Garai batean ibaia zen hemen
baldosak eta bankuak dauden tokian.
Dozena bat ibai baino gehiago daude hiriaren azpian,
zaharrenei kasu eginez gero.
Orain langile auzo bateko plaza besterik ez da.
Eta hiru makal dira ibaiak hor
azpian jarraitzen duen seinale bakar.
Denok dugu barruan uhola dakarren ibai estali bat.
Ez badira beldurrak, damuak dira.
Ez badira zalantzak, ezinak.
Mendebaleko haizeak astintzen ditu makalak.
Nekez egiten du oinez jendeak.
Laugarren pisuan emakume nagusi bat
leihotik arropak botatzen ari da:
alkandora beltza bota du eta gona kuadroduna
eta zetazko zapi horia eta galtzerdiak
eta herritik iritsi zen neguko egun hartan
soinean zeramatzan txarolezko zapata zuribeltzak.
Hegabera izoztuak ematen zuten bere oinek elurretan.
Haurrak arropen atzetik joan dira arineketan.
Ezkontzako soinekoa atera du azkenik,
makal batean pausatu da baldar,
txori pisuegi bat balitz bezala.
Zarata handi bat entzun da. Izutu egin dira oinezkoak.
Haizeak errotik atera du makaletako bat.
Zuhaitzaren erroek emakume nagusi baten eskua dirudite,
beste esku batek noiz laztanduko zain.
Kirmen Uribe (Spain, 1970)
– – –
There was a time a river ran through here,
there where the benches and the paving start.
A dozen rivers more underlie the city
if you believe the oldest citizens.
Now it’s a square in the workers’ quarter,
that’s all, three poplars the only sign
the river underneath keeps running.
In everyone here is a hidden river that brings floods.
If they are not fears, they’re contritions.
If they are not doubts, inabilities.
The west wind has been shaking the poplars,
people barely make their way along on foot.
From her fourth-floor window a grown woman
is throwing articles of clothing.
She’s hurled a black shirt, a plaid skirt,
the yellow silk scarf and the stockings
and the black-and-white patent-leather shoes
she wore the winter day she came in from her town.
In the snow they looked like frozen lapwings.
Children have gone racing after the clothing.
The wedding dress exited last,
has been clumsy and perched on a branch,
too heavy a bird.
We’ve heard a loud noise. The passersby have been startled.
The wind has lifted a poplar out by its roots.
They could be an old woman’s hand
awaiting any other hand’s caressing.