Poesia kaiera
Zigarroak, whiskia eta
emakume benetan basatiak
(kantu batetik)
Belauniko jaio nintzen agian,
negu luzean eztulka,
errukiaren musuaren zain,
abiadak liluratuta.
Gauzek aurrera egin ahala, dena den,
aise ikasi nuen eremu hesituaren
eta isolamenduaren zentzua,
enemak dakarren gasaren esanahia.
Bi edo hiru urte betetzerako ikasi nuen jada
ez belaunikatzen,
ez itxaroten, nire suak lurpean landatzen,
panpinei soilik xuxurlatzen zaien lekuan,
han, non haiek soilik diren lotarako etzaten,
itsusi eta perfektu.
Jada hitz asko idatzi ditut,
hainbat amodio aske utzi hainbat jenderentzat,
eta beti izan nintzena izan naiz orobat:
gehiegikeriaz, pasioz eta gutiziaz betetako emakume bat.
Haatik, alferrikakoa iruditzen zait ahalegina.
Ez diot, akaso, nire buruari ispiluan so egiten egunotan,
begiztatzeko arratoi mozkor bat nirekin ezkutaketan?
Ez dut, akaso, gosea hain zorrotz sentitzen, non,
nahiago bainuke hil, hari aurpegira begiratu baino?
Beste behin belaunikatu naiz,
deskuidoan errukia baletor ere
denboraren kondarretan.
[1976]
Cigarettes and Whiskey and Wild, Wild women (from a song)
Perhaps I was born kneeling, / born coughing on the long winter, / born expecting the kiss of mercy, / born with a passion for quickness / and yet, as things progressed, / I learned early about the stockade / or taken out, the fume of the enema. / By two or three I learned not to kneel, / not to expect, to plant my fires underground / where none but the dolls, perfect and awful, / could be whispered to or laid down to die. // Now that I have written many words, / and let out so many loves, for so many, / and been altogether what I always was — / a woman of excess, of zeal and greed, / I find the effort useless. / Do I not look in the mirror, / these days, / and see a drunken rat avert her eyes? / Do I not feel the hunger so acutely / that I would rather die than look / into its face? / I kneel once more, / in case mercy should come / in the nick of time.