XVIII

 

Etxea ikusi nuen bere aritzezko eskillarakin,

   Ta Tudor Rose abe bola gañean,

Goiko berinpea, or nun

   Esan zidaten, sendiko mamua entzuten zan lekua—

“Mamu ezti ta zorigaitzekoa, ate ondoan,

   Antsi egiten duena norbait iltzen dan gauean.”

 

“Iñolaz ez”, Lady Jean’ek adierazi zun,

   “Ez St.Kitts’en nere aitaren etxekoa bezela,

Orrek burrunba ta deadar egiten West Hall aundian

   Kanpotarrak ikaratu ta beren onetik irtenaz.”

Irripar adeitsua egin nun, pentsatu gabe neronek

   Gauerdi batean antzi luze ta larri ori entzungo nuela.

 

Lorategiak ikusi nituen

Gure tea artu ondoren

   (Esne-opil eta jele, ogierre ta gozokiekin)

Gero, Drake’n bidea itsas aldera beeratuaz;

   Drake’ren berri nekiela jakitean, Lady Jean arritu,

Ingelesentzat misterioa da ba

Amerikatarrak ingelesen kondaira ikastea.

 

Seme bakoitzaren argazkiak ikusi nitun—

   Percy, zaarrena, ta John; eta Bill

Txinar jazkerakin eta Peter gazteena

   Itsas-gizon, Osborne’n oraindik;

Eta alaba, Enid, ai ene, Madras’en, urruti,

Lagunkoi arazoetan zegoen batekin ezkondua.

 

Abialdian, doi-doietan, ezertxo bat gertatu,

   —Arratsaldeko aldizkariak iritxi ziran;

John’ek begiz jo, ondorea ikus naian,

   Leenengo aldiz izen bat esan zun—

Urruneko lurralde iri baten izena

Gure biotzetan iltzailearen bidez ezarria.

 

Ama semeak alkar begiratu,

   Indar eta izu-aldiko begiratu bizia,

Pentsatu nuen: zer bost ajola Franz Ferdinand iltzen bada?

   Aietako batek sean zun:

“Au garrantzi aundikoa izan diteke”

                                                   “Bai, arrazoia daukazu.”

Besteak erantzun, “Benetan izan diteke.”

 

 

 

XVIII

I saw the house with its oaken stair, / And the Tudor Rose on the newel post, / The panelled upper gallery where / They told me you heard the family ghost— / ‘A gentle unhappy ghost who sighs / Outside one’s door on the night one dies.’ // ‘Not,’ Lady Jean explained, ‘at all / Like the ghost at my father’s place, St. Kitts, / That clanks and screams in the great West Hall / And frightens strangers out of their wits.’ / I smiled politely, not thinking I / Would hear one midnight that long sad sigh. // I saw the gardens, after our tea / (Crumpets and marmalade, toast and cake) / And Drake’s Walk, leading down to the sea; / Lady Jean was startled I’d heard of Drake, / For the English always find it a mystery / That Americans study English history. // I saw the picture of every son— / Percy, the eldest, and John; and Bill / In Chinese Customs, and the youngest one / Peter, the sailor, at Osborne still; / And the daughter, Enid, married, alas, / To a civil servant in far Madras. // A little thing happened, just before / We left—the evening papers came; / John, flicking them over to find a score, / Spoke for the first time a certain name— / The name of a town in a distant land / Etched on our hearts by a murderer’s hand. // Mother and son exchanged a glance, / A curious glance of strength and dread. / I thought: what matter to them if Franz / Ferdinand dies? One of them said: / ‘This might be serious.’ / ‘Yes, you’re right.’ / The other answered, ‘It really might.’