Poesia kaiera
XVII
Ez da ezein jardinetan sortu arrosarik,
Homerorena, neurea nahiz Omarrena izan,
zeinak lurpean egonda mendeen mendetan
arrosa hilen hauts finetan, bistatik joanik
Betiko, gordeta garo eta eguzkitik,
ez baititu, lurrin biziz ardoaren gisan,
haizearen ildo grisak janzten karmesian
Uda zaharrak berri batez pizten direlarik.
Halaxe nik zin badagit “Bihotzez dut maite”,
Lilirena da zin hori dagien bihotza
Lesbia da maitalea eta Lukrezia;
Nire maitasunak, hortaz, segur gal lezake
Baldin Helena hain eder izan ez balitza
Edo gazte hil edo ez balu utzi Grezia.
XVII
No rose that in a garden ever grew, / In Homer’s or in Omar’s or in mine, / Though buried under centuries of fine / Dead dust of roses, shut from sun and dew / Forever, and forever lost from view, / But must again in fragrance rich as wine / The grey aisles of the air incarnadine / When the old summers surge into a new. / Thus when I swear, “I love with all my heart,” / ’Tis with the heart of Lilith that I swear, / ’Tis with the love of Lesbia and Lucrece; / And thus as well my love must lose some part / Of what it is, had Helen been less fair, / Or perished young, or stayed at home in Greece.