Ohe zabalean

estalki brodatuaren pean

non lore eta hostoak mugimendu leunean baitabiltza beti

txori zauritua dirudi emakumeak, urmaelean atseden hartzen.

 

Ehiztariak gezia jaurti

eta paparrean jo zuen;

jo zuen, baina ez zuen hil.

«Oi, ene hegook, jaso nazazue, jaso nazazue,

ez nago larri zauriturik!».

Behera erori eta han zegoen geldi.

 

Jende atsegina hurbildu da urmael ertzera saskiekin,

«Jakina, txori gaixoak nahi duena da jana ausarki!».

Ia lehertzear dituzte beterik zorro eta sakelak

afari hondarrez eta zerbitzarien otorduko soberakinez.

Oi, zeinen pozik dauden benaz ematen aritzeaz!

«Iraganean, badakizu ongi, txit hegaldaria zinen beti.

Aldizka baizik ez zinen etortzen leiho-hegira, bakanka baizik

ez zenituen jaten lorategira botatako papur gozoak.

Hemen zati fin bat, eta hemen gutizia bat

ia ukigabea. Eta hemen saltsa-mokadu bat

eta pastela eta ogia eta ogia eta ogia eta ogia».

 

Arratsean, ohe zabalean,

non hostoak eta loreak

emeki bilbatzen baitira ilundian,

txori zauritua dirudi emakumeak, urmaelean atsedentzen.

Herabez, herabez atera du burua hegalpetik.

Zeruan bi izar ageri dira

kulunkan, distiran…

«Oi, urak, ez nazazue estali!

Luzaz eta luzaz egon nahi nuke izar eder horiei begira!

Oi, ene hegook, jaso nazazue, jaso nazazue!,

ez bainago hain larri zauriturik…».

 

 

The Wounded Bird

In the wide bed / Under the freen embroidered quilt / With flowers and leaves always in soft motion / She is like a wounded bird resting on a pool. // The hunter threw his dart

And hit her breast,— / Hit her but did not kill. / «O my wings, lift me—lift me! / I am not dreadfully hurt!». / Down she dropped and was still. // Kind people come to the edge of the pool with baskets. / «Of course what the poor bird wants is plenty of food!». / Their bags and pockets are crammed almost to bursting / With dinner scrapings and scraps from the servants' lunch. / Oh! how pleased they are to be really giving! / «In the past, you know you know, you were always so fly-away. / So seldom came to the window-sill, so rarely / Shared the delicious crumbs thrown into the yard. / Here is a delicate fragment and here a tit-bit / As good as new. And here's a morsel of relish / And cake and bread and bread and bread and bread». // At night, in the wide bed / With the leaves and flowers / Gently weaving in the darkness, / She is like a wounded bird at rest on a pool. / Timidly, timidly she lifts her head from her wing. / In the sky there are two stars / Floating, shining... / «O waters—do not cover me! / I would look long and long at those beautiful stars! / O my wings—lift me—lift me! / I am not so dreadfully hurt…».