Loezina - SKABIDEAN перевод на английский

Loezina

Margolan makurra bailitzan, sabaian dilindan,
Nago beharturik ibiltzera gauero museoan.
Nahiz eta bihurtu alde batera edo bertzera,
Ezin egin ihesi, ohartu beharra daukat preso naizela.
Iluntasunean hasperena, pikutara guztia,
Ea zer dioen hiriak, har dezagun airea.

Etxeko atariaren danbadaz
Haizearen hotzaren ukabilkada,
Zirimiri leunaren errezela,
Ilberri den gauaren islada...

Gizon kopetiluna, pantailari begira,
Txakur zuri txikiak egiten dio tira,
Marrazten du arkupean fatxadako farolak
Lasai erretzen ari den lagun baten ingerada.
Espaloian jarririk, izkinaren bueltan,
Punki gandor gorri baten marmar ulergaitza,
Putzu zikin baten gainean dago dantzan,
Alkohol usaina darion mozkor erotu bat.

Ordu txikitako pentsamendu sarkorrek
Loezinean murgiltzen naute,
Amesgaiztoen lapurrak dira
Atzarririk daudenen horiek hain zuzen.

Deabruen artean naiz aspalditik,
Eta azkenean egiten da ikasi
Norbera dela bere suen iturri,
Deabrurik gabe ez dela infernurik!

Argi hori margul honek nazkatu nau jada,
Auzotik at paratzen naiz itsaso beltzean soa,
Ohartzeko hura dela benetan zabala,
Nire kezka zirta bat soilik izartegi osoan.
Lasaiturik bueltan noa espaloi artera,
Dagoeneko ez zait arrotz etxerako bidea,
Deabruak uxatzeko heldu dira
Karriketan sartzen diren suzko argi-izpiak!

Ordu txikitako pentsamendu sarkorrek,
Loezinean murgiltzen naute,
Amesgaiztoen lapurrak dira
Atzarririk daudenen horiek hain zuzen.

Baina lau haizeek dezatela jakin,
Nire kezkek jabe bakarra naute ni.
Preso haiek direla dut erabaki,
Ni naiz haien mundua, ez alderantziz!

Insomnia

Like a distorted painting, dangling from the ceiling,
I'm forced to wander through the museum every night.
Though I turn one way or another,
I can't escape, I have to realize I'm a prisoner.
A sigh in the darkness, everything into pieces,
Whatever the city says, let's take the air.

By the threshold of my home
The wind's cold slap,
The drizzle's soft embrace,
The reflection of the new moon night...

A man with a receding hairline, staring at the screen,
A small white dog pulls at him,
The facade lamp draws an arc beneath him,
The silhouette of a friend calmly smoking.
Sitting on the sidewalk, around the corner,
The incomprehensible murmur of a red-crested punk,
Dancing over a dirty puddle,
A crazy madman with the smell of alcohol.

Sarcastic thoughts from the wee hours
Plunge me into insomnia,
They are the thieves of nightmares
Those who are awake, precisely.

I've been among devils for a long time,
And finally you learn
That you are the source of your own juices,
That there is no hell without a devil!

This dim yellow light has tired me already,
I stand outside the neighborhood, gazing at the black sea,
To realize how vast it truly is,
My worries are just a speck in the whole observatory.
Calmly I return to the sidewalk,
The way home is no longer strange to me,
To ward off the devils, have arrived
The fiery rays of light entering the streets!

Sarcastic thoughts from the wee hours,
Plunge me into insomnia,
They are the thieves of nightmares
Those who are awake, precisely.

But let the four winds know,
My worries have only one master, me.
I have decided that they are the prisoners,
I am their world, not the other way around!