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

 

Errege hila

 

Arotz bat hartu nuen

nire hilkutxa josteko.

Bertan etzan naiz bart,

burkoa borrokarako prest,

egurraren lurrinpean, aise lagaz

errege zaharrari nire gainean

har dezan arnas.

Zain nago ene gorpuzņo erailarekin hausnarrean

—denborak erail baitu—,

zain, noiz egongo marexala bezain zurrun gudu-zelaian,

zain, isiltasunak desohora nazan;

ez duzu engoitik eztulik egingo, gogoan izan.

 

Heriotza izango da izuaren amaiera

—hiltzeari diozun izuaren amaiera ere bai—;

izua, nire ahoa betetzen duen zakur,

izua, nire sudurrean gora doan simaur,

izua, ura altzairu bihurtzen den lekuan,

izua, nire bularra birringailurantz hegan,

izua, euliak belarrian burrundaran,

izua, eguzkia pizten zait altzoan,

izua, gaua itzali ezin denean

eta egunsentia, nire egunsenti arrunta,

betirako da

giltzapean.

 

Izua, patata zahar baten moduan

bertan natzan hilkutxa bat.

Nire suzko arropekin dantzatuko naiz orduan:

horra errausketa-labeko hegaldia,

itsututa tximak eta hatzak,

Jainkoa zaurituko dut,

haren bisaje urdina,

haren tirania,

haren erresuma

ahalguztiduna, nire

afrodisiakoari esker.

 

[1972]

 

The Death King

I hired a carpenter / to build my coffin / and last night I lay in it, / braced by a pillow, / sniffing the wood, / letting the old king / breathe on me, / thinking of my poor murdered body, / murdered by time, / waiting to turn stiff as a field marshal, / letting the silence dishonor me, / remembering that I'll never cough again. // Death will be the end of fear / and the fear of dying, / fear like a dog stuffed in my mouth, / feal like dung stuffed up my nose, / fear where water turns into steel, / fear as my breast flies into the Disposall, / fear as flies tremble in my ear, / fear as the sun ignites in my lap, / fear as night can't be shut off, / and the dawn, my habitual dawn, / is locked up forever. // Fear and a coffin to lie in / like a dead potato. / Even then I will dance in my dire clothes, / a crematory flight, / blinding my hair and my fingers, / wounding God with his blue face, / his tyranny, his absolute kingdom, / with my aphrodisiac.