Poesia kaiera
Hilekoa
(Gizona da mintzo, baina bere artean,
badaki-eta andrea zelakoa den).
Ez pentsa entzun ez dudanik.
Hitz bikoitzak letaginez ondo horniturik
Eta ondo zuzendurik egin du hegan.
Sentitu dut. Saihetsean behera,
Olioa bezain kalte bako dakusat pozoi motza zara-zara:
Gu biok eta gure lagun guztiak gogortuta uzteko adinako lupua;
Baina ez nau ziztatu, beraz okerkeriak hor du akabua.
Gehiago dago esateko; ikusten dut kiribiltzen;
Mingarria izango da.
Berriz kiribiltzen; berriz ziztada.
Ezin duzu zulatu babes sare sendoa,
Nik aspaldi zirtoz eta maitasunez ehotakoa.
Nire erantzunari dagokionez... Eguzkitan inozo
Datza, letaginak gordeta:
Ez dizut gerrarik egingo.
Badakizu zein odolberoa zaren. Irrikaz zaude eraman
Zaitzaten beste gai batzuetara; eskertu ere egingo zenuke.
Herabe begiratzen didazu. Ni (elkarrekin emandako urteetan
Gauza bat baino gehiago baitut ikasirik)
Petraldu egiten naiz haize zakarragatik, eguraldi arraroagatik.
“Arraroa!” —egiten duzu hots, gaiak merezi baino
Erdeinu gordinagoz—; “Berdina da eta urtero!
‘Arraroa!’ diote muzinka baserritar txotxolook! ...Eta jaio zirenetik egundaino
Ez dute ikusi hain negutarra ez den udaberririk! Jainkoa, negargarria da gero,
Zer negargarria baina, gizon bat ikustea elikatzen dituen piztiak baino zuhurragoa ez dena...
Kaskezurra, oskola baino hutsago!”
(“Eutsi. Ez zaude ondo”).
Hori da nire pentsamendua, baina ez nire hitzak.
“Zelan da —galdetzen dizut— txori handi hori,
Papar beilegiduna, hegaldi apal eta astunekoa,
Txistu goibel hori egiten duena?”
“Larretxoria”
Erantzuten duzu pinpirin, piztuta, eta ez gutxi.
“Batzuek tiro egiten diete”. Bat-batean umel dituzu begiak
Eta kokotsa dardarka. Burua nire bularrean bermaturik,
Negarrez urtzen zara, guztiz errukarri, izan diren eta dagoeneko ez diren gauza eder
guztiengatik.
“Ze tuntuna naizen! ...zer naiz ba tuntuna!
—diozu—; Pazientzia handia duzu. Zu bai maitagarria.
Laster paratuko naiz hobeto. Baina zeruak dezala kondena
Eta bidal gorputz hau, gogoan sartuak dizkidan oin lokaztuekin, Infernu gogaikarrira!”.
Menses
(He speaks, but to himself, being aware how it is with her)
/ Think not I have not heard. / Well-fanged the double word / And well-directed flew. // I felt it. Down my side / Innocent as oil I see the ugly venom slide: / Poison enough to stiffen us both, and all our friends; / But I am not pierced, so there the mischief ends. // There is more to be said; I see it coiling; / The impact will be pain. / Yet coil; yet strike again. / You cannot riddle the stout mail I wove / Long since, of wit and love. // As for my answer ... stupid in the sun / He lies, his fangs drawn: / I will not war with you. // You know how wild you are. You are willing to be turned / To other matters; you would be grateful, even. / You watch me shyly. I (for I have learned / More things than one in our few years together) / Chafe at the churlish wind, the unseasonable weather. // “Unseasonable?” you cry, with harsher scorn / Than the theme warrants; “Every year it is the same! / ‘Unseasonable!’ they whine, these stupid peasants!— and never since they were born / Have they known a spring less wintry! Lord, the shame, / The crying shame of seeing a man no wiser than the beasts he feeds— / His skull as empty as a shell!” // (“Go to. You are unwell.”) // Such is my thought, but such are not my words. // “What is the name,” I ask, “of those big birds / With yellow breast and low and heavy flight, / That make such mournful whistling?” / “Meadowlarks,” / You answer primly, not a little cheered. / “Some people shoot them.” Suddenly your eyes are wet / And your chin trembles. On my breast you lean, / And sob most pitifully for all the lovely things that are not and have been. // “How silly I am!—and I know how silly I am!” / You say; “You are very patient. You are very kind. / I shall be better soon. Just Heaven consign and damn / To tedious Hell this body with its muddy feet in my mind!”