Daniel García Granda (La Pola, Siero, Asturies, Spain)
Poet in Asturian and Spanish and High School teacher (English) in Mieres, Asturies, Spain.
Columnist for the newspaper EL COMERCIO.
Books in Asturian: Poemes del últimu salvaxe (2012), El remediu (2014) and El raitán y el sangrín (2020)
Books in Spanish: Definición de biografía (2005, International Poetry Award Ciudad de Lepe), Cómo desaparecer completamente (2007, Águila Prize Poetry Award), Que se corra la voz (2008, International Poetry Award Ciudad de Huelva). Un limón cae (itinerario de haikus) (2006)
Children illustrated books in Asturian & Spanish: Versos d’Asturies (2017) and Amorina motosierra (2018)
ESPEYU
Dime
Paz, por qué
si les llárimes xuben
siénteste vencer.
Dime,
por qué llores
una y otra vez.
Dime
si a la vuelta
vas florecer.
Dime,
qué te pasa,
que quixeras morrer.
Dime,
quién te quier.
Dime sambre:
¿Quién yes?
MIRROR
Do tell me, Paz,
why
if your tears are back
you’re torn apart.
Tell me why you cry
again and again.
Tell me that you’ll be
in bloom
once you return.
Tell me what the matter is
that you would like
yourself
dead.
Tell me who loves you.
Tell me, deep
sorrow:
who are you?
SAMBRE
Y otra vuelta,
clisada,
quixi morrer pa nun tar viva,
pa nun sintir, pa nun saber,
pa nun dicir, pa nun facer.
Por nun topar
los güeyos de mio madre
—incrédulos, clisaos y ciegos—.
Que quier vivir ensin saber,
digna,
faciéndolo nada.
Y, asina, curiar a la nena,
pa que viva, pa que nun muerra.
Probe madre, probe nena.
DEEP SORROW
And I, absort
once again,
wanted to die not to be alive,
not to feel, not to know,
not to say, not to do.
Not to meet
my mother’s eyes
-staring skeptical and blind-.
She wants to live unaware,
yet dignified,
pretending that nothing happens.
And thus take care of her child,
so that she lives on,
so that she doesn’t die.
Poor mother, poor child.
INTRE
Arremangó
la nieve hasta’l cantu,
rutina afuega.
Los güeyos ciegos
d’espluma sanadora.
Silenciu blancu.
Son pincelaes
(El corazón palpita)
de realidá.
Quien fuisti, quien yes,
a que llevante niebla,
nel intre, espera.
Apicalbando,
—día, fruta y xenes—
Hibiernu avisa.
MEANTIME
The snow climbed
to the hilltop.
Stiffling routine.
Blind eyes.
The healing surf.
White silence.
They are brush-strokes
(heart beats)
of reality.
Who you were, who you are.
Wait for the fog to disappear
in the meantime.
Ripening
-day, fruit and temples-
The winter’s coming.
PRESENCIA
Bolines pintes.
Equí,-oh yá floreció.
La espinera y yo.
Fervidinos d’esencia.
Sí, primavera.
Allegría de lluz.
De sópitu, un mensax:
Cerezalina.
Nel teléfonu fríu.
Nun voi tocate, non
Güevín tostáu
Margaritina, sí.
PRESENCE
Blossoms, black and white.
Right here and in bloom.
Oh! Me and the Hawthorne tree.
Essence infusions.
Joys of light.
Spring at last.
Suddenly, a message:
The little cherry tree.
In the cold screen.
Oh no, I will not pluck you.
Little fried egg
Little daisy, oh yes.
Poema experiencial
Candela
Asela l’airón
Restal.la l’eiro
Fervica agua nel alicurniu
¡Axela foguera!
Alredor del carbayu
Armái una Danza
¡HERMANAS!
¡Espertái’l pandiru!
¡Cantái a La Negra!
Que la quiero ver Äi0
Bail.lar
Saltar y
Blincar
Y dar
Vueltas al
Aire.
Yá
Vuela
Yá
Siente
¡Calor!
Soi
La fuxía
—Tierra caliente, Arxel—
Negra fería.
Escorruxo’l fríu que
trai’l carbisu:
Torné.
CANDELA
The strong wind rests
The earth resounds
The water boils
in the stag’s sacred horn
Bonfire, hush!
Around the oak tree
Circle up for a dance
SISTERS!
Wake up your tambourines!
Sing to your menses!
“Que la quiero ver
Bail.lar
Saltar y
Blincar
Y dar
Vueltas al
Aire”
It flies
At last
At last
It feels
HOT!
I am the door
-Algiers, a land far and hot-
I am the black wound
I move to evade the cold
that the North wind brings along:
For I came back.