By Tom Kelly (UK), Published in Issue 29. Traducción por Karenina Osnaya. The North East Special Edition: Displacement (Part 1) Image: By Marg (courtesy of wiki commons)
He Showed Me His Hands like an apology. Labouring hands, swelling poultices. Aa take pain killers like sweets. Makes the hurt bearable. His firm’s closing. Still frost on the car at five when he leaves for work. Ah’m aa subby, nae pension, aa ‘hav’ ti work til ah’m sixty-five. He took a slow drink of his pint, Don’t knaa if aa can de it. I stare at his hands.
-- Tom Kelly was born in Jarrow, Tyneside and now lives further up the Tyne in Blaydon. His sixth poetry collection The Time Office: New and Selected Poems from Red Squirrel Press was published in 2012. His seventh collection I Know Their Footsteps, again from Red Squirrel Press, will be launched on September 30th at the Lit & Phil Library, Newcastle. Contact http://www.tomkelly.org.uk/ | Él Me Enseñó Sus Manos como una disculpa. Manos trabajadoras emplastos hinchados Yo tomo calmantes como si fueran dulces Hace el dolor soportable. Su negocio está cerrando. Todavía escarcha en su auto a las cinco Cuando sale para trabajar
Soy un interino, sin pensión Hay que trabajar hasta que tenga 65.
Le dio un largo trago a su cerveza, No sé si pueda hacerlo Me quedo viendo sus manos.
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