a caza do carbairán

THE BAKER’S TALE

They roused him with muffins— they roused him with ice—

They roused him with mustard and cress—

They roused him with jam and judicious advice—

They set him conundrums to guess.

When at length he sat up and was able to speak,

His sad story he offered to tell;

And the Bellman cried "Silence! Not even a shriek!"

And excitedly tingled his bell.

There was silence supreme! Not a shriek, not a scream,

Scarcely even a howl or a groan,

As the man they called "Ho!" told his story of woe

In an antediluvian tone.

“My father and mother were honest, though poor—”

“Skip all that!” cried the Bellman in haste.

“If it once becomes dark, there's no chance of a Snark—

We have hardly a minute to waste!” 

“I skip forty years,” said the Baker, in tears,

”And proceed without further remark

To the day when you took me aboard of your ship

To help you in hunting the Snark.

“A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was named)

Remarked, when I bade him farewell—”

“Oh, skip your dear uncle!” the Bellman exclaimed,

As he angrily tingled his bell.

“He remarked to me then,” said that mildest of men,

“ ‘If your Snark be a Snark, that is right:

Fetch it home by all means—you may serve it with greens,

And it's handy for striking a light.

“ ‘You may seek it with thimbles—and seek it with care;

You may hunt it with forks and hope;

You may threaten its life with a railway-share;

You may charm it with smiles and soap—’ ”

(“That’s exactly the method,” the Bellman bold

In a hasty parenthesis cried,

“That’s exactly the way I have always been told

That the capture of Snarks should be tried!”)

"`But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day,

If your Snark be a Boojum! For then

You will softly and suddenly vanish away,

And never be met with again!'

“It is this, it is this that oppresses my soul,

When I think of my uncle’s last words:

And my heart is like nothing so much as a bowl

Brimming over with quivering curds!

“It is this, it is this—” “We have had that before!”

The Bellman indignantly said.

And the Baker replied “Let me say it once more.

It is this, it is this that I dread!

“I engage with the Snark—every night after dark—

In a dreamy delirious fight:

I serve it with greens in those shadowy scenes,

And I use it for striking a light:

“But if ever I meet with a Boojum, that day,

In a moment (of this I am sure),

I shall softly and suddenly vanish away—

And the notion I cannot endure

                                                      The Hunting of The Snark

Lewis Carroll

 Londres, 1874; con ilustracións de Henry Holiday

traducida ó galego por María Pilar J. Aleixandre

e publicada como:

A caza do Caibarán

Edicións Xerais de Galicia, 1996

O conto do Panadeiro

Acórdano con roscos e con xelos,

sinapismos, agrions e cataplasmas;

cun caldiño de grelos,

con marmelada e contos de pantasmas;

déronlle bos consellos,

puxéronlle adiviñas e enguedellos.

Cando á final, tras múltiples coidados,

Da palabra recobra o don precioso,

Saloucos afogados

Exhala, e o relato doloroso

da súa vida comeza. Entón silencia

o Capitán, con sino rumoroso,

ós mariñeiros, e áspera sentencia.

E un silencio tendeu, do cabrestante,

Sen berros, sen un chío,

Ós mastros e ó cuadrante,

E atenderon, tan pronto como ó fío

Da súa triste historia

“Aqueliño” rescata da memoria.

“O meu pai era pobre pero honesto”

“Salta esa parte, que se cae a tebra,”

(apurouno o Sineiro) “do funesto

Caibairán non se quebra

A traxectoria invicta. ¡Só un minuto

tes para a historia, de couce ó curuto!”

“Saltando corenta anos” di , e acora

Coitado Panadeiro, e mentres narra

Sete chorares chora,

“chegou o día en que soltando amarra

Do barco comezou a singradura

Para do Carbairán ir á procura.”

“Do meu esgrevio tío a despedida

Rematada, cando, o semblante adusto

Dime –Sobriño, pola túa vida…-“

“¡Terriblemente inxusto!”

Interrompe o Sineiro a relembranza

“é termos que atender  tamaña andanza”

“Díxome entón” prosegue o coitadiño

“Se o Carbairán é simple Carbairán,

Tírao do seu veciño

Tráeo a casa, sírveo con azafrán

De cachelos ornado, e á noitiña

Val para prender mistos na cociña.”

“Procúrao con tento e con dedais;

Procúrao con garfos (e esperanza)

De variados metais;

Pon a súa vida en danza

Da Renfe con accións e con billetes;

Encántao con xabón e con chupetes.”

(“¡Precisamente!”, dixo o Capitán,

“E tales son os métodos certeiros

De apañar Carbairán

Segundo contan sabios extranxeiros.

Así fun ensinado;

Isto traio en inglés fotocopiado.”)

“¡Olla sobriño que gardarte debes,

Se o Carbairán inicuo,

é Cocón que por muros e por sebes

o corpo agocha oblicou,

pois repentinamente e sen dar chío

vas desaparecer!” dixo sombrío.

“Atenázame un presentimento,

do meu tío as palabras derradeiras

volven ó pensamento,

e do meu corazón as tremedeiras

estalan como chulas na tixola

e choutan como papas nunha ola.”

“Atórdame a lembranza…”-“¡Bah, xa chega!”

o sineiro interrompe ó Panadeiro,

e o coitadiño agrega:

“Déixame repetir, será terceiro,

este recordo acerbo

do meu tío co seu florido verbo.”

“Cando da noite a densa escuridade

espesa tebra tece,

a penas o luar racha en metade

as sombras que aborrece,

o Carbairán e eu agoniamos

en soños nunha loita que acaece

ata que o sirvo, ornado de cachelos

ou prendo nas lareiras cacharelos.”

“Pero un día, tal vez, o cego azar,

fortuna desgraciada ou malos pasos

condúzanme ata dar

nun Cocón, e os ocasos

contemplarán como me esfumo en nada

¡e teimo nesta idea malfadada!”