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
 

 

Mamu bati

 

Hirira bisitan itzuli bazara, itzal mehe hori,

beharbada zeure oroitarriari begira egotera

(neure buruari galdetzen diot ea ordaindu

ote zenioten hura eraiki zuenari),

edo beharbada, umore ederrean, egunaren

amaieran itsasoaren arnasa kresaltsua edatera,

kaio grisak igarotzen diren unean, ezen ez gizakiak,

eta etxe higatuak handientsu ageri direnean,

asebete zaitez horrekin eta zoaz hemendik berriro,

lehengo lepotik daukate-eta burua.

 

Zure baitako gizon atsegin zerbitzari suhartsuak

esku betean eskaini dizkie gogoeta gorenak

haien umeen umeei, jakitun izan daitezen,

eta zirrara gozoenak ere bai, zainetarainokoak,

odol atsegin gisa, baina gizon hori lekutu egin dute

eta irainez estali beraren ahalegin neketsua,

eta laidoz bete beraren eskuzabaltasuna;

zure etsai ahobero zahar horrek

piztia talde bat bota dio gainera.

 

Zoaz, alderrai larri hori, eta Glasnevingo

estalkiaz babestu burua, belarriak hautsez gortu arte,

ez baitzaizu iritsi kresalaren arnasa dastatzeko garaia,

ez halaber izkinetan haizea entzutekoa.

Nahikoa samin izan zenuen hil aurretik.

Alde, alde! Salbuago zaude zeure hilobian.

 

To a Shade

If you have revisited the town, thin Shade, / Whether to look upon your monument / (I wonder if the builder has been paid) / Or happier-thoughted when the day is spent / To drink of that salt breath out of the sea / When grey gulls flit about instead of men, / And the gaunt houses put on majesty: / Let these content you and be gone again; / For they are at their old tricks yet. / A man of your own passionate serving kind who had brought / In his full hands what, had they only known, / Had given their children’s children loftier thought, / Sweeter emotion, working in their veins / Like gentle blood, has been driven from the place, / And insult heaped upon him for his pains, / And for his open-handedness, disgrace; / Your enemy, an old foul mouth, had set / The pack upon him. // Go, unquiet wanderer, And gather the Glasnevin coverlet / About your head till the dust stops your ear, / The time for you to taste of that salt breath / And listen at the comers has not come; / You had enough of sorrow before death — / Away, away! You are safer in the tomb.