Poesia kaiera
Poesia kaiera
William Butler Yeats
itzulpena: Juan Kruz Igerabide
2022, poesia
64 orrialde
978-84-17051-86-0
William Butler Yeats
1865-1939
 
Poesia kaiera
William Butler Yeats
itzulpena: Juan Kruz Igerabide
2022, poesia
64 orrialde
978-84-17051-86-0
aurkibidea
 

 

Euli hankaluzeak

 

Zibilizazio hau gainbehera etor ez dadin

borroka handia galdu ondoren,

lotu txakurra, estekatu zaldia

urruneko zutabe batean.

Gure jaun Zesar bere dendan dago,

non mapak zabalik baititu,

begiak ezerezean itsatsita,

eskua kokots azpian pausaturik.

 

Euli zapatariak ur gainean bezala

mugitzen da haren gogoa isiltasunean.

 

Dorre gailenak erretzeko

eta gizakiek aurpegi hori gogoan izan dezaten,

mugitu ahalik eta emekien

leku bakarti honetan.

Neskak pentsatzen du

—heren bat emakume da eta bi heren ume—

inor ez daukala begira, eta haren oinek

dantza jolasti bat egiten dute,

kalean ikasia.

 

Euli zapatariak ur gainean bezala

mugitzen da haren gogoa isiltasunean.

 

Neskek pubertaroan beren lehen

Adam topa dezaten gogamenean,

itxi Aita Sainduaren kaperako atea

eta utzi kanpoan neska horiek.

Aldamio horretan etzanik dago

Michelangelo.

Ez du ateratzen sagu batek baino hots handiagorik

eskua hara eta hona mugitzean.

 

Euli zapatariak ur gainean bezala

mugitzen da haren gogoa isiltasunean.

 

Long-legged Fly

That civilisation may not sink, / Its great battle lost, / Quiet the dog, tether the pony / To a distant post; / Our master Caesar is in the tent / Where the maps are spread, / His eyes fixed upon nothing, / A hand under his head. // Like a long-legged fly upon the stream / His mind moves upon silence. // That the topless towers be burnt / And men recall that face, / Move most gently if move you must / In this lonely place. / She thinks, part woman, three parts a child, / That nobody looks; her feet / Practise a tinker shuffle / Picked up on a street. // Like a long-legged fly upon the stream / Her mind moves upon silence. // That girls at puberty may find / The first Adam in their thought, / Shut the door of the Pope’s chapel, / Keep those children out. / There on that scaffolding reclines / Michael Angelo. / With no more sound than the mice make / His hand moves to and fro. // Like a long-legged fly upon the stream / His mind moves upon silence.