(G. Aresti / N. de Felipe)
(Oskorri, "Gabriel Aristi-ren oroimenez", 1976)

Heure ahizpei esaien, hik, xikia, zergatik etxean ez dagoen ogirik, esaien ogia erosten dela, baina ez apirilik, edo hire aitaren honra. Zetazko boza, erretenaren ondoko murmurio kantariak azal zaien nola bizi diren, esistitzen duten, milaka esperantzarik gabeko gizon doilor, diruak amiltzen narauenak. Baina egunak etorri behar din, agian bihar, eta orduan libertateak, neska panposa, zoparekin kantatuko dizue euskaraz, eta Gernikako arbola, oilaritezturik, gaur inork ezagutzen ez duen hilotz hori, gaineko adarreragino beteko dun frutuz.

Tell your sisters, little one, why there is no bread at home, tell them, that bread is bought with money, but not aprils nor your father's honor. Silky voice, singing whispers from next to the gutter, explain to them that there are are, that there live, thousands of vile men without hope, towards which money makes drags me. But the day must come, perhaps tomorrow, and then freedom, gracious lady, will sing to you in Basque with your meal. and the tree of Gernika will dawn that corpse that nobody remembers today, will fill up with fruit to the highest branch.

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