Poesia kaiera
Audre Lorde
itzulpena: Danele Sarriugarte
Poesia kaiera
Audre Lorde
itzulpena: Danele Sarriugarte
2016, poesia
64 orrialde
978-84-92468-82-9
Audre Lorde
1934-1992
 
 

 

Politika-harremanak

 

Taxkenteko hotel batean

Rigako ordezkari lituaniarra

arrain-hezurrei zupaka ari zen,

nireen gisako esku beroak zituen emakume Txukwu batek

belauna laztantzen zidan bitartean, afaltzeko mahaiaren azpian

bere begiak, trabeska, itsas zakur larrua bezain ilunak ziren

ez genuen bestearen hizkuntza ezagutzen.

 

“Egunen batean gure haurren bidez mintzatuko gara”

esan zuen

“zure begiei mintzatu natzaie gaur

hain da ederra zure aurpegia”

gona findun neska moskutarrak ari ziren itzultzaile

irribarretxo artean.

 

Berari begira egona nintzen hitzaldi-aretoan

idi bat bezain sendoa    ile beltz elektrikoa

leuna, oreinen brida bezain    suzko begiak

aurpegien gainean hedatzen

izotz-tundrazko zerrenda baten gisan

soka tenkatu baten bi muturrak ginen

luzatuta, promesa bat nola, bere ahoa abiapuntu

bere jendeek agurtzeko abesten zuten

adiskidetasun-doinuak kantatzen

            Hamalau mila lagun baino ez gara orain

            gauza benetan tristea da  gauza benetan tristea da

            edozein jende      edozein jende    hiltzen denean.

 

“Bai, gaur goizean aditu zaitut”

esan nuen  ukitzen ginen tokitik altxatu eta

vodka basokada bat emanez    arrosak bailiran

onartu zuen eskaintza

gure interprete errusiarren gainetik makurtu

eta musu leun bat emanez ezpainetan.

 

Gero, mahaitik altxatu eta alde egin zuen

Rigako ordezkari lituaniarrarekin.

 

Political relations

In a hotel in Tashkent / the Latvian delegate from Riga / was sucking his fishbones / as a Chukwu woman with hands as hot as mine / caressed my knee beneath the dinner table / her slanted eyes were dark as seal fur / we did not know each other's tongue. // "Someday we will talk through our children" / she said / "I spoke to your eyes this morning / you have such a beautiful face" / thin-slipped Moscow girls translated for us / smirking at each other. // And I had watched her in the Conference Hall / ox-solid black electric hair / straight as a deer's rein fire-disc eyes / sweeping over the faces / like a stretch of frozen tundra / we were two ends of one taut rope / stretched like a promise from her mouth / singing the friendship song / her people sang for greeting / There are only fourteen thousand of us left / it is a very sad thing it is a very sand thing / when any people any people dies // "Yes, I heard you this morning" / I said reaching out from the place where we touched / poured her vodka an offering / she accepted like roses / leaning across our white Russian interpreters / to kiss me softly upon my lips. // Then she got up and left / with the Latvian delegate from Riga.