Poesia kaiera
Brasil, 1502ko urtarrilaren 1a
“...brodatutako natura… tapiz bihurtutako paisaia”.
Landscape Into Art, Sir Kenneth Clark
Urtarriletan, Naturak agur egiten die gure begiei
haienei agur egingo zien era berberean:
hazbete karratu oro hostailak estalia––
hosto handiak, hosto txikiak, eta hosto erraldoiak,
urdinak, urdin-berdexkak, eta olibak,
tartekako nerbio eta ertz argiagoekin,
edo behealde satinaturen bat gora begira;
monstera-iratzeen
erliebe gris-zilarkara,
eta loreak ere, nenufar erraldoien antzera
goian, airean —edo, hobeto esanda, hostoetan—
more, hori, bi hori, arrosa,
herdoil-gorri eta zuri-berdekara;
sendo baina haizatu; fresko oraintxe bertan amaitu
eta markotik atera balituzte bezala.
Zeru zuri-urdina, sare soila,
xehetasun txikienentzako hondo:
arkutxoak, gurpil berde zurbil eta apurtua,
palmondo batzuk, beltzaranak, uzkurrak, baina finak;
eta hor pausatuta, alboz, hegalak zabalik,
txori sinboliko handiak isil-isilik,
bakoitzak bere arnasaz puztutako bular bigun
puru edo tantotuaren erdia baino ez duela erakusten.
Baina lehen planoan ere badago Bekaturik:
kedarrak zikindutako bost dragoi harritzar-multzo baten ondoan.
Harriak likenez landuta daude, landare zukutsu grisak
han-hemen pilatzen dira,
goroldioaren kolore berde biziko gar ederrek
azpitik egiten diete mehatxu,
eta mahatsondo igokariek, berriz, zeihar eta apain,
goitik eraso,
“hosto bat bai, hosto bat ez” (portugesez).
Muskerrek nekez arnasten dute; begi oro
dago pausatuta eme txikiagoan, zeina lepoz baitago
buztan gaiztoa zuzen gorantz landaredian zehar,
burdin-hari goria bezain gorri.
Eta hala etorri ziren kristauak, diamanteak bezain gogor,
diamanteak bezain txiki, distiratsu,
armadura kirrinkarietan, eta topatu zuten hau guztia,
ez guztiz ezezagun:
maitaleen ibilaldirik ez, pergolarik ez,
masustarik ez har zezaten zain, laute-musikarik ez,
baina hala ere bateragarri
aberastasun eta luxuzko amets zaharrarekin,
zeina zaharkitua baitzen etxetik atera zirenerako—
aberastasuna, plazer berri-berri batekin.
Mezetatik atera berritan, ahapetik L’Homme armé
edo halako doinuren bat kantatzen, agian,
bortizki tarratatzen zuten ehun zintzilikaria,
bakoitzak indiar bana harrapatzeko asmoz—
emakumetxo zoragarriak han ibiltzen ziren
elkarri deika, deika (edo beharbada esnatuak ziren txoriak?)
eta gordetzen, beti gordetzen, haren atzean.
Brazil, January 1, 1502
...embroidered nature... tapestried landscape. / —Landscape Into Art, by Sir Kenneth Clark
Januaries, Nature greets our eyes / exactly as she must have greeted theirs: / every square inch filling in with foliage— / big leaves, little leaves, and giant leaves, / blue, blue-green, and olive, / with occasional lighter veins and edges, / or a satin underleaf turned over; / monster ferns / in silver-gray relief, / and flowers, too, like giant water lilies / up in the air—up, rather, in the leaves— / purple, yellow, two yellows, pink, / rust red and greenish white; / solid but airy; fresh as if just finished / and taken off the frame. // A blue-white sky, a simple web, / backing for feathery detail: / brief arcs, a pale-green broken wheel, / a few palms, swarthy, squat, but delicate; / and perching there in profile, beaks agape, / the big symbolic birds keep quiet, / each showing only half his puffed and padded, / pure-colored or spotted breast. / Still in the foreground there is Sin: / five sooty dragons near some massy rocks. / The rocks are worked with lichens, gray moonbursts / splattered and overlapping, / threatened from underneath by moss / in lovely hell-green flames, / attacked above / by scaling-ladder vines, oblique and neat, / “one leaf yes and one leaf no” (in Portuguese). / The lizards scarcely breathe; all eyes / are on the smaller, female one, back-to, / her wicked tail straight up and over, / red as a red-hot wire. // Just so the Christians, hard as nails, / tiny as nails, glinting, / in creaking armor, came and found it all, / not unfamiliar: / no lovers’ walks, no bowers, / no cherries to be picked, no lute music, / but corresponding, nevertheless, / to an old dream of wealth and luxury / already out of style when they left home— / wealth, plus a brand-new pleasure. / Directly after Mass, humming perhaps / L’Homme armé or some such tune, / they ripped away into the hanging fabric, / each out to catch an Indian for himself— / those maddening little women who kept calling, / calling to each other (or had the birds waked up?) / and retreating, always retreating, behind it.