Poesia kaiera
Isiltasunaren kartografiak
1
Hizketaldi bat hasten da
gezur batekin. Eta
hizkuntza komun deritzon horren hiztun orok
sentitzen du izotz-meta hausten, puskatzen
indarge bezala, ari balitz bezala
naturaren indar baten kontra
Poema bat has daiteke
gezur batekin. Eta birrindua izan.
Beste arau batzuk ditu hizketak
bere burua kargatzen du bere
energia aizunez. Ezin da
birrindu. Sartzen zaigu odolean. Errepikatzen da.
Bere ezin itzulizko orratzez irartzen du
ukatzen duen bakartze hori bera.
2
Musika klasikoko irrati-katea
ordurik ordu etxean jo eta jo
hartu behin eta hartu berriz
eta hartu berriz ere telefonoa
Silabak, gidoi zaharra
esaten behin eta berriro
Gezurraren sare formalean bizi den
gezurtiaren bakardadea
diala etengabe aldatuz, itotzeko laborria
esan gabeko hitzaren azpian
3
Zientziaren teknologia
Errituak, etiketa
terminoak lausotzea
hitzen edo musikaren edo
are hots gordinen
isiltasuna, ez absentzia
Isiltasuna izan daiteke plan bat
zorrotz-zorrotz betea
bizitza baterako proiektu bat
Presentzia bat da
badu historia bat forma bat
Ez bedi nahas
inolako absentziarekin
4
Zein bareak, zein kaltegabeak hasi zaizkidan
iruditzen hitz hauek
atsekabez eta amorruz hasi ziren arren.
Bide egin ote dezaket abstraktuaren film honetan
mindu gabe neure burua edo zu
bada nahikoa min hemen
Horregatik ari al da joka musika klasikoko katea, jazz-katea?
esanahi baten funtsa emateko gure minari?
5
Biluzten den isiltasuna:
Dreyerren Joana Arc-ekoaren pasioa-n
Falconettiren aurpegia, ilea motz, geografia handi bat
kamerak isilean xehe aztertua
Gerta baliteke halakorik poesiaren batean,
ez esanahien gainean larruaren gisan luzaturiko
hutsuneak edo hitzak bezala,
baizik isila amiltzen den bezala gau baten
amaieran, non bi pertsona hizketan aritu diren
egunsentira arte
6
Legez kanpoko ahots baten
garrasia
Utzi dio bere burua aditzeari, beraz
galdetu dio bere buruari
Nolatan naiz?
Isiltasun horixe nahi nizun nik hautsi
banituen galderak baina zuk erantzun ez
banuen erantzunik baina zuri balio ez
Alferrik da hau zuretzat eta akaso besterentzat
7
Kontu zaharra zen niretzat ere:
Hizkuntzak ezin du dena egin.
Idatz ezazu kleraz poeta hilen
mausoleoen paretetan
Ahalko balitz poetaren nahitara
olerki bat gauza bihurtu
hutsik utzitako marmol zati bat, ihintzak pizturiko
buru altxatu bat
Ahalko balizu begiratu besterik gabe aurpegira
begi-bola biluziz, bira egiten uzten ez dizula
harik eta zu, eta ni, zera hau aspalditik egin nahian,
azkenik biok batera haren begiradan argitu arte
8
Ez. Utzidazu edukitzen hauts hau,
hodei zurbil hauek goibel geldi, hitz hauek
zehaztasun amorratuz mugitzen
haur itsuaren hatzen gisan
edo jaioberriaren aho
gosetu bortitzaren gisan
Inork ezin dit eman, aspaldi
hartu dut metodo hau:
dela zaku xarean behera isuriz doan zahiarena
dela gas-sugar apaldu eta urdinduarena
Baldin eta tarteka inbidia badiet
bistaratzen diren agerpen aratzei
visio beatifica-ri
baldin eta tarteka nahi badut bihurtu
arto-buru sinple bati eusten ari zaion
hierofante eleusiar moduko bat
mundu konkretu eta betierekora itzultzeko,
hauxe hautatzen dut oraindik ere
hitz hauek, xuxurla hauek, elkarrizketa hauek
haietatik irteten baita kolpean egia behin eta berriz, berde eta heze
Cartographies of silence
1
A conversation begins / with a lie. And each // speaker of the so-called common language feels / the ice-floe split, the drift apart // as if powerless, as if up against / a force of nature // A poem can begin / with a lie. And be torn up. // A conversation has other laws / recharges itself with its own // false energy. Cannot be torn / up. Infiltrates our blood. Repeats itself. // Inscribes with its unreturning stylus / the isolation it denies.
2
The classical music station / playing hour upon hour in the apartment // the picking up and picking up / and again picking up the telephone // The syllables uttering / the old script over and over // The loneliness of the liar / living in the formal network of the lie // twisting the dials to drown the terror / beneath the unsaid word
3
The technology of science / The rituals, the etiquette // the blurring of terms / silence not absence // of words or music or even / raw sounds // Silence can be a plan / rigorously executed / the blueprint to a life // It is a presence / it has a history a form // Do not confuse it / with any kind of absence
4
How calm, how inoffensive these words / begin to seem to me // though begun in grief and anger / Can I break through this film of the abstract // without wounding myself or you / there is enough pain here // This is why the classical or the jazz music station plays? / to give a ground of meaning to our pain?
5
The silence that strips bare: / In Dreyer’s Passion of Joan // Falconetti’s face, hair shorn, a great geography / mutely surveyed by the camera // If there were a poetry where this could happen / not as blank spaces or as words // stretched like skin over meanings / but as silence falls at the end // of a night through which two people / have talked till dawn
6
The scream / of an illegitimate voice // It has ceased to hear itself, therefore / it asks itself // How do I exist? // This was the silence I wanted to break in you / I had questions but you would not answer // I had answers but you could not use them / This is useless to you and perhaps to others
7
It was an old theme even for me: / Language cannot do everything– // chalk it on the walls where the dead poets / lie in their mausoleums // If at the will of the poet the poem / could turn into a thing // a granite flank laid bare, a lifted head / alight with dew // If it could simply look you in the face / with naked eyeballs, not letting you turn // till you, and I who long to make this thing, / were finally clarified together in its stare
8
No. Let me have this dust, / these pale clouds dourly lingering, these words // moving with ferocious accuracy / like the blind child’s fingers // or the newborn infant’s mouth / violent with hunger // No one can give me, I have long ago / taken this method // whether of bran pouring from the loose-woven sack / or of the bunsen-flame turned low and blue // If from time to time I envy / the pure annunciations to the eye // the visio beatifica / if from time to time I long to turn // like the Eleusinian hierophant / holding up a simple ear of grain // for the return to the concrete and everlasting world / what in fact I keep choosing // are these words, these whispers, these conversations / from which time after time the truth breaks moist and green