Silver Strand

Kissing sun and silver sand between my toes.

Swim in the icy sea, salty skin under a blue sky.

Sparkles in the shoreline.

Estación de Canfranc / Canfranc Station

Te creí un lugar secreto donde jugar,
sueños de atardecer en andenes vacios,
cristal roto de una puerta verde al pasado.

Tu historia ha contado otras, 
tus muros han visto cientos de vidas pasar.

Majestuosa, donde se inventó el significado de tal palabra
abandonada que no olvidada.

Mis pasos no te devuelven la vida
mas tus fantasmas no me asustan.

Tu grandiosidad se perdió 
entre la dejadez y la nada.


......................................................


I thought you were a secret place to play,
dreams at sunset in the empty platforms,
broken glass of a green door to the past.

Your story has told so many others,
your walls have seen hundreds of lives passing by.

Stately, where the meaning of that word was invented
abandoned but not forgotten.

My steps don't bring you back to life
but your ghosts don't spook me.

Your magnificence was lost
between the negligence and the vacuum.

Giving up dreams

When you forgot how you got here,
and your shadow does not recognise you.

When you doubt if you ever chose your path
and the music can not comfort you.

When you waste your chances 
without seeing them pass by,
or you wonder if you were too selfish,
or too generous?

When the cage has you trapped and not safe,
the space suffocates you,
and an old song reminds you who you were.

On The Way Home

The train tracks wrap
the green hills.
The ruffled waves
hit Killiney Beach.
The yellow gorse 
spreads here and there.
Bluebells grow in the shade
of woods I know.

Daydream

I need to disappear
hide in a warm dark place.
Avoid the noise that surrounds me,
push my thoughts aside.
Cover my eyes and collapse,
curl up and listen to my heartbeat.

The time will pass,
the light will go
for me to find the way out.
____________________________

My thoughts are back
this time in order, with sense;
I take control of my body
and fall off my daydream.

Nocturno / Nocturne

El manto frío y blanco
me convierte en espía de la luna.

Blanca luz que esconde el infinito.

____________________


The white and freezing cloak
turns me into a spy of the moon.

White light that hides the infinity.

NY

Leaving the lead sky behind
on a delayed flight
to the frontier of my dreams.
 
Grey and other urban shades
sketch the landscape,
The city endlessly pictured
where I become tiny.

Tarmac grid you hide known places
around every corner.
Fast yellow cabs dodge 
the steam rising to the air.
 
Imaginary stories will happen
in your streets once I'm gone.

So familiar I wish to discover all of you
so vibrant I want to sit in your Park.
 
I steal some moments
wandering around
in common places for others.

Departure

Dear Winter,
we wait for your departure.
Clear skies of shining stars
that frost our dreamtime,
we wait for your departure.
Icy wind against my cheeks,
my hands and feet,
they beg for you to be gone.
There was a woman once
stuck to a blanket...
We wait for your departure.

Poker

Who is playing poker with my fate?

Who gave cards in this endless round?

I float in nothing,

feeling the vertigo of the fall.

Today

Today I don’t love you anymore.

I pay indifference with silence,

your silence I pay with distance.

You have broken something

that it’s gone and can’t ever return.

Recuerdos

Qué altas aquellas casas encaladas

que ahora parecen hundirse en las aceras.

Qué enorme aquel baño de cinc

que nos servía de alberca a los tres en el corral.

Qué alturas de vértigo desde la escalera

que nos llevaba al sotillón para esconder tesoros.

Qué enorme aquella cama de lana

que nos tragaba cada noche y nos hacía soñar.

Qué lleno de secretos el trastero, comics, libros
y artefactos misteriosos.

Qué felicidad en los días de verano, de interminables
horas perdidas en el zaguán.

Qué sensación de hogar bajo las enaguas, 
al calor de las ascuas de carbón.

Qué olvidada inocencia que nos hizo
quienes somos hoy.

Fortress

I want you near me

be sorrounded by your smile.

I want to kiss your eyes,

your nose, your chin.

Your skin reveals its warmth

brights up with the touch.

Your arms build the fortress

to protect my dreams.

November

I met you when the afternoon

was of a dark shade of grey.

I met you when the night lights

were the only sparkle

shining in the city.

I met you with cold hand

but warm spirit.

When November was about to start

I met you.

La soledad del viajero

Quizá necesite sentirme pequeña
frente al infinito.
La soledad del viajero,
y la nostalgia del que vuelve a casa.
Necesito saber de qué huyo
para alcanzar lo que me aguarda.

La trampa de mis brazos

¿Por qué esta necesidad de ti?
¿Es que acaso te quiero?
Si tuviera alguna duda,
rápido se desvanece
con el eco de mis palabras.
Palabras que pronuncio
porque estás a mi lado
y sí, para que te quedes
en la trampa de mis brazos.

En el fondo del mar

Si quieres liberarme,
dame las llaves de mi celda.
No prediques a los cuatro vientos
que me quieres libre,
si tiras las llaves al fondo del mar.

Mi camino

Adiós al desasosiego, no más miedo al abismo,
la nada, el vacío, la incertidumbre.
Piso terreno irregular, pero firme.
Sigo buscando mi norte,
pero ya he encontrado mi camino.

Your own way

Do you really want to be a foreigner?
That's why I am here.
I felt this before, in the land I called mine.
You belong to your own way.

El encuentro

En la sólida quietud
anhelo la esperanza,
sueño con el eslabón
que me mantenga unida
a mi bote salvavidas.
Encontre mi espejo,
que vació de sentido
la soledad voluntaria.

Pictures

I read in a book that the grey of the clouds

and the wet cobblestones could devour the light.

The cold and the rain will get to your bones.

Pictures of someone in exile, who ran away

from the metropolis to the charming little city



Everything depends on the color of the crystal

that one looks through. My pictures were bright,

full of green, with the cobblestones as pieces of a puzzle,

drawing the silhouette of a legendary place.

Subterranean secrets of lives lost underground

coexist with the nights that build oblivion,

of the previous generations and eras.


The grass is always greener in Edinburgh.

Trees seem statelier and of thinner twigs,

Old Town and New Town sleep in silence.

The forest of chimneys talks to me about the past,

blue sky and winter light caress my face

through the attic window.