DEATH OF A NATURALIST
All the year the flax-dam festered in the heart
Of the townland; green and heavy headed
Flax had rotted there, weighted down by huge sods.
Daily it sweltered in the punishing sun.
Bubbles gargled delicately, bluebottles
Wove a strong gauze of sound around the smell.
There were dragon-flies, spotted butterflies,
But best of all was the warm thick slobber
Of frogspawn that grew like clotted water
In the shade of the banks. Here, every spring
I would fill jampots full of the jellied
Specks to range on the window-sills at home,
On shelves at school, and wait and watch until
The fattening dots burst into nimble-
Swimming tadpoles. Miss Walls would tell us how
The daddy frog was called a bullfrog
And how he croaked and how the mammy frog
Laid hundreds of little eggs and this was
Frogspawn. You could tell the weather by frogs too
For they were yellow in the sun and brown
In rain.
Of the townland; green and heavy headed
Flax had rotted there, weighted down by huge sods.
Daily it sweltered in the punishing sun.
Bubbles gargled delicately, bluebottles
Wove a strong gauze of sound around the smell.
There were dragon-flies, spotted butterflies,
But best of all was the warm thick slobber
Of frogspawn that grew like clotted water
In the shade of the banks. Here, every spring
I would fill jampots full of the jellied
Specks to range on the window-sills at home,
On shelves at school, and wait and watch until
The fattening dots burst into nimble-
Swimming tadpoles. Miss Walls would tell us how
The daddy frog was called a bullfrog
And how he croaked and how the mammy frog
Laid hundreds of little eggs and this was
Frogspawn. You could tell the weather by frogs too
For they were yellow in the sun and brown
In rain.
Then one hot day when fields were rank
With cowdung in the grass the angry frogs
Invaded the flax-dam; I ducked through hedges
To a coarse croaking that I had not heard
Before. The air was thick with a bass chorus.
Right down the dam gross-bellied frogs were cocked
On sods; their loose necks pulsed like snails. Some hopped:
The slap and plop were obscene threats. Some sat
Poised like mud grenades, their blunt heads farting.
I sickened, turned, and ran. The great slime kings
Were gathered there for vengeance and I knew
That if I dipped my hand the spawn would clutch it.
With cowdung in the grass the angry frogs
Invaded the flax-dam; I ducked through hedges
To a coarse croaking that I had not heard
Before. The air was thick with a bass chorus.
Right down the dam gross-bellied frogs were cocked
On sods; their loose necks pulsed like snails. Some hopped:
The slap and plop were obscene threats. Some sat
Poised like mud grenades, their blunt heads farting.
I sickened, turned, and ran. The great slime kings
Were gathered there for vengeance and I knew
That if I dipped my hand the spawn would clutch it.
MUERTE DE UN NATURALISTA
Todo el año la presa de lino se ulceraba en el corazón
del pueblo, lino de flor pesada y verde.
Allí se había podrido, aplastado por enormes terrones.
Se cocía a diario bajo el sol de justicia.
Gárgaras delicadas de burbujas, moscardones azules
tejían una fuerte gasa de sonido alrededor del olor.
Había libélulas, mariposas moteadas,
pero lo mejor de todo era la baba cálida y espesa
de las huevas de rana que crecían como agua coagulada
a la sombra de las orillas. Aquí todas las primaveras
yo llenaba tarros de mermelada con los gelatinosos
granos y los colocaba en los alféizares de casa,
o en los estantes de la escuela, y miraba y esperaba hasta que
aquellos puntos engordaban y estallaban en ágiles
renacuajos nadadores. La señorita Walls nos explicaba
que la rana papá se llamaba rana toro
y que croaba, y que la mamá rana
ponía cientos de huevecillos que eran las
huevas de rana. Por las ranas también podías predecir el tiempo,
pues se ponían amarillas con el sol y marrones
con la lluvia.
Luego, un día caluroso, cuando los campos apestaban
por las boñigas en la hierba, las ranas enfadadas
invadieron la charca de lino; me colé entre los setos
atraído por un tosco croar que no había oído antes.
El aire estaba denso por un coro de bajos.
Justo abajo había ranas panzudas alerta
sobre los terrones; sus cuellos fofos se hinchaban como velas.
Algunas saltaban;
los chapoteos eran obscenas amenazas. Algunas quietas,
serenas como granadas de lodo, pedorreaban por sus chatas cabezas.
Sentí náuseas, me di la vuelta y salí corriendo. Los grandes reyes
del légamo
se habían reunido allí para vengarse, y yo sabía
que si hundía la mano, le atraparían las huevas.
(Traducción de Margarita Ardanaz)
