Cuando fui pájaro
Subí al árbol de karaka
a un nido hecho de hojas
suave como las plumas.
Inventé una canción que se cantó a sí misma
sin palabras, pero era triste al final.
Había margaritas en la hierba, bajo el árbol.
Las puse a prueba y les dije:
“Arrancaré su cabeza de una mordida para darles de comer a mis
hijitos”
Pero ellas nunca creyeron que yo fuera pájaro;
y continuaron muy abiertas.
El cielo era como un nido azul con plumas blancas
y el sol, la madre pájaro que lo mantenía cálido.
Eso decía mi canción: aunque no tenía ninguna palabra.
Apareció mi Hermanito en el jardín, empujando su carretilla.
Convertí mi vestido en alas y me quedé muy quieta.
Luego, cuando estaba muy cerca le triné: “Pío, pío”
Se asustó por un segundo;
Y luego dijo: “Bah, no eres un pájaro, puedo ver
tus piernas”
Pero en verdad, las margaritas no importaban,
ni mi Hermanito importaba;
Yo me sentía un pájaro.
******************************
When I was a Bird
I climbed up the karaka tree
Into a nest all made of leaves
But soft as feathers.
I made up a song that went on singing all by itself
And hadn't any words, but got sad at the end.
There were daisies in the grass under the tree.
I said just to try them:
"I'll bite off your heads and give them to my little
children to eat."
But they didn't believe I was a bird;
They stayed quite open.
The sky was like a blue nest with white feathers
And the sun was the mother bird keeping it warm.
That's what my song said: though it hadn't any words.
Little Brother came up the patch, wheeling his barrow.
I made my dress into wings and kept very quiet.
Then when he was quite near I said: "Sweet, sweet!"
For a moment he looked quite startled;
Then he said: "Pooh, you're not a bird; I can see
your legs."
But the daisies didn't really matter,
And Little Brother didn't really matter;
I felt just like a bird.
I climbed up the karaka tree
Into a nest all made of leaves
But soft as feathers.
I made up a song that went on singing all by itself
And hadn't any words, but got sad at the end.
There were daisies in the grass under the tree.
I said just to try them:
"I'll bite off your heads and give them to my little
children to eat."
But they didn't believe I was a bird;
They stayed quite open.
The sky was like a blue nest with white feathers
And the sun was the mother bird keeping it warm.
That's what my song said: though it hadn't any words.
Little Brother came up the patch, wheeling his barrow.
I made my dress into wings and kept very quiet.
Then when he was quite near I said: "Sweet, sweet!"
For a moment he looked quite startled;
Then he said: "Pooh, you're not a bird; I can see
your legs."
But the daisies didn't really matter,
And Little Brother didn't really matter;
I felt just like a bird.
Katherine Mansfield
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