Poesia kaiera
Poesia kaiera
Anne Sexton
itzulpena: Harkaitz Cano
2015, poesia
64 orrialde
978-84-92468-66-9
Anne Sexton
1928-1974
 
 

 

Errauskine

 

Askotan irakurri duzu hau:

hamabi ume dituen iturginak

loteria irabazi du.

Komun-zulotik aberaskilora jauzi.

Istorio hori.

 

Edo umezaina,

Danimarkako neskatxa eztia,

seme zaharrena sarean bildu duena.

Pardelak utzi, Dior jantzi.

Istorio hori.

 

Edo aberatsen esnezalearena,

arrautzak, esnegaina, gurina, jogurtak, esnea,

anbulantzia dirudien kamioi zuria daukana,

higiezinetan muturra sartu eta

patriketan dirua barra-barra.

Gaingabetuak laga, martiniak dzanga.

 

Edo etxe-garbitzailearena,

autobusean doana istripuaren unean;

aseguru etxeari puska polita kentzen dionean.

Erratz Enetik Bonwit Teller boutique dotorera.

Istorio hori.

 

Behin

gizon aberats baten emaztea

azkenetan zen ohean,

Errauskine alabari esan zionean:

Izan fedea. Izan ona. Irribarre egingo dut hala,

zeruan, hodei baten joskuran.

Gizona berriz ezkondu zen, bi alaba zituen

andreak, aski ederrak,

baina bihotzaren ordez, zigor-hedeak.

Errauskine zuten neskame.

Supazter kedartsuan lo egiten zuenez

Al Jolsonen gisako, han zebilen.

 

Aitak hiritik opariak ekartzen zizkien,

pitxiak eta soinekoak beste neskentzat,

zuhaitz-adaxka soila Errauskinerentzat.

Amaren hilobian landatu zuen hark adaxka

eta zuhaitz bat hazi zen bertan.

Eta zuhaitzean uso bat pausatu.

Edozein gurari zuelarik ere berak, usoak

arrautza baten eran utziko zuen lurrera erortzen.

Txoria garrantzitsua da, lagun maiteok, kasu txoriari.

 

Gero etorri zen dantzaldia, dakizuen legez.

Ezkon-azoka galanta bai, hura.

Printzea emazte bila zebilen.

Festa handirako denak prestatu eta pinpirindu ziren,

denak, Errauskine salbu.

Errauskinek baimena eskatu zuen, erreguz.

Dilista platerkada bat jaurti zuen amaordeak

errautsetara, eta esan zion: jaso horiek

ordubetean eta joan zaitezke gero.

Uso zuriak bere lagun guztiak zituen ekarri;

aberriko hegazti jator oro lanean jarri,

eta di-da jaso zituzten dilistak.

Ez, Errauskine, esan zion amaordeak,

ez daukazu arroparik eta, nola egin dantza?

Amaordeekin, hori gertatzen da.

 

Hilobiko zuhaitzera joan zen orduan Errauskine,

eta gospel kantari intziri bat egin zuen:

Amatxo! Amatxo! Usapal nirea,

bidal nazazu dantzaldira, han da-eta printzea!

Txoriak soineko urrekara askatu zuen mokotik

eta urrezko alpargata delikatuak orpotik.

Ez da, gero, zama makala, ez zen edozein txori.

Eta halaxe joan zen. Ez da harritzekoa ere.

Amaordeak eta ahizpek ezagutu ez

aurpegiko errautsik gabe;

aldiz, printzeak, istantean hartu zuen eskutik,

egun osoz dantzarako prest, askatu gaberik.

 

Ilundu ahala, bere kolkorako, Errauskinek hobe zuela

erretira. Printzeak etxera lagundu

eta Errauskine usategian desagertu,

dena bat, eta printzeak nahiz eta aizkoraz txikitu,

Errauskine ez zuen barruan aurkitu,

hura errautsetara baitzen bildu.

 

Gertaera berberak errepikatu ziren, zenbait egunez: hiru.

Ordea, hirugarren egunean printzeak jauregiko eskailerak

argizariarekin igurtzi ditu.

Errauskineren urrezko zapata itsatsita geratu da.

Orain jakingo zuen nori zegokion zapata

eta dantzari bitxia hartuko beretzat.

Joan zen haien etxera eta bi ahizpak

txora-txora, oinak dituztelakoan eder-lora.

Joan da zaharrena gelara eta saiatu alpargata jartzen,

baina behatz lodia traban denez, zirt zart,

moztu egin du sar dadin alpargata.

Printzea harekin doa pausoka, uso zuriak

ohartarazi arte jartzeko arreta: zenbat odol.

Anputazioekin, hori gertatzen da:

ez direla sendatzen gurari bat esanda.

Beste ahizpak moztu du orpoa,

baina odolak salatu du: tantaka doa.

Printzea nekatu antzo da ordurako.

Zapata-saltzaile baten larruan sentitzen hasia.

Baina azken aldiz saiatu behar.

Errauskineren zangoa sartu da zapatan, eta ez edonola:

maitasun gutuna bere gutun-azalean nola.

Eztei egunean ahizpak datozkio

fabore-ehizan biak,

eta begiak mokoaz ateratzen dizkie uso zuriak,

bi gune barren-huts aurpegian uzteko

bi zopa-koilara mardulen antzeko.

 

Errauskine eta printzea,

bizi izan ziren pozez, betirako ustez,

museo bateko erakusleihoan legez,

inoiz gogaituko zituen ume-pardelik edo hautsik gabe,

inoiz arrautzak uretan pasatzeko behar duen denbora doiaz

eztabaidatu gabe,

inoiz istorio bera birritan kontatu gabe,

adin ertainak dakarren gerri-zabaltzerik gabe,

euren irribarre kuttunak betirako elkarri josita.

Biki jator, irribarretsu, ipuinetakoena.

Istorio hori.

 

[1971]

 

Cinderella

You always read about it: / the plumber with twelve children / who wins the Irish Sweepstakes. / From toilets to riches. / That story. // Or the nursemaid, / some luscious sweet from Denmark / who captures the oldest son’s heart. / From diapers to Dior. / That story. // Or a milkman who serves the wealthy, / eggs, cream, butter, yogurt, milk, / the white truck like an ambulance / who goes into real estate / and makes a pile. / From homogenized to martinis at lunch. // Or the charwoman / who is on the bus when it cracks up / and collects enough from the insurance. / From mops to Bonwit Teller. / That story. // Once / the wife of a rich man was on her deathbed / and she said to her daughter Cinderella: / Be devout. Be good. Then I will smile / down from heaven in the seam of a cloud. / The man took another wife who had / two daughters, pretty enough / but with hearts like blackjacks. / Cinderella was their maid. / She slept on the sooty hearth each night / and walked around looking like Al Jolson. // Her father brought presents home from town, / jewels and gowns for the other women / but the twig of a tree for Cinderella. / She planted that twig on her mother’s grave / and it grew to a tree where a white dove sat. / Whenever she wished for anything the dove / would drop it like an egg upon the ground. / The bird is important, my dears, so heed him. // Next came the ball, as you all know. / It was a marriage market. / The prince was looking for a wife. / All but Cinderella were preparing / and gussying up for the big event. / Cinderella begged to go too. / Her stepmother threw a dish of lentils / into the cinders and said: Pick them / up in an hour and you shall go. / The white dove brought all his friends; / all the warm wings of the fatherland came, / and picked up the lentils in a jiffy. / No, Cinderella, said the stepmother, / you have no clothes and cannot dance. / That's the way with stepmothers. // Cinderella went to the tree at the grave / and cried forth like a gospel singer: / Mama! Mama! My turtledove, / send me to the prince’s ball! / The bird dropped down a golden dress / and delicate little gold slippers. / Rather a large package for a simple bird. / So she went. Which is no surprise. / Her stepmother and sisters didn’t / recognize her without her cinder face / and the prince took her hand on the spot / and danced with no other the whole day. // As nightfall came she thought she’d better / get home. The prince walked her home / and she disappeared into the pigeon house / and although the prince took an axe and broke / it open she was gone. Back to her cinders. // These events repeated themselves for three days. / However on the third day the prince / covered the palace steps with cobbler’s wax / and Cinderella's gold shoe stuck upon it. / Now he would find whom the shoe fit / and find his strange dancing girl for keeps. / He went to their house and the two sisters / were delighted because they had lovely feet. / The eldest went into a room to try the slipper on / but her big toe got in the way so she simply / sliced it off and put on the slipper. / The prince rode away with her until the white dove / told him to look at the blood pouring forth. / That is the way with amputations. / They don’t just heal up like a wish. / The other sister cut off her heel / but the blood told as blood will. / The prince was getting tired. / He began to feel like a shoe salesman. / But he gave it one last try. / This time Cinderella fit into the shoe / like a love letter into its envelope. / At the wedding ceremony / the two sisters came to curry favor / and the white dove pecked their eyes out. / Two hollow spots were left / like soup spoons. // Cinderella and the prince / lived, they say, happily ever after, / like two dolls in a museum case / never bothered by diapers or dust, / never arguing over the timing of an egg, / never telling the same story twice, / never getting a middle-aged spread, / their darling smiles pasted on for eternity. / Regular Bobbsey Twins. / That story.