Etiqueta: portland

Publicado el

Iron Joe

iron bridge 2
Burdinezko zubia.
Bihotz burdindua.
Burdinezko trena.
Bihotza, bidaiaria.
—————–
«A sort of homecoming» belarrietan, «The Unforgettable Fire»etik aterata, treneko bagoian.
Bai, 11 urte nituen orduan.

Eta orain kantu berria:
I once knew a girl in the years of my youth
With eyes like the summer: all beauty and truth
But in the morning I fled, left a note and it read:
Someday you will be loved.

And I cannot pretend that I felt any regret
‘Cause each broken heart will eventually mend
Just as the blood runs red down the needle and thread
Someday you will be loved

You may feel alone when you’re falling asleep
And every time tears roll down your cheeks
But I know your heart belongs to…
—————–
Joe-k ez du bukatu azkeneko esaldia.
Iron Joe da, zehazki, aurrean exerita dagoen beltz gentleman kantaria.
joe
Bere erritmo eta emozioarekin, bere inprimatutako paper zimurtu, kruzifijo, mp3 (markakoa ez dena, Safeway-en erosi duena, bargain), maleta marroiarekin; kantuan aritu da bidai guztian.
—————–
Burdinezko etxea.
Eguneroko trena.
The daily train is my real home.

Eta nere bihotza,
…
Joe-en maleta marroian sartu dut.
Ahaztuta utzi dut,
Joe
The daily train is my real home
kantatzen hasi eta berehala
trenetik jeitsi naizenean.

Betirako
utzi dut hor.

(Harrezkero Joe-k egunero kantatzen du:
My iron heart is going to be an endless traveller
in the daily train, into the Joe’s brown suitcase.)
//
ftf.

Publicado el

Valentine’s

red
Bihotz bi, lehioaren alde honetan.

Bestaldean, kanpoan, ospakizun handia.
Hiriko bihotz elkartu guztientzako festa handia.
Red roses for u.

Oregonian ardo kopa gorria alde honetan.
Eta gure, Belfast-eko Lehoia, Van Morrison-en, Sweet Thing, xuxurlatzen didate belarrira.
Another glass of red wine, please, for me.
(Or maybe, anothe couple of them,
much better…
Ok…or maybe better:
Leave the bottle here…)

Red roses and wine for us.
Definitely, today is going to be
Red.
For all of us.
//
ftf.

Publicado el

Manzana & Plátano

Picture
H.k deitu dit.
Apple & Banana erosten ari nintzen.
Damien Rice tripetarako analgesikoa hartzen ere.
(Arroza, beti izan da ona for the digestion).
Damien Sushy Rice.

And Apple & Banana.
—————————
Kolgatu dut.
Kanpora begiratu dut. Lehioaren bestaldera.
Orduan gogoratu naiz, goizeko bagoian zegoen emakume boliviarrari, eseritzeko lekua eskeini diodanean. Bere haurra, sintxan-en marrazkiekin egindako manta batekin estaltzen ikusi dut bagoian sartzen. Eta bihotza uzkurtu egin zait, North Face and Columbia coat-ekin, forratuta zauden Oregonian itsuen artean. Bapatean, emakumea eta ni begira geratu gara, eta hirurak bagoiko bidaide bakar bihurtu gara, bere harridurarako. Inor ez begira. Eseri da, eta «thank u» lotsati baten ostean, nere «de nada»k, are gehiago harritu du emakumea. «Gracias Sr.» gehitu du, orduerdiera, jeisteko gestoa egin dudanean.
—————————
Apple & Banana.
Hori bakarrik jango dut gaur.
Ez dut gehiago behar, gaurkoan egunez behintzat.
—————————
Gauerokoan, arroza jango dut.
(Nahi adina.)
ftf.
//

Publicado el

Tragic-comedy (Immaculate Fools)

Goizeko kafea egin. Coffee&Drive, coffee + driveu know man.
Kotxean sartu. Eta as everyday, turn on the radio. Sitting on the Dock of the Bay, Mr. Ottis Redding. Hitz jakintsuak weekend-eko Forest Park-erako. Eta gero, Snow Patrol-en romantizismo rockeroak ikutzen dik, ziztada, atximurka berriro,…eta dena errezagoa litzateke, bentrikulu-aurikuludun aparatu hor barrutik estirpatuko balidate. Errazago for sure.
Trenean sartu. Laptop-a piztu. Umea begira. Ke seinalea.
Eta, it`s closest I can get to you.

Oraindik ere, benetako estupido inmakulatuak gara.
Oraindik bai.
Tragic-comedy.

Trena badihoa eta weekend-a badator.
Go for it.

Publicado el

Keep Running your Car (Arcade Fire)

Downtown.
Downstairs.

Two blacks and Suzanne, the blonde hair, super-perfect girl, next to me. In the Pearl District. 12th Av. Silk Vietnamitese Restaurant.

And the iPhone is telling me that this Arcade Fire is called «Keep the Car Running».

The only thing I know is my stomach belongs to me.
And nobody is going to break it any longer.

I said.
//
Meanwhile, Jhon and Martin sat down in the next table. They looked at each other. 2 seconds. And they kissed shortly.
The waitress did not trust the age. So, Martin had to show the ID. They laughed. Kissed again. Drank a couple of beers.
//
The train is going to depart, outside.
So, do not stop inside.
Keep Running your Car, man, Keep Running….
No pares joder!
Embrace your stomach and run, man, run…

And the most important thing, do not look it back.
//
I left the table like hurricane.
Jhon and Martin were steady looking at me, surprisingly, this time they did not kiss each other. They ate. And follow my trace, looking at my yellow trainers.

Keep Running your Car.
(Who’s gonna ride your wild horses?)
Someday.
Agur.