Poesia kaiera
Uztailetik aurrera
Uztailetik aurrera, Kolonbon ez zen
tamilik ageri, ez zegoen dantzarien debutik
aretoetan; jada ez zen lore saltzailerik
etortzen atera andereen ilea lurrintzeko
jasmin sortekin. Guztiak ezkutatuta zeuden,
beldurrez nola karraskariak, eta haien usaina
arratoienaren antza hartzen hasi zen:
gorotz, kobre eta potasa nahastura bat.
Haiek ziren ehizatuak; ate atzeetan
izuzkurtzen ziren, geletako ilunantz lausoan,
begi zuringoak ņirņirka nola perlak.
Hitler altxatu zen hilen artetik eta beste
txalo zaparrada bat eskatu zuen;
dei egin zion odol ariar sendoari,
parte txarreko egoskin den horri, zeinak gizonari
bekatuen errua kentzen baitio eta eskubidea
ematen lehen adiskide zirenak hiltzeko.
Gizon drabidiar beltzaranak bere hiru urteko haurra
magalean etzan eta oihuka esan zuen: Amatxo, itxi begiak eta egin lo.
After July
After July, in Colombo there were / No Tamils in sight, no arangetrams / Were held in the halls, no flower-seller / Came again to the door with strings / Of jasmine to perfume the ladies’ hair. / Like rodents they were all holed up in fear, / Their smell began to resemble the rats’, / A mixture of dung, copper and potash. / They were the hunted; they cowered behind / Doors, in the murky twilight of their rooms, / The whites of their eyes, glimmering like pearls. / Hitler rose from the dead, he demanded / Yet another round of applause; he hailed / The robust Aryan blood, the sinister / Brew that absolves a man of his sins and / Gives him the right to kill his former friends. / The dark Dravidian laid his three year old child / On his lap. Little mother, he cried, close your eyes and sleep.