Venceume o plano inclinado
co seu baixo coeficiente de rozamento
fracasei na adaptación ás normas
así que collín a Deus polos pelos
guindeino nun cuarto escuro
onde o implacábel ollo me perdese de vista
a forza de vontade logrei esquecer
a Sua liturxia, os Seus infernos

e moitos anos despois

cando os pulmóns se desintoxicaron
os bronquios limpos da cera das velas
respirando aire de folla e herba
que a Vida levaba soplando de contínuo
comprendín que o humano 
non era un proxecto estragado
nin a imaxe fallida de ningún tirano

False gods

The inclined plane beat me
with its low coefficient of friction
I failed to adapt to the rules
so I grabbed God by the hair
and put Her in a dark room
where the implacable eye lost sight of me
by force of will I managed to forget
His liturgy, His hells

 and many years later

when the lungs have been detoxified
the bronchi cleaned of candle wax
breathing leaf and grass air
that Life had been blowing continuously
I understood that the human
was not a spoiled project
nor the failed image of any tyrant

Meu pai colocárame no sitio máis alto
E dende alí con firmes movementos
Eu dirixía todos os ventos, fortes ou mainos
Todo cheo, sen me decatar
Que non era máis ca un catavento

-ooOoo-

My father had placed me in the highest place 
and from there with firm movements 
I led all the winds 
whether they were gales or breezes 
full of confidence, without realizing 
that I was nothing more than a weather vane.

-ooOoo-

Mi padre me había colocado en el lugar más alto 
y desde allí con movimientos firmes 
dirigía todos los vientos 
ya fuesen galernas o brisas 
todo orgulloso sin darme cuenta 
que no era más que una veleta

Esta noite de novembro do 2023, 
in a north-west neighbourhood of Manchester 
j'ai rêvé de trois chiots adorables qui ont été oubliés 
during one of the last fifteen home moves
incroyablement, tous les trois avaient survécu
même on aurait dit qu'eux ils se portaient assez bien

unha especie de culpa xerada polo nomadismo
por todos os seres que foron quedando atrás
como aquel gato esquivo e asilvestrado 
ao que lle botabamos de comer
decateime que tamén facía parte da familia 
cando un mes despóis volvín á casa baleira 
e parecía terse volto realmente salvaxe
perdida xa a fe na humanidade traidora

aujourd'hui, vingt ans après, je n'arrive pas à l'oublier
I miss many loved ones left behind
sometimes I would like to have stayed in the country growing corn, herding cows

The dream

Last night on a day in November 2023 
in a north-west neighbourhood of Manchester 
I dreamed of three adorable puppies that were forgotten
during one of the last fifteen home moves
incredibly, all three had survived
even it seemed that they were doing quite well

a kind of guilt generated by nomadism 
for all the beings who were left behind
like that elusive and feral cat
that we fed even if he was not very sociable
I realized he was part of the family too
when a month later I returned to the empty house
and he seemed to have gone really crazy 
he had definitely lost faith in treacherous humanity.

today, twenty years later, I can't forget it
I miss many loved ones left behind
sometimes I would like to have stayed in the country growing corn, herding cows

Cada poema unha folla seca
Nada máis que materia orgánica
Para a alma da terra

Where do they go?

Each poem a fallen leaf
Nothing but organic matter
For the soul of the earth

I hate big shops on Saturdays
almost one hour walking 
the supermarket aisles 
to fill the fridge for the week
only surpassed by the real feat 
of the long march in every visit to Ikea

driving the way back home
with the music quite loud
I forget to switch off the indicators 
when I realise, I feel as having 
a huge light up sign on the car
"an asshole arrives"
here I am, my incompetence exposed

my worst enemy receives his favorite food

ao papel que me deron na man
cando fun concebido
prendéronlle lume no día do parto

ao comezo a chama está lonxe 
vives como se non puidese avanzar
nin te alcanzar nunca

ás veces como a calor se achega aos dedos
podes cambiar de man o agarre
gañar un tempo a maiores

un vento inimigo soplará de cara
o fogo acadará o seu obxectivo
soltarase ao fin o amarre 

de súpeto de todos os desvelos só quedan
perdidos entre a borralla 
dous versos sen rima 

In the ashes

the paper that was given in my hand 
when I was conceived 
was set on fire on the day of childbirth

at the beginning the flame is far away
you live as if it could never move forward 
or catch up with you

sometimes as the heat approaches the fingers
you can change the grip
win an extra time 

an enemy headwind will blow in your face
the fire will hit its target
the tether will eventually be released

suddenly of all the worries only remain
lost in the ashes
two verses without rhyme

London always blows its gentle breeze of warm lights over our scattered lives
Through curtainless windows like a million screens shining 
the city rest flows like a prayer 

Agora todo son excusas de pouco peso
ven a brisa lene e mas dispersa todas
este monstruo que creei ao entrar no mundo de pedra
enraizou os seus dedos de prepotencia e arrogancia
estableceu o seu hábitat en min

agora todo é xustificarse e por moito que o desterre 
encontra sempre unha fronteira descoidada
pola que asomar o fuciño

fúrame cos teus sete coitelos de ira
extirpao do mato mesto onde se agocha
guíndao no basureiro coas raices ao sol
para que dunha vez solte esta parte de min
tan dolorosa e xa tan inútil

Wrath

Now it's all flimsy excuses
the gentle breeze comes and scatters them all
this monster I created when I entered the stone world 
rooted his fingers of arrogance and self-righteousness
establishing his habitat in me

Now it's all about justifying myself and no matter how much I banish him 
always he finds a sloppy border
where to stick her nose out for

pierce me with your seven knives of wrath
remove it from the thicket where he hides
throw it in the landfill the roots upwards
this way, once and for all, I let go this part of me 
so painful and already so useless

Before the end of the year arrives, and the maelstrom prevents me from recapitulating, I leave here a list of this year’s poetry books, along with the city in which they were acquired

• Natalie Diaz  –  Postcolonial Love Poem – Manchester
• Sylvia Plath  –  Ariel – Manchester
• 21 Poetas do século XXI – Pontevedra
• Gillian Clark  –  Selected Poems – Manchester
• Modern Scottish Gaelic Poems – Manchester
• Victoria León  –  Flores de fuego – A Coruña
• Yolanda Castaño  –  Materia – A Coruña
• Atticus  –  The Truth About Magic – Manchester
• Pádraig Ó Tuama  –  Poetry Unbound – Manchester
• Owen Sheers  –  El hombre sombra – Manchester
• Paula Meehan  –  As if by Magic: Selected Poems – Manchester
• Daniel Sluman  –   Single Window – London
• Estíbaliz Espinosa  –  Curiosidade – A Coruña
• Jaime Gil de Biezma  –  Antología Poética – Vigo
• John Bejeman  –  A Ring of Bells – Liverpool
• Seán Hewitt  –  Tongues of Fire – Liverpool
• Carol Ann Duffy  –  Nature – Manchester
• José Luís Peixoto  –  Gaveta de Papéis – Porto

• Antonio García Teijeiro – Pasando as follas do tempo – Vigo

• João Luís Barreto Guimarães – Aberto todos os dias – Lisboa
• Ismael Ramos – Lixeiro – A Coruña

Um dia de outono cairão todas as folhas 
e na sua queda meus braços ficarão nus 
entre a folhagem morta, para quem saiba ver 
será revelada a minha sigilosa cegueira 
dois inúteis olhos de vidro marrom vazios 
como sementes chocas do meu percurso

Barren legacy

One autumn day, all the leaves will drop
and in its fall my arms will be naked
among the dead foliage, for the connoisseurs
my secret blindness will be revealed
two useless empty brown glass eyes
like rotten seeds of my whole journey