Centre for Romanian Studies

Rikardo ARREGI - Basque poet

Short Biography:
Rikardo Arregi (Diaz de Heredia) was born in Gasteiz in 1958. He studied psychology and trained as a teacher at Salamanca University, and studied Basque philology at the University of the Basque Country. He currently works as a secondary school teacher.

He published his first collection of poetry, Hari Hauskorrak (Fragile Threads), in 1993, and received the Spanish Critics’ Prize for it. In 1998 he wrote Kartografia (Cartography), which was also awarded the Spanish Critics’ Prize. Arregi’s poems have been included in recent Basque poetry anthologies as well as various anthologies published in Spanish, German, Slovenian, Brazilian Portuguese and Galician.

He has also been widely published in magazines. Arregi is a regular contributor to the Basque press for which he often writes leading articles and reviews, and he has taken part in many literary festivals. He has participated with other writers in collaborative translations of poetry by the Polish Nobel laureate Wislawa Szymborska, and Portuguese poets such as Sophia de Melo, Eugénio de Andrade and Jorge de Sena. He has also translated the work of the Spanish poet Ernestina de Champourcin into Basque. Other recent translations by Arregi include the works of contemporary poets Brane Mozetic, Jacek Dehnel, Cathal Ó Searcaigh and Verdinš.

PROMISIUNE TELEFONICĂ
(Rikardo ARREGI, n. 1958, Gasteiz, Ţara Bască, Spania, Poet Basc)

E greu de închipuit cum se limpezesc apele.
Iniţiativa se pierde pe drum;
iar ultima umbră de curaj se înmoaie pe asfalt
odată cu punga de plastic. Nu-i vina nimănui!
Este o vejnicie de cănd porumbeii îţi şedeau
pe umeri, acum carnea s-a făcut
tare ca piatra: doar praf şi frunze ruginite,
ape uzate, ferestre murdare şi pulbere peste tot.
Simt mirosul care l-ai lăsat în urmă.
Aduceţi trompetele, vă rog, trompetele.
Ţintesc ochii pe ele, aşteptând norii
dar cei mai negri dintre ei nu aduc ploaia.
Prin fereastră
zăresc o femeie care plânge, vorbind la telefon,
cu traista de cumpărături lăsată pe trotoar;
când era să termine conversaţia
a luat-o dela început, săraca.
Apele macină munţii aşa cum
o singură lacrimă macină, necontenit, trupul.
Ce poate fi mai tragic decât o promisiune telefonică?

Versiune în limba Română de Constantin ROMAN,
Londra, Iunie 2012

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PROMESAS POR TELÉFONO

No hay forma de saber cómo limpiar esos ríos.
Ente los automóviles, con la mente perdida,
junto con las bolsas de la compra se cae
al suelo el ánimo, no hay piedad en ningún sitio.
Ya se van aquellos tiempos en que las palomas
se posaban en el hombro, lo que sólo fue carne
se ha vuelto estatua. Por todas partes polvo
y hojarasca, aguas turbias, ventanas oscuras.
He reconocido el olor que dejaste aquí.
Necesitamos trompetas, por favor, trompetas.
Mirando al cielo en busca de nubes,
no para esperar la lluvia sino las sombras.
Al otro lado del cristal una mujer
con lágrimas en los ojos habla por teléfono,
con las bolsas de la compra desparramadas por el suelo,
parece que la vida va a terminar
pero sigue adelante por desgracia imparable.
Como el agua que erosiona el monte,
así nos erosiona el cuerpo una sóla lágrima.

¿Hay acaso algo más doloroso que las promesas por teléfono?

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TELEPHONE PROMISES

Impossible to know how to clean those rivers.
Desire is lost amidst the cars;
the last strand of courage collapses on the ground
with the shopping bags, it’s no one’s fault.
Gone are the days when doves rested on
shoulders, and mere flesh has now
become statue. Dust and fallen leaves,
murky waters, darkened windows everywhere.
I detect the smell you left behind.
We need trumpets here, please, trumpets.
I stared at the sky waiting for the clouds
and the darkest didn’t harbinger rain.
On the other side of the glass pane
a woman cries as she talks on the phone,
her shopping bags abandoned at her feet;
it feels like life is about to end
but it goes on relentlessly, wretched thing.
Rain erodes mountains and, likewise,
a single tear corrodes the body, gnaws it away.

Is anything more painful than telephone promises?

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ZIN EGITE TELEFONIKOAK

Erreka horiek nola garbitu ezin jakin.
Automobilen artean gogoa galduta
erosketa-poltsekin batera erortzen da
lurrera adorea, inon ez errukirik.
Badoaz usoak sorbaldan pausatzen ziren
garai haiek, haragia soilik izan zena
estatua bilakatu da. Edonon hautsa
eta horbela, ur arreak, leiho goibelak.
Ezagutu dut hemen utzi duzun usaina.
Tronpetak behar ditugu, mesedez, tronpetak.
Zeruari begira hodeien zain geratu
ez euriaren aiduru baizen itzalena.
Kristalaren bestaldean emakumezko bat
begiak malkotan telefonoz hitz egiten,
erosketa-poltsak lurrean barreiaturik;
badirudi bizitza bukatzera doala
baina aurrera doa tamalez geldiezin.
Mendia higatzen duen uraren antzera
higatzen digu gorputza malko bakar batek.

Ba ote dago zin egite telefonikoak baino gauza mingarriagorik?

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