le John Hewitt
(Gabriel Rosenstock a chuir i nGaeilge)
Ní deirimse ach an méid seo: cuimhnigh
Ar na fearaibh is ar na macaoimh marbh ar
na sráideanna;
Gan idirdhealú a dhéanamh idir neacha
Ar scaoileadh leo d’aon ghnó
Is iad siúd nárbh iad na targaidí iad:
Ní bhaineann difríochtaí mar sin le hábhar . . .
Cuimhnigh ar an bpáiste scipeála –
Athscinneadh gan ainm tríd . . .
Is na comharsana cabacha sa bheár
Nuair a phléasc an buama ina ngaobhar;
Bodhrán balbh na ngothaí ina thost
Ag raidhfil an tsaighdiúra i gcearnóg an bhaile
Agus an póilín ar sracadh a chorp óna chéile
Ag an mbobghaiste sa charr . . .
Croí a thabhairt don tír
Is ea tírghrá, an pobal faoi ord
Ag an gceart is ag an trócaire –
Meallfaidh siad dílseacht is misneach go minic,
Agus íobairt, an mhairtíreacht féin ar uairibh.
Cuimhnigh ar na dánta sin leis;
Bainfidh siad leat go deo:
Ach anois díreach, cuimhnigh ar na mairbh seo.
Neither and Elegy nor a Manifesto
So I say only: Bear in mind
Those men and lads killed in the streets;
But do not differentiate between
Those deliberately gunned down
And those caught by unaddressed bullets:
Such distinctions are not relevant . . .
Bear in mind the skipping child hit
By the anonymous ricochet . . .
And the garrulous neighbours at the bar
When the bomb exploded near them;
The gesticulating deaf-mute stilled
by the soldier’s rifle in the town square
And the policeman dismembered by the booby trap
in the car . . .
Patriotism has to do with keeping
the country in good heart, the community
ordered by justice and mercy;
these will enlist loyalty and courage often,
and sacrifice, sometimes even martyrdom.
Bear these eventualities in mind also;
they will concern you forever:
but, at this moment, bear in mind these dead.
Naither An Elegy Nor A Manifesto
A say anely: Tak tent o
Thae chiels'n laddies dung doon i the causey;
Bit dinnae ettle tae differ atween
The yins deleeberately gunned doon
An the yins claucht bi wandert bullets:
Sic diveesions mean nocht...
Mynd the skippin bairn slauchtert
Bi the unawnt skite...
An the claiverin neebours it the baur
Whan the bomb gaed aff nearhaun;
The deef'n tung-tackit chiel's gyte waffin stelled
bi a sodger's rifle i the toon square
An the polisman sindert apairt bi a bomb
in's motor...
Paitriotism's aw aboot hainin the kintra
In guid hert, an fir the fowk:
justice'n guid gree;
Whilk'll win lealtie'n smeddum frae thaim,
syne saicrifeece'n e'en mairtyrdom.
Hain in mynd aw thae ootcums;
they'll be wi ye aye:
bit fir nou, mynd on thae deid.
