Poesia kaiera
Ghanashyam
Ghanashyam,
kukuak bezala egin duzu habia nire bihotzaren pergolan.
Nire bizitza, orain arte lo zegoen oihana, pilpiraz da
musikarekin. Sekula ezagutu ez dudan bide batetik gidatzen
nauzu, baina bihurgune bakoitzean, hurbiltzen natzaizularik,
su lama espektral baten gisan desagertzen zara.
Nire otoitzontziaren garrak gatibu atxikitzen dit geroa.
Heriotzaren begi gorriari behatzen diot,
egiaren so beroa agerian.
Bizitza hezetasuna da.
Bizitza ura da, semena eta odola.
Heriotza da lehortea.
Heriotza da sauna beroa, atseden gela freskoetara ematen duena.
Heriotza da ahaidearen azken negar zotin galdua
horma gorriko gorputegiaren ondoan.
Oi Shyam, nire Ghanashyam,
berbaz ehuntzen dut jantzi bat zuretzat;
kantuz, zeru bat; halako musikaz,
ozeanoetan askatzen ditut haien dantza suharrak.
Behin oskol joko batean aritu ginen, maitalea eta biok;
haren gorputza nirearen beharrez; haren gorputz
zaharra, harro, nirearen beharraren beharrez.
Eta irritsa baretuta
bizkarra ematen zidan aldiro,
izuturik galdetzen nion: ez nauzu gehiago nahi? Ez nauzu nahi?
Jada ez? Jada ez?
Maitemindurik, poliki-poliki elurra hasi zuenean,
txori batek bezala migratu nuen klima beroagoetara:
hori zen bizirik irauteko nuen metodo bakarra.
Zuhurgabeek joko tragiko horretan jokatzen dute, haurrek bezala,
eta maiz galdu egiten dute.
Goizaldeko hiruretan, dardarka esnatzen naiz
bakardade zuri erabateko ametsetatik; nire bakardadea
desertuko eguzkiak kraskatu hezur kolorgeen gisakoa zen,
eta senarra aldiro,
loak mingostu ahoaz
musuka, maitasun xuxurlan.
Baina hura zu bada eta ni zu,
nork maite du nor?
Nor da oskola eta nor mamia?
Non da gorputza eta non arima?
Forma arraroetan etortzen zara
eta izen asko dituzu.
Egitate bat da, beraz, zu baino gehiago
maite ditudala mozorroa eta izena?
Nahita ahuldu ditzaket loturak?
Haurraren zilbor hestea sikatu eta jausten da,
baina beste konexio batzuk, beste lakio batzuk,
beste min batzuk sortzen dira.
Ghanashyam,
eguzki eternalaren ziega,
su eternalaren odola,
udako airearen ñabardura,
bake bat nahi dut besoetan eraman
dezakedana nola haur bat;
bake bat nahi dut begietako zuringoetan
lo sustan geratuko zaidana nik irribarre egitean.
Azafrai kolorez jantziek eman zidaten zure berri,
eta alde egin zutenean,
esan gabe utzi zuten horretan soilik pentsatu nuen.
Jakinduriak isilik etorri behar du.
Gonbidatuak joanak direnean,
platerak garbituak
eta argiak itzaliak,
jakinduriak haize kirriak bezala sartu behar du
ate itxiaren azpitik.
Shyam, oi Ghanashyam,
arrantzaleak bezala bota duzu sarea
nire buruko estuguneetan,
eta nire pentsamenduek zugana jo behar dute
gaur lasterka arrain liluratuen gisan…
Ghanashyam
Ghanashyam, / You have like a koel built your nest in the arbour of my heart. / My life, until now a sleeping jungle is at last astir with music. / You lead me along a route I have never known before / But at each turn when I near you / Like a spectral flame you vanish. / The flame of my prayer-lamp holds captive my future / I gaze into the red eye of death / The hot stare of truth unveiled. / Life is moisture / Life is water, semen and blood. / Death is drought / Death is the hot sauna leading to cool rest-rooms / Death is the last, lost sob of the relative / Beside the red-walled morgue. / O Shyam, my Ghanashyam / With words I weave a raiment for you / With songs a sky / With such music I liberate in the oceans their fervid dances / We played once a husk-game, my lover and I / His body needing mine, / His ageing body in its pride needing the need for mine / And each time his lust was quietened / And he turned his back on me / In panic I asked Don’t you want me any longer don’t you want me / Don’t you don’t you? / In love when the snow slowly began to fall / Like a bird I migrated to warmer climes / That was my only method of survival / In this tragic game the unwise like children play / And often lose in. / At three in the morning / I wake trembling from dreams of a stark white loneliness, / Like bleached bones cracking in the desert sun was my loneliness, / And each time my husband, / His mouth bitter with sleep, / Kisses, mumbling to me of love. / But if he is you and I am you / Who is loving who / Who is the husk who the kernel / Where is the body where is the soul / You come in strange forms / And your names are many. / Is it then a fact that I love the disguise / and the name more than I love you? / Can I consciously weaken bonds? / The child’s umbilical cord shrivels and falls / But new connections begin, new traps arise / And new pains / Ghanashyam, / The cell of the eternal sun, / The blood of the eternal fire / The hue of the summer-air, / I want a peace that I can tote / Like an infant in my arms / I want a peace that will doze / In the whites of my eyes when I smile / The ones in saffron robes told me of you / And when they left / I thought only of what they left unsaid / Wisdom must come in silence / When the guests have gone / The plates are washed / And the lights put out / Wisdom must steal in like a breeze / From beneath the shuttered door / Shyam O Ghanashyam / You have like a fisherman cast your net in the narrows / Of my mind / And towards you my thoughts today / Must race like enchanted fish...