o óxido 
nos peiraos de carga
evito dicilo en alto, decátome
do reflexo do meu pai na miña voz

Finalmente, o tempo do corte 
achégome á beira marabillado 
como sempre da transparencia da auga

No sal desta ría 
consérvanse as miñas memorias

On the way to the hairdresser

On the way to the hairdresser 
we passed by the waterfront
Dad brought us to visit 
when we were children 
to see the show of unloading the fish

Three new trawlers 
with Falklands registration 
proudly pointed their prows 
towards the indifferent city

I make a mental note 
of the rust on the loading docks 
I avoid saying it out loud, I notice 
the reflection of my father in my voice

Finally, the time of the haircut  
I approach the shore marveling 
as always at water’s transparency

My memories are preserved 
in the salt of this estuary

Cando navegabamos no Gran Sol 
E os bonitos tinxían a popa de vermello
Nas horas mortas da tardiña
Saía á cuberta do barquiño minúsculo
Percorría os trinta e cinco metros de eslora
Esculcando o horizonte
Non achaba rastro da terra
Unha liña contínua rodeándonos
Illándonos do mundo
Eu, que non era pescador 
Dos trescentos metros de profundidade 
Daquel caladoiro extraía a substancia
Que había dar corpo aos meus versos

In the fishing ground

When we were sailing on the Sole Bank
And the albacore dyed the stern red
In the downtime of the evening
I used to go out on the deck of the tiny little boat
I covered the thirty-five meters in length
Looking at the horizon
There was no trace of land
Just a continuous line surrounding us
Isolating ourselves from the world
Me, who was not a fisherman 
Of the three hundred meters of depth 
From that fishing ground I extracted the raw material 
That would give body to my verses

Durante la terapia
Mientras una fina capa de papel blanco
Me separaba del acolchado de la camilla verde
Partido desde lo profundo del estómago
Un pájaro muerto salió del interior de mi boca

Como su magia iba trabajando mi ser
Me causó un leve incomodo
Un pájaro muerto venido de no sé donde
Que yacía húmedo y frío 
Al lado de mi cabeza

Antes de que sus manos 
Acabasen el viaje de los rituales 
Sobre mi cuerpo abandonado
Ordené a un esqueleto cubierto de plumas 
que alzase el vuelo y dejase

Espacio para que la primavera
Enraizase sus nuevos cantos

New songs

During therapy
While a thin layer of white paper
Separated myself from the padding of the green stretcher
From the depths of the stomach
A dead bird came out of my mouth

As her magic was working my being
I felt a slight discomfort
When next to my head 
A dead bird coming from nowhere
Laid wet and cold 

Before her hands 
Finished the journey of rituals 
On my abandoned body
I ordered to a skeleton covered in feathers 
to take flight and leave

Space for spring
Give roots to its new songs