The file first
saved by my an – xi – uos fingers
remains on the hard drive of my heart;
I will not delete it.
Their errors tick – el me,
my clumsiness moving the mouse
that today is another phalanx of my hand.
The following versions are repeated, without intending to, their architecture;
a sterile farse.
Names follow one another in my address book
like a wardrobe changes as you grow.
The names are forgotten, the precise details
come out to meet us some morning
when we open a file.
My hands have lost their inn – o – cent trem – ble . . .
But we are the same people.
Translated by Curtis Bauer
“First Love” is from Nanas para hombres grises (Lullabies For Grey Men) (Diputación de Huelva, 2006).
You can read and listen to the poem in the original Spanish here.