XLII

 

Nanny’k nere semea azi zun, leen bere aita bezelaxe,

   Oitura, era ta jatorduetan zorrotz.

Aurra laztantzeko amaren eskubidea zindoki ezagutuaz,

   Amak semeeri ez dietela ezer on egiten buruan erabiliaz.

 

Lady Jean’en ezkoziar jaioterri mendi-lepo berekoa,

   Zilarra bezin buru txuria,

Sudur kakoduna, ta betaurre atzean

   Begi argi, jakiñez beteak —bai andre adoretsua!

 

Eginkizunen alde bere bizia emateko prest,

   Iritzia neri eskatu gabe, zigortzeko gertu.

“Orrela erantzuten al zaio etxekoandreari?

   Gaur ez dezu goxorik artuko.”

 

Arrisku aurrean adikor, gizonki ta neurridun,

   Oiek erakusten zizkion, neronek bezin ongi.

Uste baño leen Ikastolara joateko garaia,

   Emakumeen irakastetik alde egiteko, ikastolara.

 

Gizonezkoen mundura — zazpi urteekin,

   Goxatu, poz-eman, atxiki egingo ez zuten

Amaren eskuetatik urrun.

 

 

 

XLII

Nanny brought up my son, as his father before him, / Austere on questions of habits, manners, and food. / Nobly yielding a mother’s right to adore him, / Thinking that mothers never did sons much good. // A Scot from Lady Jean’s own native passes, / With a head as smooth and round as a silver bowl, / A crooked nose, and eyes behind her glasses / Grey and bright and wise—a great soul! // Ready to lay down her life for her charge, and ready / To administer discipline without consulting me: / ‘Is that the way for you to answer me leddy? / I think you’ll get no sweet to-night to your tea.’ // Bringing him up better than I could do it, / Teaching him to be civil and manly and cool / In the face of danger. And then before I knew it / The time came for him to go off to school. // Off to school to be free of women’s teaching, / Into a world of men—at seven years old; / Into a world where a mother’s hands vainly reaching / Will never again caress and comfort and hold.