le pain était mon projet
sans le savoir je mélangeais
chaque semaine des farines
rajustant à chaque nouvelle pâte
les proportion blés-seigle-épautre
et c’est aujourd'hui que j’ai trouvé
la raison de ma quête
au milieu de la matinée
lorsque la tempête se démenait
à courber les arbres
et traîner par terre les poubelles
j’ai coupé une minute
le floux de travail
saisi une des tranches
et je l'approchais de mon nez
ce morceaux de pain
m’a donné un goût de yeux fermés
et voyage dans le temps
j'ai encore été le garçon
qui mangeait le pain chaud au village
chez mes grand-parents adoptifs
et j'ai pleuré en découvrant
ce que c'était le bonheur
quand il n'existait pas encore de mot
pour le nommer.
bread and tears
Bread was my project without knowing it I was mixing flour every week adjusting with each new dough wheat-rye-spelt proportions and today I found the reason for my quest in the middle of the morning when the storm raged to bend the trees and drag the wheelbins on the ground I cut off for a minute workflow seized one of the slices and held it to my nose this piece of bread gave me a taste of closed eyes and time travel I was the boy again who ate the hot bread in the village with my adoptive grandparents and I cried when I discovered what was happiness when there was no word yet to name it.
Cando a morte dorme, saio á rúa e estas fachadas de ladrillo parécenme a obra de arquitectura máis fermosa que teña creado o ser humano. O rebumbio da xente movéndose en todas direccións mentres cruzo Longsight seméllame o ballet máis logrado.
Cando a morte descansa e nos deixa volver a encher o peito de aire novo, pode estar a chover ou a nevar, pero sempre asoma un raio de sol por entre as pólas das árbores.
When death sleeps
When death sleeps, I go out into the street and these brick facades look to me like the most beautiful work of architecture that human beings have ever created. The rumble of people moving in all directions as I cross Longsight seems to me the most accomplished ballet.
When death rests and lets us fill our chests with fresh air again, it may be raining or snowing, but there is always a ray of sunshine through the branches of the trees.
o coche vai cortando isobaras como o coitelo na manteiga e as rodas da neve inchadas con soños de montaña dannos a paz de adicar o tempo a nós sós e aos buratos da vida por onde se nos desangra a esperanza como auga nunha cesta, cun ceo estrelado cruzamos a fronteira solitaria sobre o río ancho avanzamos e as estrelas esváense paseniñamente só vai quedando Venus á frente mentres baixamos cara ao sur cosendo nos furos por onde se sinte o fedor podre do inferno, o negro do ceo muda en azul escuro e un asomo de laranxa nalgures no horizonte cauteriza as feridas abertas desta noite que xa se derramou por completo ao chegar ao aeroporto só queda o luceiro axexando o noso bico de despedida
cauterize wounds
the car is cutting isobars like the knife in butter and winter tyres inflated with mountain dreams give us the peace of mind to dedicate time just to ourselves and to the holes in our lives where hope bleeds like water in a basket, with a starry sky we crossed the border lonely over the wide river as we advance the stars fade away slowly only Venus is left in front as we descend south sewing in the holes where the rotten stench is felt from hell, the black of the sky changes to dark blue and a hint of orange somewhere on the horizon cauterizes open wounds of this night that has already been completely spilled on arrival at the airport only the morning star lurks our farewell kiss
L'Univers a ses griffes peintes en rouge avec du vernis à ongles où du sang sec je crois que Lui, Il ne s'en aperçoit même pas lorsqu'Il les enfonce dans nos entrailles.
Souffle vent de l'espoir tes nuages d'amour fais tomber un brin d'humidité sur cette patrie d'ajoncs et ronces pour que le blé pousse au milieu de ces épines et que notre lot dans la forêt stérile puisse rendre ne serait-ce qu'un mini-pain jaune Délice entre nos dents fanées
Bread prayer
The Universe has Its claws painted red with nail polish or dry blood I believe that He doesn't even notice it when He thrusts them into our bowels.
Blow wind of hope your clouds of love let a bit of moisture fall on this homeland of gorse and brambles so that the wheat grows in the middle of these thorns and our plot in the barren forest can produce even just a mini yellow loaf Delight between our faded teeth
J’ai été vraiment heureux ce matin à l’aéroport de Porto; j’attendais à la porte numéro 11 le retour au Royaume Uni lorsque j’ai visité WordPress pour lire les nouvelles publications et j’ai appris que j’avais eu une dexième mention au concours de poésie dans le blog de Cristophe Condello.
This morning I have been really happy at Porto airport; when I was waiting at gate 11 for the return to UK, I saw in WordPress I got a second mention in the Cristophe Condello poetry contest, held in his blog.
Esta mañá no aeroporto do Porto, mentres agardaba a volta ao Reino Unido na porta de embarque número 11, entrei en WordPress para ler as novas publicacións dos blogs que sigo e tiven unha moi agradable sorpresa, no concurso de poesía de Cristophe Condello obtiven unha segunda mención.
Pola cámara vexo que te levantas e botas un pau máis na cociña de leña do noso fogar na tormenta volves á mesa e o son do lume envolvendo a madeira ponlle música de fondo á nosa conversa os estralidos van gañando espazo e envolvendo as palabras que pasan a desaparecer tragadas tamén polas chamas
Paseniñamente, retrocedo máis de corenta anos ata o momento no que as herbeiras e os montes eran o noso terreo de xogo e durante as grandes aventuras que alí corriamos con aquel degoiro no peito por descubrir todo o fantástico que a natureza acubillaba os pes ían enchoupándose de orballo e as mans entumecéndose pola xiada ao finalizar a expedición, ou ao aproximarse a hora da comida, o que primeiro chegase, volviamos á casa vella centro do noso universo infantil recibidos pola calor e o arrecendo doce da pota co leite das vacas a ferver; sentabámonos no banco corrido atrás da cociña de leña, o corazón da casa, o lugar máis confortable da Terra e cunha culler recolliamos a tona do leite nunha rebanada do molete empoada logo con azúcre era o mellor postre que se puider imaxinar
O noso fogar hoxe ten tamén un corazón quente onde sentirse protexido e querido mesmo no medio da treboada. O amor que se aprende de pequeno non se esquece máis.
The wood burning cooker
By the camera I see you get up and throw another log in the wood burning cooker of our home in the storm you come back to the table and the sound of the fire enveloping the wood puts background music to our conversation the crackles are gaining space and enveloping the words that are disappearing also swallowed by the flames
Slowly, I go back more than forty years to the time when grasslands and hills were our playground and during the great adventures we ran there with that thirst in our chests for discovering all the fantastic that nature sheltered our feet were soaked with dew and our hands were numb from the frost at the end of the expedition or when it was time for lunch, whichever came first, we returned to the old house in the center of our children's universe, greeted by the sweet smell of the pot with boiling cow's milk; we sat on the long bench behind the wood stove, for us the heart of the house and the center of the world with a spoon we collected the milk skin in a slice of galician country loaf - then sprinkled with sugar was the best dessert imaginable
Our home also has a warm heart today where you can feel protected and loved even in the middle of a tempest. The love you learn as a child is never forgotten.
Coas últimas apertas tento conxelar o tempo, tapar o burato por onde abrollará a cachón a tristura.
Pasamos sobre Rande despedíndome tamén da ría, ese mar recollido onde pacen rabaños de bateas. Adeus mexillóns, adeus aos oligoelementos!
Coas últimas apertas tento cargar as reservas de cariño a rebordar, para cando veña a triste soidade poder pasarlle a língua á superficie doce dos recordos e tirar as vitaminas que tornen a enfermidade como se torna unha vaca das coles.
Dígolle adeus, xa dende a ventá do avión á cidade de edificios apertados acaroada ao mar, adeus aos verdes montes salpicados de casiñas, e á fin no interior, adeus á luz e ao aire do xardín que trouxeron un adianto da primavera, adeus logo ás primeiras flores da ameixeira.
Adeus sobre todo aos teus abrazos, porta doutra dimensión onde o espazo non permita viaxar e o tempo nunca se esgote para estarmos así xuntos por sempre.
The last hugs
With the last hugs I try to freeze time, cover the hole where sadness will spring up.
We passed over Rande bridge, also saying goodbye to the estuary, that secluded sea where herds of rafts graze. Goodbye mussels, goodbye to the trace elements!
With the last hugs I try to fill the reserves of affection to overflow, so that when the sad loneliness comes I can pass my tongue to the sweet surface of memories to extract the vitamins that drive away the disease as the farmer shoos away the naughty cow that eats his cabbages.
I say goodbye, already from the plane window, to the city of tight buildings facing the sea, goodbye to the green hills dotted with houses, and eventually inside, goodbye to the light and air of the garden that brought a preview of spring, goodbye to the first plum blossoms.
And goodbye mainly to your hugs, door to another dimension where space does not allow travel and time never runs out to allow us to be together forever.
Chega a enfermidade sempre no momento inoportuno, non molestan tanto as dores que me trae como a desorganización que me deixa.
E a doenza non viu antes porque estaba tan atarefado eu que non topou unha fenda no meu horario por onde coarse.
Teño tantas tarefas pendentes, que continuaría correndo trala morte, de feito ás veces penso se sigo aínda vivo ou xa estou únicamente imaxinando unha vida e o meu corpo xace inerte nalgures.
Illness
Illness always comes at the wrong time and it is not as much the pain that it brings as the disorganization it leaves me with.
And the disease did not arrive before because I was so busy that it did not find a hole in my agenda to sneak.
I have so many pending tasks that I would continue to run after death, in fact sometimes I wonder if I’m still alive or I’m just imagining a life and my body lies inert somewhere.
abel abilheira 