Poesia kaiera
Aurkibidea
Aurkibidea
Zoru berritua, sekula zabaldu gabea,
Laharrak hartuak bazterrak, Bill Pickering
Pistola eskuan lurrean etzanda zenean bezala,
Gaueko errondan, uniformearekin
Udako zuhaixken ilara azpian kukuturik —
Miliziano berezia.
Ilargiaren argia fusilen kanoietan,
Bidea ixten duen
Kamioiaren haizetakoan,
Pelotoi sutsuko enparauak
Alboz, zaintzaile leial,
Mulhollandstown jazarriz.
Edo ni egun argitan
Taxuz paratutako zohikatz
Zamaren gainean
Begiramenez, begiak beheratuz,
Heldu baten pare uhalak haizu eskuetan,
Gurdi zaharra zanbuluka.
Abuztuko egun hartan gose grebalariaren
Beilatokiraino joan nintzen,
Atari isil bat zeharkatuz,
Begira zegoen jendetzaren aurretik igaroz
Gorpua gaubeilan zeukaten lekuraino
Eta ohorezko guardiaren so tinkoa.
Edo bidearen amaieran orbana
Bizikletako neskatila harrapatu zuen
Auskalo nondik azkar batean merkatari batek
Bidegurutzean zakar bira eginez,
Atzeko gurpila jiraka eguzkipean,
Aurreko argia mila txiki eginda.
Filma ezazu sepia kolorez,
Margo ezazu tantaka odolez,
Wood Road egun dena eta izan zena,
Zoru berritua, sekula zabaldu gabea,
Esne-marmitaren azpia eta
Busa gelditzeko seinalea belarrak janda.
The Wood Road
Resurfaced, never widened. / The verges grassy as when / Bill Pickering lay with his gun / Under the summer hedge / Nightwatching, in uniform – // Special militiaman. // Moonlight on rifle barrels, / On the windscreen of a van / Roadblocking the road, / The rest of his patrol / Sentry-still, in profile, // Guarding Mulhollandstown. // Or me in broad daylight / On top of a cartload / Of turf hand-built and squat / As a drystone beehive hut, / Looked up to, looking down, // Allowed the reins like an adult – // In the picture at last, / The one on the whitewashed wall / Of a horse and cart and turfman / Embroidered on calico / In what they called ‘the long ago’, // Framed in passe-par-tout. // Or that August day I walked it / To the hunger striker’s wake, / Across a silent yard, / In past a watching crowd / To where the guarded corpse // And a guard of honour stared. // Film it in sepia, / Drip-paint it in blood, / This was/is the Wood Road. / Resurfaced, never widened, / The milk-can deck and the sign // For the bus-stop overgrown.