In mid-January, the voice that once lost the eastern valleys of the Basque Pyrenees fell down the mountain again.
Until memory arrives, the language used by these parties was recently lost. In the past, strangers forced him to get lost in the mountains and in a very short time only a few remains remained on the lips of the population. Since then it has been fugitive hidden in the caves, in the breath of the air and covered in snow.
The winter has been long, but the snow has kept the wheat drops offered by the pigeons to Gartxot well. Now we can say that we can see the first spring solar rays. The snow carrying these seeds will melt and flood our valleys, plains, towns and cities like a flood.
The winter has been long, but the snow has kept the wheat drops offered by the pigeons to Gartxot well
Now it only remains that when all the snow melts, the drops of wheat left on the slopes of Elkorreta are brought to us by pigeons and placed on the lips of every person who lives in our village.
Maybe Gartxot had to starve to get those seeds to us. Perhaps he had to die knowing what was going to happen in his day with hunger, so that future generations would have a chance. Or maybe not: it's in our hands to take that drop of wheat that the pigeon brings to us at the peak or not.
Long live Gartxot! Long live the present Izalzu bards!
Aritz Díez