Sea dwellers Lucky people! I keep your rain and your salt I approach your ocean, the rocks contain it, they put borders on it I come to the shore let its momentum sweep away the dust of my chest I keep your cure and my peace Lucky guys! Your feet smelling of seaweed Your head shining with pieces of seashell I go away and leave you my shadow To chew the cud well chewed with your foam teeth Lucky me! I keep your light supporting the ribs of my ship
Me quedo con tu luz
Sea dwellers Lucky people! Me quedo con tu lluvia y tu sal Achégome ao teu océano, as pedras contéñeno, póñenlle fronteiras Veño á beira que o seu ímpetu me varra o pó do peito Me quedo con tu cura y mi paz Lucky guys! Your feet smelling of seaweed Your head shining with pieces of seashell Marcho e deixoche a sombra A remoer ben remoida cos teus dentes de escuma Lucky me! Me quedo con tu luz apuntalando las cuadernas de mi barco
Agardo a vinda de alguén que empuxe Con forza a enerxía densa que se estancou Neste campo de batalha do terceiro andar Xordo, cego e mudo berce da dor No que os fungos e o pó tentaron Coa sua sinxela ciencia mais sen éxito borrar as pegadas escuras do desamor
Agardo alguén que cree aquí novos lazos Coma os que a min se me romperan E restableza así o equilibrio do universo Para que a todopoderosa Lúa poida seguir movendo mareas
Heartbreak
I await the arrival of someone who pushes With force the dense energy that has stagnated On this third floor battlefield Deaf, blind and mute cradle of pain In which fungi and dust tried With its simple but unsuccessful science Too erase the dark traces of heartbreak
I look forward to someone creating new ties here Like the ones that were broken to me And thus restores the balance of the universe So that the almighty Moon may Keep moving tides
There are harsh word pairs in this land That they wouldn't survive just one week The cold emptiness of separation Like a tree felled by the foot Its sound would simply disappear Dry, sharp, binary There are pairs of words that stick together so strong that they raise walls where you stand Caught in a shortage of terms In the scarcity of nuances, in the life of lack
Logo de aceptar que romperan todos os preciosos xarróns de cristal tallado logo de se arrastrar coa boca aberta polos túneles fétidos do sumidoiro
precísase a coraxe de aguantarlle a mirada condenatoria ao espello termar das pernas dos cabalos bravos evitarlles fuxir da vergonza ao galope
agora que estás no lado das cuspidelas no barrio dos proscritos, dos condenados queda renacer neste envase engurrado
e mentres o altar de onde mirabas o ceo comeza a cubrirse co irreversible verdello as mans nos petos apalpan o cereal para que o vento siga a peitear ondas
Rebirth
After accepting that all the precious cut glass vases broke
after crawling open-mouthed through the fetid sewer tunnels
it takes courage to hold the damning look in the mirror
hold back the legs of wild horses to prevent them from running away from shame at a gallop
now that you are on the side of the spits, in the neighborhood of the outlaws, of the condemned
it remains only to be reborn in this wrinkled container
and while the altar from where you looked at the sky begins to be covered with the irreversible moss
the hands in the pockets feel the cereal so that the wind continues to comb waves
Avec les premiers rayons du printemps sur mon chemin vers les rues pétillantes je m'arrête au milieu du pont Victoria sur un fleuve où les mouettes paresseuses se laissent traîner par le courant
au lieu de donner continuité à mes plus hargneuses envies lorsque tel un insecte capturé d’un enfant je saignais mes ongles sauvages contre les murs de ma cage en verre
j’en profite pour prendre la culpabilité poisseuse la jeter par-dessus bord pour qu’en suivant le chemin des oiseaux elle aille bien se noyer au large
Léger comme celui revenu d’enfer je poursuis ma promenade humble et renouvelé d’espoir vers les champs brillant de vitamines avec un post-it collé sur ma poitrine “il-y-a toujours une porte vers la lumière”
Little Sunday poem
With the first rays of Spring on my way to the sparkling streets I stop in the middle of the Victoria Bridge on a river where lazy seagulls let themselves be dragged by the current
instead of giving continuity to my most stubborn desires when like an insect captured by a child I was bleeding my wild nails against the walls of my glass cage
I take this opportunity to hurl the sticky guilt overboard so that by following the path of the birds she's going to drown at sea
Light as the one who came back from hell I continue my walk humble and renewed with hope towards the fields shining in vitamins with a post-it stuck to my chest “there is always a door to the light”
abel abilheira 