Maram al-Masri (POETS OF THE PLANET)

Níl a fhios ag mná
dem’ shórtsa conas labhairt.
Fanann focal ina scornach
mar dhealg
a shlogfaidh siad.
 
Mná dem’ shórtsa
ní heol dóibh faic ach caoineadh,
caoineadh doshamhlaithe
doirteadh
gan choinne
ar nós artaire a gearradh.
 
Mná dem’ shórtsa
buailtear iad
gan buille a bhualadh ar ais.
Bíd ar crith le cuthach,
cuirid srian leis.
 
Mná dem’ shórtsa
is geall le leoin i gcás iad
ag taibhreamh . . .
ar shaoirse

 

Maram al-Masri

 

M. K. Ajay (Poets of the Planet)

LÁRNAITHE

I lár m'aignese,
lochán.
Púróga boga thart air,
féar glas,
éigrit.

Istigh sa lochán,
cuilithíní, agus éisc órga
a ndearna duine éigin dearúd
iad a chur isteach san uisceadán.

Agus laistigh de na héisc órga tá fiaile,
tithe glasa na mbuaf is na dtorbán.

Laistigh den fhiaile, leis,
fionnuaire agus láib,
scáileanna ó dhomhan iomlán na hóige.
Laistigh den fhiaile tá brionglóidí
á slogadh ag éisc órga
tumann cruidíní chun breith orthu.

Preabann éigrit.

An aigne ag cleitearnach.

Ní fheicim an lochán a thuilleadh.

Ní bhraithim ach an fhionnuaire ar mo chraiceann,
déantar aislingí dá chuimilt
ar snámh isteach i bhforaois dhubh
laistigh dem' shuan,
sa tóir ar sheanmháthair.

M.K. Ajay

Marx ...

 

Dán ón India

I came across poems by Jacinta Kerketta in the current issue of Modern Poetry in Translation (No. 2, 2024). As a language-activist poet-translator, you can see why I was immediately drawn to her work. I wanted to know more. I have made a transcreation in Irish (and recording) of the second poem below, one of the most moving eco-poems I have encountered in many a day.

 

 

 

 

 

Cén fáth nach bPioctar an Mathua den Chrann?

A Mháithrín, cén fáth a fhanann tú ar feadh na hoíche
go dtite an mathua?
Cén fáth nach bpiocann tú
na torthaí go léir den chrann?

Arsa mo Mháithrín -
Mairid sa bhroinn an oíche go léir.
Nuair a thagann a n-uain
Titid go talamh as a stuaim féin.
 Ag breacadh an lae, agus iad ar maos i ndrúcht
Bailímid iad le tabhairt abhaile linn.

Agus an crann i dtinneas clainne
An oíche go léir
Abair liom, conas a chroithfinn
an ghéag go teann?
Abair, conas a phiocfainn an mathua
go fórsúil den chrann?
 
Fanaimid, sin uile,
Mar go bhfuil grá againn dóibh.
 

Why the Mahua is not Plucked from the Tree?

Mother, why do you wait all night
for the mahua to drop?
Why don’t you not
just pluck all the mahua from the tree?
 
Mother says –
They live in the womb all night long.
When the time for their birth comes
They fall by themselves to the earth.
At dawn, when they’re soaked in the dew
We pick them up and bring them home.
 
When the tree is going through
Labor pains all night long
Tell me, how I can
shake the branch hard?
Say, how I can  forcibly
pluck the mahua from a tree?
 
We just wait
Because we love them.

   क्यों महुए तोड़े नहीं जाते पेड़ से?/ Kyon Mahue Tode Nahi Jate Ped Se?/ Why the Mahua is not Plucked from the Tree?

Alex Salmond

 

Photo: Ron Rosenstock

Alex Salmond
O is he dead then?
say the waters of Loch Leven


Alex Salmond
Ó, an marbh atá sé?
a deir uiscí Loch Lìobhan


Alex Salmond
fegs! is he deid then?
threep the watters o Loch Leven

Scots: John McDonald

The English version of this haiku (or senryu) echoes a  sonnet by G. M. Hopkins, Felix Randal, (1880) which also contains the poet-priest's blessing:

Ah well, God rest him all road ever he offended!

Dán Cogaigh / War Poem

 

War Poem #14

i’ve sat among arab villagers
            along the sea
                        drinking tea
                                    eating dried fruits

praying with story and laughter
for each other’s survival

Mimi German

  قصيدة الحرب #14                                                                                                    

  
لقد جلست بين القرويين العرب
            على طول البحر
                        شربت الشاي
                                    تناول الفواكه المجففة
الصلاة بالقصة والضحك
من أجل بقاء بعضهم لبعض

שיר מלחמה #14

 
הסתופפתי עם פלאחים
   לחופי הים
     לוגמת תה
      מנשנשת פירות יבשים
 
מתפללת עם סיפור וצחוק
מייחלת עבור שנינו – השרדות

Dán Cogaidh # 14

do shuíos-sa i bhfochair na n-arabach
          cois cósta
              ag ól tae
                 torthaí triomaithe á n-ithe againn

is sinn ag guí le seanchas is le gáire
go dtiocfaimis go léir slán

Ko Un

 

Note: Gabriel  brought out the selected poems of Ko Un, transcreations in Irish, a number of years ago.

Two beggars

By Ko Un
(1933 - )

Two beggars
sharing a meal of the food they've been given

The new moon shines intensely

BEIRT BHACACH

Beirt bhacach
roinnid an béile a tugadh dóibh

Gealach úr ag lonrú go tréan