I Remember Galileo
I remember Galileo describing the mind
as a piece of paper blown around by the wind,
and I loved the sight of it sticking to a tree,
or jumping into the backseat of a car,
and for years I watched paper leap through my cities;
but yesterday I saw the mind was a squirrel caught crossing
Route 80 between the wheels of a giant truck,
dancing back and forth like a thin leaf,
or a frightened string, for only two seconds living
on the white concrete before he got away,
his life shortened by all that terror, his head
jerking, his yellow teeth ground down to dust.
It was the speed of the squirrel and his lowness to the ground,
his great purpose and the alertness of his dancing,
that showed me the difference between him and paper.
Paper will do in theory, when there is time
to sit back in a metal chair and study shadows;
but for this life I need a squirrel,
his clawed feet spread, his whole soul quivering,
the loud noise shaking him from head to tail.
O philosophical mind, O mind of paper, I need a squirrel
finishing his wild dash across the highway,
rushing up his green ungoverned hillside.
~ Gerald Stern ~
(This Time: New and Selected Poems)
Is Cuimhin Liom Galileo
Is cuimhin liom Galileo ag cur síos ar an aigne
mar bhlúire páipéir á shéideadh thart ag an ngaoth,
agus b’aoibhinn mar radharc é greamaithe de chrann,
nó ag léim isteach i gcúlsuíochán gluaisteáin,
agus ar feadh na mblianta d’fhairinn blúirí páipéir ag léim trí chathracha;
ach inné chonac an aigne ina hiora rua gafa
ar Bhealach 80 idir rothaí olltrucaile,
ag damhsa anonn is anall mar dhuilleog thanaí,
nó sreang eaglach, beo ar feadh dhá shoicind
ar an gcoincréit bhán sular thug sé na cosa leis,
ciorrú ar a shaol de dheasca na sceimhle sin go léir, a cheann
ag preabadh, a chuid fiacla buí meilte go mín.
Ba é luas an iora agus é chomh gar sin don talamh,
a dhiongbháilteacht agus tapaíocht an damhsa aige
a léirigh domsa an difríocht idir é agus páipéar.
Déanfaidh páipéar cúis go teoiriciúil, ach am a bheith agat luí siar
i gcathaoir mhiotail agus scáileanna a scrúdú,
ach tá gá agamsa le hiora sa saol ina mairimse,
a chrobh leata, a anam go léir ar crith,
an creathadh a bhain an turlabhait as ó bhonn go baithis.
A aigne na fealsúnachta, a phár-aigne, tá gá agamsa le hiora
agus deireadh lena sciuird reatha trasna an mhórbhealaigh,
aghaidh á tabhairt aige ar learg ghlas an chnoic neamhcheansaithe.
