Poesia kaiera
Poesia kaiera
Seamus Heaney
itzulpena: Xabi Borda
2017, poesia
64 orrialde
978-84-17051-05-1
Seamus Heaney
1939-2013
 
 

 

Naturalista baten heriotza

 

Urte osoan lihozko ezponda herrixka kanpoaldean

Usteltzen zen; liho berde heldu gabea

Kirastu egiten zen, soropil handien barrenean.

Tantaka hasten zen egunero eguzki errearen pean.

Burbuilak borborrean xalo, euli-mandoek

Ustel usainaren biran soinu-sare sendo bat ehuntzen zuten.

Sorgin-orratzak zebiltzan, tximeleta tantodunak,

Baina ederrena igel-arrautzen lerde bero

Eta lodi hura izaten zen, ibaiertzeko itzaletan

Ur geldia bezala hazten zena. Udaberriro

Marmelada poteak orban lirdingaz goraino beteko nituen

Etxeko leiho-erlaitzean errenkadan paratzeko,

Ikastetxeko apaletan, eta itxaron eta begiratu egingo nien

Arrautzak handitu eta zapaburu igerilari bizkorrek

Urratu arte. Walls andereñoak kontatuko zigun

Nola igel aitari igel-zezena deitzen zitzaion

Eta nola egiten zuen korroka eta nola igel amak

Ehunka arrautza txiki erruten zituen eta nola

Horixe zen igelen lerdea. Eguraldia ere iragar zenezakeen igelei esker

Hori baitziren eguzkipean eta marroi euripean.

 

Gerora, egun bero batean, belar gaineko behi gorotz plastoengatik

Kiratsa zerienean zelaiei, igel haserretuek

Lihozko ezponda hartu zuten; hesiak zeharkatu nituen makurtuta

Aurrez entzun gabeko korroka zakar baterantz.

Airea loditua zegoen lelo baxu batekin.

Ezpondaren ondoan igel tripandiak bihurrituta zeuden

Soropil gainean; haien lepagain ahulak haize-oihalak bezala mugitzen ziren.

Batzuek jauzi egiten zuten: plisti-plastak mehatxu lizunak ziren. Beste batzuk

Lasai zeuden lokatzezko granadak bailiran, euren buru soilak uzkerka zituztela.

Ondoezik jarri, buelta hartu eta lasterka hasi nintzen. Errege likatsu handiak

Mendekua hartzeko bildu ziren eta banekien

Eskua han sartzen banuen lerdeak lotu egingo ninduela.

 

Death Of A Naturalist

All year the flax-dam festered in the heart / Of the townland; green and heavy headed / Flax had rotted there, weighted down by huge sods. / Daily it sweltered in the punishing sun. / Bubbles gargled delicately, bluebottles / Wove a strong gauze of sound around the smell. / There were dragon-flies, spotted butterflies, / But best of all was the warm thick slobber / Of frogspawn that grew like clotted water / In the shade of the banks. Here, every spring / I would fill jampotfuls of the jellied / Specks to range on window-sills at home, / On shelves at school, and wait and watch until / The fattening dots burst into nimble- / Swimming tadpoles. Miss Walls would tell us how / The daddy frog was called a bullfrog / And how he croaked and how the mammy frog / Laid hundreds of little eggs and this was / Frogspawn. You could tell the weather by frogs too / For they were yellow in the sun and brown / In rain. / Then one hot day when fields were rank / With cowdung in the grass the angry frogs / Invaded the flax-dam; I ducked through hedges / To a coarse croaking that I had not heard / Before. The air was thick with a bass chorus. / Right down the dam gross-bellied frogs were cocked / On sods; their loose necks pulsed like sails. Some hopped: / The slap and plop were obscene threats. Some sat / Poised like mud grenades, their blunt heads farting. / I sickened, turned, and ran. The great slime kings / Were gathered there for vengeance and I knew / That if I dipped my hand the spawn would clutch it.