Primero, Manhattan
Me sentenciaron a veinte años de aburrimiento
Leonard sabe a qué me refiero
Una condena a la irrelevancia
La pena de la existencia
No mísera -tampoco exageremos
Sino rutinaria, que es casi peor
Por la ausencia de la épica
Por el gris omnipresente
Por la mediocridad como norma
Bocetos de una sociedad acomodaticia
Uniforme, universalmente provinciana
Nos habían prometido otra cosa
Íbamos a tomar Manhattan, o Berlín
First, Manhattan
They sentenced me to twenty years of boredom
Leonard knows what I mean
A condemnation of irrelevance
The penalty of existence
Not miserable -let’s not get dramatic
But routine, which is almost worse
By the absence of the epic
By the ever-present grey
Mediocrity as the norm
Sketches of an accommodative society
Uniform, universally provincial
We had been promised something else
We were going to take Manhattan, or Berlin
Un espejismo más
Fuiste el espejismo de otra vida,
Breve, como son los espejismos
Irreal, como son los espejismos
Dejaste entrever trazos de otra existencia
Más sana, más calmada, más feliz
A la que sin embargo no pude acceder
Volví a mi rutina
Mis amigos de siempre, mis bares de cabecera, mi no-familia
Como si nada hubiera pasado
Como si no hubiera otras vidas
No las hay
Another mirage
You were the mirage of another life
Brief, just as mirages are
Unreal, just as mirages are
You gave me traces of another existence
Healthier, calmer, happier
To which, however, I could not access
I went back to my routine
My old friends, my hometown bars, my non-family
As if nothing had happened
As if there were no other lives
There are not
Madrid
El ansia de la hoja en blanco
Un libro abierto
(Que promete incesantes estímulos)
Del que no saldrás igual
Todo lo divino y por ende humano
La incertidumbre llevada al extremo
Las segundas oportunidades
(Y terceras, y cuartas…)
Café solo a primera hora de la mañana
Tabaco de liar
Con el calor ya despuntando
En un infierno de asfalto y hormigón
Y no el cielo
Sino esa luz…
Madrid
The craving for the blank sheet
An open book
(Which promises relentless stimuli)
And will change you forever
All that is divine and therefore human
Uncertainty taken to the extreme
Second chances
(And third, and fourth ones…)
Black coffee first thing in the morning
Snuff rolling
With the heat already breaking
In a hell of asphalt and concrete
And not heaven
But that light…
Miguel Aizpuru (Bilbao, 1992), musician, journalist and writer from the Basque Country. He
has practiced political journalism and has also published in various Basque and Spanish
cultural magazines. He prepares the publication of his first poetry book for this year 2020.
Aloka 