
Harri Aroa
Senar kutun, buruko kolonizatzaile antzinako,
armiarma zahar gizen nahasmendu sareen ehule,
izan zaitez atsegina. Harrizko txori, granitozko uso
bihurtzen nauzu; egongela narras bat eraikitzen didazu
inguruan, eta, irakurtzen duzun bitartean, arretarik gabe
laztantzen aurpegi pikatua. Hizketa ozenez maspiltzen
didazu goizaurreko loa, hatza sartuz nire begi amestian. Eta
hala ere, esnametsetan, gizon indartsuek beren itzalak
proiektatzen dituzte; eguzki zurien pare murgiltzen dira
nire odol drabidiarraren marean; sekretuan isurtzen dira
hiri sakratuen azpiko estoldetan.
Partitzen zarenean, nire auto urdin mailatuan
joaten naiz itsaso urdinagoaren ertzetik.. Lasterka
igotzen ditut berrogei maila zaratatsuak, eta beste baten
atea jotzen. Bizilagunek behatxuloetatik
ikusten naute joan-etorrian,
euria bezala. Galde niri, galde guztiok,
zer ikusten duen nigan; galde niri zergatik deitzen
dioten lehoi, libertino; galde niri zer zapore duen
haren ahoak; galde niri zergatik kulunkatzen den haren eskua,
burua zakuz estalia duen sugea bezala, niri pubisetik heldu
aurretik. Galde niri zergatik erortzen den zerraldo nire
bularren gainera, errotik moztu zuhaitz tantai bat legez, eta
lo hartzen. Galde niri zergatik den bizitza labur, eta maitasuna
are laburrago; galde niri zer den estasia eta zer prezio duen…
The Stone Age
Fond husband, ancient settler in the mind, / Old fat spider, weaving webs of bewilderment, / Be kind. You turn me into a bird of stone, a granite / Dove, you build round me a shabby drawing room, / And stroke my pitted face absentmindedly while / You read. With loud talk you bruise my pre-morning sleep, / You stick a finger into my dreaming eye. And / Yet on daydreams strong men cast their shadows, they sink / Like white suns in the swell of my Dravidian blood, / Secretly flow the drains beneath sacred cities. / When you leave, I drive my blue battered car / Along the bluer sea. I run up the forty / Noisy steps to knock at another’s door. / Through peepholes, the neighbours watch, / They watch me come / And go like rain. Ask me, everybody, ask me / What he sees in me, ask me why he is called a lion, / A libertine, ask me the flavour of his / Mouth, ask me why his hand sways like a hooded snake / Before it clasps my pubis. Ask me why like / A great tree, felled, he slumps against my breasts, / And sleeps. Ask me why life is short and love is / Shorter still, ask me what is bliss and what its price...