jueves, 10 de diciembre de 2015

164 - (Translation)

From Cuaderno de Belfast - Dublín

The verse storms me from the couch
when I stand up
to remove the tea bag
from the water
that has gone cold in the kitchen.

And Pande does not look at me
from the seashell of her dreams
as though she knew tea was cold,
that Loulee stares at her beyond the window pane.
And then the phone
dead set on hauling in the sails
of those catamarans
cutting through aging waves
in parallel.

Dublin is damp
these days,
every step is sucked into the ground,
and puddles refuse to freeze
with the excuse of not being cold enough.

I'd rather go silent,
inhabit a silence,
let the TV or the answering machine talk,
let the damp stain scream,
let the hinges tear down the voices,
but do not make me cry
because my tear evaporates in the wind of the Liffey,
my nose runs with the obsession of window blinds,
my mouth quivers from the painting with the clown and the balloons...
because I could show you my chest
the vacuum of the cleft of my memory.





jueves, 26 de noviembre de 2015

Lo peor fue volver


lunes, 23 de noviembre de 2015

Old Dun Laoghaire Road - (Translation)

From Cuaderno de Belfast - Dublín

Truth be told
I'd rather lie to you
and every word I misspell out
would rip off blood from my gums
to stem
the lie from your lips.

Truth be told
I'd rather fool you
and every syllable I swallow back
would tear apart the flesh from my tongue
to fill
the empty cleft in my palate.

Truth be told
I'd rather conceal you
and every letter I contradict
would sweep along the saliva from my mouth
to seal off
the truth in my poem.


jueves, 12 de noviembre de 2015

Monkstown Road - (Translation)

From Cuaderno de Belfast - Dublín

Sometimes, as I walk along,
a tree crosses my path on the pavement;
when she passes by I see the eyes
in the reflection of her eyes
and she runs away feigning a kiss.

Truth is that there are streets,
avenues brimming with memory
and garbage lorries
that soil the sewer manholes,
where the lips are more than a kiss.

Right before I get there
I turn left
towards less trodden tarmacs
with windows and scaffoldings
and I see your greeting
from the door of your own inferno.

miércoles, 11 de noviembre de 2015

Botanic Avenue - (Translation)

From Cuaderno de Belfast - Dublín

We walk
leaving steps we do not take behind
(but they do write us)
and we inhabit a silence
walking hand in hand
and fingers knotted together

The dog crosses the street
unaware of the traffic lights
from the corner the drunkard
shouts at that man
who is not walking on pavement opposite

We walk
at the end of the avenues we wait
for the daybreak bus to pass by
and I drag you by the hand
where rain starts to fall

Crows are perched
finding a balance on the curbs
although there is no childhood in the pavement
... and the grandpa with his walking stick
shows us the way to the water and the river

miércoles, 4 de noviembre de 2015

Annadale Embankment - (translation)

From Cuaderno de Belfast - Dublín

From the opposite bank
we are being watched by skiffs
reflecting raindrop eyes
after our steps

From the opposite bank
we are being waved by flags
and I take you by the hand
in my recollection

From the opposite bank
the cutters' wharf serves chilled guinness
windows are steamy
and you kiss my temples

From the opposite bank
you show my the pavement and the bricks
and in every corner of your body
you offer a verse for my ink

martes, 13 de octubre de 2015

Este temblor

Este temblor
esta corriente en la epidermis
esta marea de mar entre los dientes
este presente

nos remueve el centro
nos eriza el recuerdo
nos engulle el presente
nos recuerda

miércoles, 7 de octubre de 2015

Donegal Square - (translation)

From Cuaderno de Belfast - Dublín

There are squares in some cities                      (salamanca)
that are shaped after a hand                             (bruxelles)
and let us see the nerves of time                      (vosges)
with its high walls of air                                    (belfast)

there are streets and boulevards                       (anaya)
with such a longing for a kiss                          (loi)
that they end up fading out                              (blanchisserie)
in the horizon under the cobbles                      (sandhurst)

martes, 6 de octubre de 2015

Queen Victoria Street - (translation)

From Cuaderno de Belfast - Dublín

Those days it was cold on street tarmac.
We would walk since sunrise looking for arcades
where kisses tasted of remembrances and your lips.

Those days the wind was southerly.
We would open the newspaper with a childish look
to find a bed, 2x4, and a pillow.

Those days I still remember you.
You brought entangled eyes, frayed hands,
and I would wait for you at the river bank

(where my caress is reed).

lunes, 5 de octubre de 2015

Clements (Stranmillis) - (translation)

From Cuaderno de Belfast - Dublín

on the floor
tiles laid
shattered under our feet

coffee becomes rain
when we cross every doorway
and you smile behind your face

it was a time, that time,
when a scone
could be something other than mirage
       
         (not that there is no depth in mirrors)

butter melted
like fog on the pavement
and lips on your chest

then, that time
when a scone
was something other than a bun

         (may Marcel forgive me)

milk came in jugs
and sugar in rock lumps
smiles awaited

pavements dampened
with newspaper sheets
and blurred calendars

it was a time, that time,
when a scone
could be hope and time

martes, 29 de septiembre de 2015

Queen's Elms (translation)

From Cuaderno de Belfast - Dublín

The wind was blowing through the willows
your eyes were tarnished at the time
I wiped your teardrops dry
and then I kissed your lips

lunes, 28 de septiembre de 2015

Stranmillis (translation)

From Cuaderno de Belfast - Dublín

Of late my pace is slow in staircases
in departure platforms at train stations
in the vacuum of the window panes
in waiting rooms
I enter every chamber
with a name
with a lip
with this poem
late and slow

Of late my past slips away
my veins turn inside out
my papers write themselves
my window sills crumble

I tread onto the stair landings
with a straw-stuffed face
with a split lip
with this pavement feeling


lunes, 14 de septiembre de 2015

Chlorine Gardens (translation)


Walking along the trees
bridging opposing pavements
where they cling with their roots
and lips lose their moisture.
Night is overlooking
from the ivy gazebo
and the tarmac twists in the dream
like the staircase of gloom.
They bring shards of ice
those copper kisses in the sidewalks
but there are always words
and stoned writing in verse.
Memory and remembrance talk back
with their words of saliva and shudders
and the street shears my chest open
where the elm trees cast their shadow.

miércoles, 17 de junio de 2015

Crucify your Mind - Cold Fact | Rodriguez | Searching for Sugarman | Traducción | Translation | WIP

¿Era cazador o jugador
el que se cobró la deuda
y ahora se lo toma a la ligera
y ahora prostituye tu dolor?
¿Te torturaste con tu sed
por los placeres que buscas
los que te convirtieron en un fisgón
los que te convirtieron en un mamón?

Y dices que tienes algo entre manos
algo que llamas "insólito"
pero yo te he visto lamerte las heridas
mientras rodaban lágrimas por tus mejillas

Sabes que pronto me iré
sin mirar atrás
porque nací con la misión
que te mortifica
Así que convence al espejo
como mil veces antes
dando cuerpo a las sombras
dándoles cuerpo para siempre

Y supones que tienes algo que ofrecer
secretos nuevos y lustrosos
pero en ti tanto se repite
que ya se lo susurraste todo