Here in this house of angles
I’ve chosen one imperfect thing

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Five poems by Berta Dávila translated from Galician by Neil D. Anderson.

[Son os remendos quen nos restitúen]

by Berta Dávila

Son os remendos quen nos restitúen,

as cicatrices as que fan fogar.

Entre todos os vértices desta casa

escollo o único imperfecto,

o devir do zurcido polas liñas do día,

a poética muda do calcetín azul

rachado sempre polo calcañar.

 

                                        espido

 

[It’s the mending that restores us]

by Berta Dávila

It’s the mending that restores us,

home is made of scars.

Here in this house of angles

I’ve chosen one imperfect thing,

the slow becoming of the darn,

the silent poetry of one blue sock

always holey in the heel.

 

                                          naked

translated from Galician by Neil D. Anderson
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[Hai un paxaro mudo]

by Berta Dávila

 

Hai un paxaro mudo espreitando o silencio como un mapa,

como un delirio dondo, unha muralla,

ou un destino tráxico por dentro dos barrotes.

 

Eu, que nunca tiven nada que asexar en secreto,

que inventei o arrepío e a ansiedade

para abrazarme a eles pola noite,

 

que non souben de entre-visións

nin de velenos que me devorasen,

eu

comprendo agora:

que non quedan paredes que derrubar aquí

nin hai feridas que sandar coa urxencia

que noutrora fixo do incendio un dogma.

 

Podo salvarme desta casa tomada:

porque non hai lugares

nos que vivir felices para sempre.

[A quiet bird watches the silence like a map]

by Berta Dávila

A quiet bird watches the silence like a map,

like a soft swoon, a wall,

or a tragic fate behind the window irons.

 

I, who never lay in wait,

who invented repulsion and anxiety

and held them close at night,

 

who never knew how to see between,

how to feel the poison gnawing at me,

I

understand now:

Here there are no more walls to tear down,

nor wounds to heal with that old urgency

that made of fire a dogma.

 

I can walk away from this specter house:

because there is no place

we can live happily ever after.

translated from Galician by Neil D. Anderson
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[É fermosa a carencia]

by Berta Dávila

 

É fermosa a carencia

como é fermoso un deserto de xeo,

como os lobos son fermosos,

como son fermosos os velenos:

 

porque prenden por dentro

para que a luz se faga.

[Being without is beautiful]

by Berta Dávila

Being without is beautiful

beautiful like a desert of ice,

like wolves are beautiful

beautiful like poison:

 

because it starts a fire within

that brings light into being.

translated from Galician by Neil D. Anderson
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[Cando te coñecín]

by Berta Dávila

 

Cando te coñecín fomos simétricos

como un cristal de neve,

con esa perfección sinxela das matemáticas.

 

Non houbo treguas nin na xeometría

das nosas formas, nin na perfección

dos inseparados, nin na virtude

da repetición.

 

Moitas noites tiven medo dos números

e doutras sucesións infinitas.

[When I met you we were symmetrical]

by Berta Dávila

When I met you we were symmetrical

like a snowflake,

with the simple perfection of mathematics.

 

We were unrelenting in our geometry,

in our inseparable perfection,

virtuous

in our repetition.

 

Many nights I feared numbers

and other infinite series.

translated from Galician by Neil D. Anderson
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[Eu terei para sempre]

by Berta Dávila

Eu terei para sempre como único oficio

a custodia dos derradeiros días deste outono,

aprender as palabras necesarias para chamar por ti,

para que volvas traducir os ruídos subterráneos da cidade.

 

E para que regresen

as camelias en flor,

unha vaga emoción da neve que está por vir,

o consolo furtivo dun abrigo de la

cando as primerias brisas do serán

caen xa violentas sobre os derrotados

[I will always have as my only duty]

by Berta Dávila

I will always have as my only duty

the keeping of these last days of fall,

learning the right words to call you with, so you might

return to translate once more the city’s subterranean sounds.

 

And so the camellia

might bloom again,

a quiet rumor of coming snow,

the furtive consolation of a woolen coat

when first breezes of evening

fall violent upon the vanquished.

translated from Galician by Neil D. Anderson
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