ORAINALDIKO OBITUARIOA

 

Dena bat eta bera da beretzat:

non hasten den

 

eta non bukatu. Arrautzen zuria, bere

begiaren zuria: txori esnea,

dio, esperma,

 

norbere mintzotik irristatzen

dena. Zeren eta begia

iheskorra baita,

izatez denari heltzen dio, ez hemen

 

han baino gehiago, toki orotan baizik, gauza

 

orori. Hark ez du

deus memorizatzen. Idatzi ere

 

ez du deus idazten. Gauza bizien

bihotzaz beste

 

egiten du. Itxaron egiten du.

 

Eta hasten bada, amaituko du,

begia txori baten ahoan zabaldu

 

balitzaio moduan, aurrez beste inon egoteari

ekin ez balio moduan. Mintzo da

 

hauek baino hurbilagokoak

diren distantzietatik.

 

 

 

 

OBITUARY IN THE PRESENT TENSE

It is all one to him— / where he begins // and where he ends. Egg white, the white / of his eye: he says / bird milk, sperm // sliding from the word / of himself. For the eye / is evanescent, / clings only to what is, no more here // or less there, but everywhere, every // thing. He memorizes / none of it. Nor does he write // anything down. He abstains / from the heart // of living things. He waits. // And if he begins, he will end, / as if his eye had opened in the mouth // of a bird, as if he had never begun / to be anywhere. He speaks // from distances / no less far than these.