Poesia kaiera
La Boheme
Delhi:
Gure etxea hautsetan makurtzen da
iluntzeetan, bufaloak kalean gora urrats astunez
eta unaiak Punjabeko kantu leunak
abestuz pasatzen direnean, eta
doako udal eskoletako neskak
gure atean gelditzen lotsati, irribarrez.
Zer dut bada haiei eskaintzeko
nire irribarrea baizik, gauza erdi hil
iruzurti bat? Zer dut bada eskaintzeko
bake aldare honetan nire ahots
beti arranguraz dena baizik? Barka gaitzazue. Gu
kreatura miserableak gara, esnob hutsak,
geure amak arbuiatu genituenak zer eta
ohartu ginelako eskuak lanean akiturik
zituztela, hala bilatzeko ama
aberatsagoak eta helbide hobeak.
Aurrera egin behar dugu, eta segi, harik eta
geure haurrek beharbada gu ere
arbuia gaitzaten arte...
La Boheme
Delhi: / Our house crouches in dust in the / Evenings when the buffaloes tramp / Up the road, the weary herdsmen / Singing soft Punjabi songs, and / Girls from free municipal schools / Pause shyly at our gate and smile. / What have I to offer them but / My smile, a half-dead, fraudulent / Thing, what have I to offer at / This shrine of peace, but my constant, / Complaining voice? Forgive us. We / Are paltry creatures, utter snobs, / Who disowned our mothers only / Because their hands, we noticed, were / Work-worn, and so to seek richer / Mothers and better adresses / We must move on, and on, until / We too, some day, by our children / May be disowned...