Avec une branche de genêt
le dos voûté
j’essaie de balayer 
les plumes (et le sang)
de mes rêves abattus 
au fusil de chasse

Je me sens chavirer 
tel un terraplatiste 
récemment déménagé 
à la station spatiale
le manque de gravité 
le moindre des soucis

Je jardine les ombres
les arrose de ma sueur
à la fin de la journée 
je scrute encore l’horizon 
pour des signes de lumière 
fraîche de floraison

Fresh light

With a broom branch
my back bent
I try to sweep away
the feathers (and blood)
of my dreams shot death
by a hunting shotgun

I feel myself turned upside down
just like a flat-earther
recently moved
to the space station
the lack of gravity
the least of worries

I garden the shadows
water them with my sweat
at the end of the day
I still scan the horizon
for signs of fresh light
laden with blooming

A nova língua foi o noso territorio
non sabiamos baixar aos sentimentos 
esa fala neutra fixo de terreo ideal 
para poder vivir na superficie 
daquel amor de pel e urxencia
alleo á tarefa incondicional 
que precisa o florecemento 

O territorio das relacións internacionais
foi a corteza dos nosos corpos
só ficaron caídas na miña boca
duas pingas do teu universo
   qelbii - wardatii
e os nomes dos catro obxectos
que rodeaban a nosa cama

Ma rose

The new language was our territory
we didn't know how to go deep into feelings 
that neutral speech served as ideal ground 
to be able to live on the surface 
of that love of skin and urgency
oblivious to the unconditional task 
needed for flowering

The territory of international relations
was the bark of our bodies
just two drops of your universe
fell into my mouth
   qelbii - wardatii
and the names of the four objects
surrounding our bed

De camiño ao traballo
percorro a beira do río
a marea está alta, o cauce vai cheo
atráeme coa forza imparable
dunha lúa chea

Deixar a mochila 
meter os pes no inquietante limo
cruzar a nado mentres
lavo o meu traxe de bágoas
nas augas marrón terra
quizais se volvan diamantes 
no fondo lamacento

Pasar o resto do día
deitado ao sol entre as canas
alixeirada a pel a secar
espido de mágoas
cunha herba entre os dentes

Diamants

On the way to work
I walk along the river
the tide is high, the riverbed full
it draws me in with the unstoppable force
of a full moon

I leave the backpack 
put my feet in the disturbing slime
swim across while
I wash my tears suit
in the brown earth waters
maybe they will turn into diamonds 
in the muddy bottom

I spend the rest of the day
lying in the sun among the reeds
my lightened skin put to dry
naked of sorrows
with a grass leave between my teeth

Fins de xullo, sur de Inglaterra

Na cripta escura e fresca 
Pecho os ollos sinto medrar 
A conciencia sobre o meu corpo 
Aflora a tensión nos ombreiros

Pido aquí, á Nosa Señora da Bóveda
Quen sabe abondo de aguante
Que a vida non sexa unha lousa 

Entre o macizo destas pedras
A miña alma tórnase máis fluída
Nesta prisión de sombras
Asoma o camiño cara á luz

Summer Prayer

End of July, southern England

In the cool dark crypt 
I close my eyes and feel 
A growing awareness of my body 
The tension in my shoulders surfaces

I ask here, to Our Lady in the Undercroft
Who knows enough about endurance
That life may not be a burden

Among the massif of these stones
My soul becomes more fluid
In this prison of shadows
Appears the way to the light

chega a hora do repouso 
ao cabo podo pechar os ollos 
soñar cun mar azul feliz de arroases 
e bordeado por terrazas de veraneantes 
que fronte a fronte nos ollos descobren paraísos lonxe do metro 
do monótono xirar 
no tambor coa colada

Dolphins

after all        it's time to rest 
i can close my eyes 
and dream of a blue sea 
happy with dolphins 
and lined with terraces of holidaymakers 
who face to face in the eyes discover 
paradises far from the subway 
from the monotonous spinning 
of the drum with laundry

Today Masticadores publishes my poem Adrift. I would be pleased if you visit the page by clicking on the link:

Adrift

Many thanks to Manuela Timofte!

Hoxe que baixa o río cheo
Aproveito para regalarlle 
Á corrente cega e poderosa
As sabas máis novas, as velas de olor
Que tantas veces agardaron en van
Pola calor dos nosos corpos

Guindo o inmenso espazo brillante
Que o desexo nos abrira no corazón
Alí centos de veces entramos 
Tras sacudir na alfombra da porta
O balbordo das rutinas diarias
Para deixar expandirse
Esta ansia dos nosos corpos

Tiro pola fiestra que dá ao río
O perfecto sabor, a perfecta forma
Do teu corpo na miña boca
As pegadas que o teu sal
Deixou no meu recordo
A tua voz suplicante
Que nunca conseguín 
Apagar de todo

O mar ha saber
Onde arrombar
As nosas cinsas

Through the window facing the river

Today the river is full
I take this opportunity to give 
To the blind and powerful current
The newest sheets, the scented candles 
That have so often waited in vain 
For the warmth of our bodies

I drop the immense bright space 
That desire had opened in our hearts
Where hundreds of times we entered 
After shaking off the bustle of daily routines 
On the doormat
To let this longing of our bodies expand

I throw through the window facing the river 
The perfect taste, the perfect shape 
Of your body in my mouth
The traces that your salt 
Left in my memory 
Your pleading voice 
That I never managed 
To erase completely

The sea will know
Where to store 
Our remains

Today Manuela Timofte published my interview in Masticadores! You can access it from this link:

Abel Abilheira – Interview

In the photo I am in the Waterstones bookstore in Liverpool reading a book of poetry (Curiosidade by Estíbaliz Espinosa)

Ilusiónome coa idea de levarte de paseo 
De guiarte pola xeografía escarpada 
Que crearon os ecos dos meus remos

Non aos pozos de suor e aceiro 
Nin ao barranco dos cristais rotos
Tampouco ao vougo pedregal 
Que tiven que cruzar descalzo

As coordenadas gps apuntarían 
Ao territorio onde o amor foi arrolado 

Aí quixera que me acompañaras 
Aínda que algo como unha borrasca
Ameaza con nacerme no peito
De pensar que agora só quede alí: 

Un monte de entullo e terra batida 
Onde había unha fonda fonte fresca 

Ou o desconcerto dunha chatarrería 
En lugar do prado coas vacas pacendo

Gustaríame guiarte ata un outeiro 
De onde sentir a cálidez dos teus ollos 
Nas miñas costas mentres debando a madeixa do día 

Quizais así poderiamos soñar 
Outro manantial, outra herbeira vizosa
Onde os berces abalaran unha nova era 

GPS coordinates

I'm excited about the idea 
Of taking you for a ride 
Of driving you through the rugged geography 
Created by the echoes of my oars

I wouldn't show you the pits of sweat and steel 
or the ravine of broken glass 
or the desolate rocky terrain 
where I had to cross barefoot.

The gps coordinates would point 
To the territory where love was rocked

I would like you to accompany me 
Although something like a storm
It threatens to be born in my chest
If I think that now it just stays there:

A pile of rubble and rammed earth  
Where there was a deep cool spring 

Or the bewilderment of a junkyard 
Instead of the meadow with the cows grazing

I'd like to lead you to a hill 
Where I can feel the warmth of your eyes 
On my back as I weave the day 

Maybe then we could dream 
Of another spring, another lush meadow 
Where cradles would rock a new age 

Poema no que aparece breve mais intensa a silhueta do meu irmán,  tantos anos a miña metade

Aquel verán, tras limpala a fondo
bañámonos na presa da Eira de Pazos 
Onde o cano día e noite deita paseniño
A auga fría e transparente  
Que forma o sesenta por cento 
Da nosa familia materna 

El estaba probando a técnica do retrato
Na foto aparezo coa miña pel máis morena
A fronte da que aínda non se retirou 
O pelo húmido, peiteado para atrás
Asoma o cano da escopeta na composición
Texturas nos reflexos da tona da auga

Da imaxe desbordan beleza e arrogancia 
Eramos inconscientes donos do destino
Tiña eu a profunda convicción de que non
Me ía ver envolto naquela desfeita
Que podería manterme puro, sen me luxar 
Abandonándome aos mesmos erros dos pais
Semellabamos inmunes aos ataques da vida

Por suposto que anos despois daquela foto
Malia os esforzos feitos para lle escapar 
A vida logrou darme alcance 
Para facer entrega do pesado vulto 
Na dedicatoria do reverso do retrato
“non podes pretender esgotar o teu tempo
sen recibir a aprendizaxe que che corresponde”

Portrait in the Eira de Pazos

That summer, after cleaning it thoroughly
We bathed in the Eira de Pazos dam
Where the pipe day and night slowly pours
The cold and transparent water
What makes up sixty percent
Of our maternal family

He was testing the portrait technique
In the photo I appear with my darkest skin
The forehead where the wet hair, combed back 
It has not retired yet 
The barrel of the shotgun shows in the composition
Textures in the reflections of the water surface

Beauty and arrogance overflow from the image
We were unconscious masters of destiny
I had the deep conviction 
I was not going to be involved in that mess
That I could keep myself pure, without staining
Abandoning myself to the same mistakes of parents
We seemed immune to life's attacks

Of course years after that photo
Despite all the efforts made to escape it
Life has caught up with me
to deliver the heavy bulk
in the dedication on the reverse of the portrait
“you can't pretend to run out of time
without receiving the learning that belongs to you"