XLVII

 

   rosamund: Susan, zoaz zure etxera semearekin,

Iges egin. Ameriketan bizi.

   susan:                           Zergaitik?

   rosamund: Neska maitia, ez al dezu ikusten

Ingeles zabaldegian bizitzea zer dan

Landa jasotzeko orrelako errenta txikiegiekin.

Ba al zoaz? Zure itxuran zerbait aldaketa

Nabaitzen detela uste det. Zure irudia ez zaizu

Ainbeste arduratzen, edo jazten dituzunak.

Beroki ta gona oiek orain amar urte

Ez zituzun soiñean ibiliko.

Galtzerdi lodi ta bero oiek goibel arazten naute,

Zure txonkatillak, gizonak ero-arazteko

Txonkatillak ziran — begira zure ileari,

Apaintze bearrean dago — Zoaz —

Joan etxera — gogortu — ausarta izan,

Diozutena aintzat artu — bestelan mirabe

Izango zera. Zure barruan zerbait badago,

Menpeko — apala. Teilatua konpontzeko

Astero dirua zuurtuko dezu. Ea, tankatan utzi,

Zuri zer ajola?

   susan:         Bañan, ajola zait,

John’ek leku au maite zun ta nere semea nausigaia da.

 

   rosamund: Zertazko nausigaia? Bizimodu aspergarria,

Erretorearen emaztearekin te artuaz,

Azokak zabalduaz, ajola gutxiko gaietzaz

Onura artuaz. Ordain-agiri bakoitzaz kezkaraziaz,

Laterri Alkartuetan ia guztiak, beartsuak ere,

Atsegin artzen dute.

Landa jaun ondatua izatera

Ez zure semea beartu. An zoriontsuagoa,

Tranbi-zain, emen nausigai baño.

 

   susan: Rosamund maitia, ori guztia egia izan diteke,

Amerikatarra naiz soin da muin,

Ingelesen gisa ez ditut gauzak ikusten,

Bañan John’en semea bera bezela,

Landa jaun, beartsua bear bada

Azitzea beartua nago —

Igarotzen ez dan, aldatu ere ez

Goien Ingeles gisara leial.

 

   rosamund: Xoxo alena, irteera gabeko bidean gaude.

Ogei urte auetan mundu gañean

Eserita egon gera, beste errion oitura, jardun bidetzaz

Irri egiten, esne-mamitan bizi giñan.

Ori guztia bukatu da. Gaur egun

Aundikien gora beerak

Ez dute tirrit balio —

Aaria bezin illak daude. Zoaz etxera.

 

   susan: Zu ez zoazela oartzen det.

 

   rosamund: Maitia, ez zera konturatzen

Nere pareetatik nola iges egiten deten,

Oietako gozatzaille batekin ezkontzera nijoa.

“Aitch” euki bear lekuan “Aitchl”’ik ez daukana.

Orren ordez, milloi ta milloiak

Neregan banatzeko.

Ez da oso jostagarria — beste biderik ez

Aurrera egiteko — zipitzik gabe nago eta.

Zurea, bestelakoa da. Urrutira joan zintezke,

Oi, nolako tuntuna emen gelditzen bazera.

 

 

 

XLVII

rosamund: Susan, go home with your offspring Fly. Live in America. / susan: Rosamund, why ? / rosamund: Why, my dear girl, haven’t you seen / What English country life can mean / With too small an income to keep the place / Going? Already I think I trace / A change in you, you no longer care / So much how you look or what you wear. / That coat and skirt you have on, you know / You wouldn’t have worn them ten years ago. / Those thick warm stockings they make me sad, / Your ankles were ankles to drive men mad. / Look at your hair—you need a wave. / Get out—go home—be hard—be brave, / Or else, believe me, you’ll be a slave. / There’s something in you—dutiful—meek— / You’ll be saving your pin-money every week / To mend the roof. Well, let it leak. / Why should you care? / susan: But I do care. / John loved this place and my boy’s the heir. / rosamund: The heir to what? To a tiresome life / Drinking tea with the Vicar’s wife, / Opening bazaars, and taking the chair / At meetings for causes that you don’t care / Sixpence about and never will; / Breaking your heart over every bill / I’ve been in the States, where everyone, / Even the poor, have a little fun. / Don’t condemn your son to be / A penniless country squire. He / Would be happier driving a tram over there / Than mouldering his life away as heir. / susan: Rosamund dear, this may all be true. / I’m an American through and through. / I don’t see things as the English do, / But it’s clearly my duty, it seems to me, / To bring up John’s son, like him, to be / A country squire—poor, alas, / But true to that English upper class / That does not change and does not pass. / rosamund: Nonsense; it’s come to an absolute stop. / Twenty years since we sat on top / Of the world, amusing ourselves and sneering / At other manners and customs, jeering / At other nations, living in clover— / Not any more. That’s done and over. / No one nowadays cares a button / For the upper classes—they’re dead as mutton. / Go home. / susan: I notice that you don’t go. / rosamund: My dear, that shows how little you know. / I’m escaping the fate of my peers, / Marrying one of the profiteers, / Who hasn’t an ‘aitch’ where an ‘aitch’ should be, / But millions and millions to spend on me. / Not much fun—but there wasn’t any / Other way out. I haven’t a penny. / But with you it’s different. You can go away, / And oh, what a fool you’d be to stay.