XLIII

 

Aita etortzen zan, noizean bein,

Mutilla ikusi ta nerekin itz egitera,

Ez luzaroko,

Bere ontzi ta itsas beroak

Premiatzen zuten ba.

Igarotzen dan edonondarra

Bezela zetorren,

Eskuak gerrikoan, begi gañean txapela,

Aundi ta txikieri zirika egiñaz,

Amerikatar kutsu ta aurpegi zabalakin;

Apostoluen Jarraipengain

Erretoreari bostak emanaz,

Ogeitamairu legeak ia zer esan nai zuten.

Aitak adarra jo arren

Eskoziar bulartsu zan Nanny’ri ajolarik gabe.

Gure auzoko aundikiari ziria sartzen,

Israel’ko Amar Etxadi Galduak

Emen errikotuak zeudela,

Sendoki sinisten zuenari —

Balizketa ori, aitak beatz-muturrean zeukan —

Bere ziriketetik bat bakarra zegon beti alderatua —

Nere amagiarreba, benetako adiskideak ziran eta.

 

 

 

XLIII

My father came over now and then / To look at the boy and talk to me, / Never staying long, / For the urge was strong / To get back to his yawl and the summer sea. / He came like a nomad passing by, / Hands in his pockets, hat over one eye, / Teasing every one great and small / With a blank straight face and a Yankee drawl / Teasing the Vicar on Apostolic Succession / And what the Thirty-Nine Articles really meant to convey, / Teasing Nanny, though he did not / Make much impression / On that imperturbable Scot. / Teasing our local grandee, a noble peer, / Who firmly believed the Ten Lost Tribes / Of Israel had settled here— / A theory my father had at his fingers’ ends— / Only one person was always safe from his jibes— / My mother-in-law, for they were really friends.