Jainkoa

Gary Whittington

Vallejo-ren arauera

Jainkoa gogoeta bat bezala zait negu hilabete hauotan,

orain, elurra antzigarrez estalirik,

eta hibaia ezkutaturik dabilenean leiaren azpitik.

Haurtzaroan bezala idurikatzen dut,

neure anaiarekin itxaroten nengoeneko emasabela ilun,

sapaia gangalakotua eta behea harrizkoa.

Tokiren batera baldin bagoaz,

norberak agian berberari egin liezaioke bisita

fresko baten antzo lau ormeetatik mintzatuz.

Jainkoarekiko hoztasun bat dago,

gela biren arteko hoztasunaren antzekoa

mutur bietako ateak higitzen direnean irekita.

Bart nire laguna eztulka hasi zen,

haren barnean, beraren ahaleginak senditu nituen hartatik libratzeko.

Durduzatzen senditzen dut Jainkoa inguratzen nauen bitartean.

Berarengadik ez iraizteko saiatzen ari da.

Zein eder haragi honen barne izan izan balitz.

Errazu esan dudana gaizki ote dagoen,

ez dut eskubiderik aurrera joateko gauza honekin.

God

After Vallejo

God occurs like a thought to me these winter months.

Now that the snow is trapped under a crust,

and the river runs unseen beneath the ice.

As in childhood I imagine

a womb where I waited with my brother, dark,

with a vaulted ceiling and stone floor.

If we come into some place,

maybe the self will visit itself

like a fresco speaking from four walls.

There is a coolness to God,

like the coolness in a hall between two rooms

when the doors at both ends swing open.

Last night my friend started to cough;

inside her, I felt her try to hold it back.

I feel God flinch as he surrounds me.

He's trying not to forte me from himself.

How good if he has shared this flesh.

Tell me if what I've said is wrong,

I have no right to go on with this thing.