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