Poesia kaiera
Poesia kaiera
Ezra Pound
itzulpena: Luigi Anselmi
2018, poesia
64 orrialde
978-84-17051-10-5
Ezra Pound
1885-1972
 
Poesia kaiera
Ezra Pound
itzulpena: Luigi Anselmi
2018, poesia
64 orrialde
978-84-17051-10-5
aurkibidea
Erosi: 9,50
Ebook: 3,63
 

 

Provincia deserta

 

Rochecoart-en,

non eta muinoak

                             hiru norabidetan

abiatzen baitira

eta xendra bihurriz zeharkaturiko hiru bailara

bide-sarde batean hego eta iparralderantz banatzen diren,

badago zuhaitz baso bat… likenez urdindurik.

Oinez ibili naiz han barna

                                               egun zaharrak gogoan.

Chalais-en

                                       elkarlotutako adarrez osatu estalpe bat dago;

pentsiodun zaharrak eta andere zahar babestuek

han egoteko eskubidea dute—

                                             karitatea da.

Narras ibili naiz gapirio zaharren artean

                                            behera begira,

Dronne aldera,

                           Lili xuriz beteriko xirripa baten gainean.

Ekialdean bidea hedatzen da,

                                              Aubeterre ekialdean dugu,

Hango ostatuan agure berritsu bat.

Bertako bideak ezagutzen ditut:

Ipar-ekialdean Mareuil,

                            la Tour,

Badira hiru dorre Mareuil-etik gertu,

Eta andere zahar bat Arnaut-i entzutearekin pozik,

Pozik jantzi lehorrak guri eskaini ahal izatearekin.

 

Perigord-en

sartu naiz oinez,

lastargietako sugarrak haizean kulunkan ikusi ditut goian.

Elizako aitzinaldea margotzen;

Ilunpean barre algararen zirimola entzun dut.

Ur lasterrean berriro so egitera bihurtu naiz

                                                    eta eraikin handia ikusi,

minaret luzeak ikusi, zutabe zuriak.

Ribeyrac-en izan naiz

                                    baita Sarlat-en ere,

andeatutako eskailerak igo ditut, Croy-z mintzatzen entzun,

En Bertran-en lursail zaharretan sartu naiz,

Narbonne ikusi dut, eta Cahors eta Chalus,

Excideuil ikusi dut, arretaz landu eta moldatua.

 

Hauxe esan dut:

                                 “Hemen honakoa ibili zen.

Hemen Coeur de Lion hil zuten.

                            Hemen ondo kantatzen zen.

Hemen gizon batek urratsa azkartu zuen.

                                        Hemen norbait etzan zen hatsanturik”.

Hautefort-etik hegoalderantz so egin dut,

                                        Montagnac gogoan, Hegoaldean.

Rocafixadan etzan naiz

                                        ekisartzearekin berdinduta,

kobrea ikusi dut goitik behera

                                        mendiak tindatzen.

Landak eta soroak ikusi ditut zurbil, esmeralda bat bezain garbiak,

gailur zorrotzak, mendi-bular gorak, urrutiko gazteluak.

Hauxe esan dut: “Bide zaharrak hemen egon dira.

Gizakiak bailara honetan eta horretan barna ibili dira,

bertan areto ederrak elkarretarik hurbilago zeudelarik”.

Foix ikusi dut bere harkaitz gainean, Tolosa ikusi, bai eta

                                   Arles ere, handizki aldaturik.

“Dorata” suntsitua ikusi dut

                                 eta esan:

“Riquier, Guido!”.

                               Bigarren Troiari buruz pentsatu dut,

Auvernian sobera preziatzen ez duten leku batean.

Bi gizon txanpon bat airera botatzen ari, bata gazteluaz jabeturik,

Bestea errege bidean barna kantatzera abiatu behar.

                               Emakume bati abestu zion.

Auvergne altxatu zen kantu harekin.

                              Daufinak aldeztu zuen:

“Gaztelua Austors-entzat!”.

                               “Pieire-k jarraitu zuen abesten—

Gizon jatorra zen eta atsegina”.

                               Anderea berak irabazi zuen,

Lapurtu egin zuen, eta atxiki

                              indar armatuaren kontra:

Honela amaitzen da istorioa.

Garai hura iragana da dagoeneko;

iragana, halaber, Pieire de Maensac-en bizia.

Bide hauetan barrena ibili naiz oinez;

gogoan erabili ditut, artean bizirik zirelarik.

 

Provincia Deserta

At Rochecoart, / Where the hills part / in three ways, / And three valleys, full of winding roads, / Fork out to south and north, / There is a place of trees... gray with lichen. / I have walked there / thinking of old days. / At Chalais / is a pleached arbour; / Old pensioners and old protected women / Have the right there — / it is charity. / I have crept over old rafters, / peering down / Over the Dronne, / over a stream full of lilies. / Eastward the road lies, / Aubeterre is eastward, / With a garrulous old man at the inn. / I know the roads in that place: / Mareuil to the north-east, / La Tour, / There are three keeps near Mareuil, / And an old woman, / glad to hear Arnaut, / Glad to lend one dry clothing. // I have walked / into Perigord, / I have seen the torch-flames, high-leaping, / Painting the front of that church; / Heard, under the dark, whirling laughter. / I have looked back over the stream / and seen the high building, / Seen the long minarets, the white shafts. / I have gone in Ribeyrac / and in Sarlat, / I have climbed rickety stairs, heard talk of Croy, / Walked over En Bertran’s old layout, / Have seen Narbonne, and Cahors and Chalus, / Have seen Excideuil, carefully fashioned. // I have said: / “Here such a one walked. / “Here Coeur-de-Lion was slain. / “Here was good singing. / “Here one man hastened his step. / “Here one lay panting.” / I have looked south from Hautefort, / thinking of Montaignac, southward. / I have lain in Rocafixada, / level with sunset, / Have seen the copper come down / tingeing the mountains, / I have seen the fields, pale, clear as an emerald, / Sharp peaks, high spurs, distant castles. / I have said: “The old roads have lain here. / “Men have gone by such and such valleys / “Where the great halls are closer together.” / I have seen Foix on its rock, seen Toulouse, and Arles / greatly altered, / I have seen the ruined “Dorata.” / I have said: / “Riquier! Guido.” / I have thought of the second Troy, / Some little prized place in Auvergnat: / Two men tossing a coin, one keeping a castle, / One set on the highway to sing. / He sang a woman. / Auvergne rose to the song; / The Dauphin backed him. / “The castle to Austors!” / “Pieire kept the singing — / “A fair man and a pleasant.” / He won the lady, / Stole her away for himself, kept her against armed force: / So ends that story. / That age is gone; / Pieire de Maensac is gone. / I have walked over these roads; / I have thought of them living.