Poesia kaiera
Udaberri kanta
Badakit zergatik dabilen forsitia horia
Arnasari eusten eta loratu nahi ezik,
Eta txantxangorria mokoa hegopean gorderik.
Esatea gura? Jasango duzula uste duzu?
Estali begiak eskuaz eta entzun ezazu.
Ez dakizu nola egunak hotzak diren oraindik?
Eta denak dauden udaberriaz berantetsirik?
Bada, kontua da ze... —begiak eskuaz estali—
Ez dela egongo udaberririk.
Hemen ez dago aparkatzerik! Hemen ez dago aparkatzerik!
—Esan zioten udaberriari— Hemen ez dago aparkatzerik!
Udaberri andrea heldu zen, beti bezala,
Eskua pausatu zuen forsitia horian...
Mutikoek buelta eman zuten lotan irribarrez,
Puxtarriak amets, harribilak amets;
Neskatoek ohetik jauzi egin zuten ikusteko
Udaberria bere gurdi pintatuekin pasatzen
—Gurdi koloredunak, liluraz kirrinka—,
Eskua pausatu zuen txantxangorriaren saman;
Eta orduan hara non datorren badakizunor, maitea,
Badakizunor jaka urdin dotore bat soinean,
Eta diotso Udaberriari: hemen ez dago aparkatzerik!
Hemen ez dago aparkatzerik! Hemen ez dago aparkatzerik!
Segi! Segi! Hemen ez dago aparkatzerik!
Etorri nirekin paseatzera hiriko lorategietan.
(Badaezpada erne ibili, agertuko balitz badakizunor)
Halako gauza gaixotirik al duzu inoiz ikusi?
Ekainaren erdia, eta ezer ere ez da hazi;
Lorezainek begiratu eta hazka eginez buruan
Izerdia ematen dute tulipen parterreetan,
Baina belar izpi bat ere ez da sortu hor.
Hala, bada, mugi! Ez dakizu oinez ala?
Hemen ez dago aparkatzerik! Eta ez erantzun atzera!
Tira ba... Ze arraio, onerako izango da.
Egia esan, sortu ohi zuen anabasa itzela,
Lore hostoak jausten utziz zuhaitzen abarora,
Eta denoi ahantzaraziz ogia nola bila.
Edozelan ere, niri bost axola zait
Akordatu egin naiteke, eta gauza bera zu.
(Baina hobe dugu argi ibili, badakizunor agertuko balitz edo,
Udaberriaz oroitzera jesartzen garelarik).
Hemendik urtebetera edo bira ia ez gara ohartuko.
Edozertara ohitzen zara azkenerako.
Spring Song
I know why the yellow forsythia / Holds its breath and will not bloom, / And the robin thrusts his beak in his wing. // Want me to tell you? Think you can bear it? / Cover your eyes with your hand and hear it. / You know how cold the days are still? / And everybody saying how late the Spring is? / Well—cover your eyes with your hand—the thing is, / There isn't going to be any Spring. // No parking here! No parking here!
They said to Spring: No parking here! // Spring came on as she always does, / Laid her hand on the yellow forsythia,— / Little boys turned in their sleep and smiled, / Dreaming of marbles, dreaming of agates; / Little girls leapt from their beds to see / Spring come by with her painted wagons, / Colored wagons creaking with wonder— // Laid her hand on the robin's throat; / When up comes you-know-who, my dear, / You-know-who in a fine blue coat, / And says to Spring: No parking here! // No parking here! No parking here!
Move on! Move on! No parking here! // Come walk with me in the city gardens. / (Better keep an eye out for you-know-who) / Did ever you see such a sickly showing?— / Middle of June, and nothing growing; / The gardeners peer and scratch their heads / And drop their sweat on the tulip-beds, / But not a blade thrusts through. // Come, move on! Don't you know how to walk?
No parking here! And no back-talk! // Oh, well—hell, it's all for the best. / She certainly made a lot of clutter, / Dropping petals under the trees, / Taking your mind off your bread and butter. / Anyhow, it's nothing to me. / I can remember, and so can you. / (Though we'd better watch out for you-know-who, / When we sit around remembering Spring). // We shall hardly notice in a year or two. / You can get accustomed to anything.