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sos caife san oifig - smaoiníonn rúnaí ar mhothú ar bholadh an fhéir |
office coffee-break - a secretary recalls the feel the smell of grass |
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事務休憩 ふと思い出す 草いきれ |
offish speel - a secretar mynds the snowk o girss...the feel o't |
2020-12-30
Henri Moret
2020-12-29
Errico Malatesta
Errico Malatesta (1853 -1932)
2020-12-28
Aireachas
Tagann an t-earrach leis na bláthanna, an fómhar leis an ngealach,
An samhradh leis na leoithní, an geimhreadh le sneachta;
Nuair nach ngreamaíonn nithe gan tairbhe san aigne,
Sin é an séasúr is fearr.
Wu-men Huai-kai (無門慧開 Mumon Ekai)
2020-12-27
Smaoineamh an Lae
Ar an bhféarthalamh a rugadh mé, áit ar shéid an ghaoth gan bhac is gan aon ní ann a bhrisfeadh solas na gréine. Rugadh mé in áit nach raibh banrach ná fál agus saoranáil ag an uile ní. Is ann is mian liom bás a fháil agus ní laistigh de bhallaí.
Parra-Wa-Samen (Deich mBéar)
2020-12-26
ÉIN NACH bhFEICTEAR : 100 tanka
Foilsíodh cuid de na Tanka seo ar Poetry Ireland Review agus Comhar. Foilsíodh leaganacha dátheangacha nó leaganacha Béarla de chuid díobh ar Pinterest agus san iris Modern Literature (Chennai).
Bhronn an Chomhairle Ealaíon sparánacht ar an údar sa bhliain 2020 chun tionscadail tanka a fhorbairt. Céim amháin sa treo sin is ea an cnuasach féinfhoilsithe seo, an chéad chnuasach tanka sa Ghaeilge.
2020-12-25
2020-12-24
A small tree of tender leaves
I have followed the stellar haiku career of K. Ramesh for a long time and have translated some of his earlier work into Irish. He is a national treasure. A body such as Sahitya Akademi should give him an award, not just to recognize his own outstanding gifts as a haijin (haiku master) but to acknowledge the part that haiku now plays in the literary life of India and that of dozens of other nations across the globe.
This is an age in which ecopoetics has come into its own and haiku should be to the forefront in this universal movement. Why? Firstly, haiku is known for its keen response to environmental and seasonal phenomena. Secondly, the greatest haijin are those who eschew self-obsession and the cravings of the predatory ego.
winter morning . . .
the farmer’s sneeze
startles the newborn calf
This could have been written by the immortal master Issa whose haiku – over 20,000 in all – are infused with memorable tenderness.
wedding hall . . .
a butterfly lingers
around artificial flowers
I have read similar haiku and yet the tiniest difference is enough to allow a haiku such as this a complete life of its own, a moment quietly and unobtrusively observed.
Ramesh works as a teacher in a Krishnamurti school in Chengalpattu. How lucky are the children under his care:
sugarcane harvest . . .
every boy in the village
gets a piece to chew
Haiku take up little space on the page so it’s a pity that a second Indian language wasn’t included. When all is said and done, haiku have extra resonance and nuance in the ancestral tongue. How could it be otherwise?
Haiku can bring us from the microcosm to the macrocosm in the blink of an eye which means that it is both a literary genre and a purifying, spiritual exercise for poet and reader alike:
power failure . . .
I step into the night
of the Milky Way
This is simply sublime! The Milky Way was also a favourite theme of the above-mentioned Issa, as in this haiku from the year 1802:
it flows
into my home village . . .
the Milky Way
There are many ways of looking at a haiku. No two readers are exactly alike. This next haiku might amuse some readers. Others will sense abject loneliness:
barber shop . . .
only one fish left
in the aquarium
Haiku has the ability to zoom in on a moment, a reality, a happening – making that moment real for us, as real as anything else that might be happening in the universe. Haiku is an awakening. And who is to say what happenings are more significant than others?
winter night . . .
mother and I search
for a pill on the floor
There are haiku in this collection which equal the works of such grandmasters as Buson and Bashō (who both wrote memorably about herons):
a heron’s pulsing throat . . .
the river thin
on the river bed
There is so much sensibility and intelligence at work in this absorbing collection that it’s hard to pick a favourite among so many jewels:
long afternoon . . .
the church spire shade
reaches the beggar
Any anthology of Indian writing which focusses on communalism should include this outstanding haiku:
village asleep . . .
a crescent moon
over Shiva’s temple
Published by Cinnamon Teal, Goa, 2020Reviewed by Gabriel Rosenstock
2020-12-23
Ahmed Morsi - The White Mask
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uaireanta, a chuid nuair a thugaim isteach im' chroí thú téim amú ann athraíonn tú mé múnlaíonn tú mé cuireann athord ar imlínte mo shaoil | ||
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sometimes, beloved when I bring You into my heart i don't know where I am You change me! You shape me rearrange the contours of my being |
2020-12-22
Ainrialachas
Ní anseo dom
i gcábáin na mbocht:
an náire agus an galar
is an bás lomnocht
Ní nuair a bhíonn an croí
is an intinn faoi shuan
is dearmad déanta agam
ar an ainnise bhuan
Ach nuair a chloisimse 'saoirse'
sea, is 'ord' agus 'dlí'
ó na maithe is na móruaisle
agus léan orthu - na bourgeoisie!
Is ansin a líontar mé
le fuath, le crá is le brón:
leagaimis an teampall mór acu
tá suaimhneas uainn, fá dheoidh
Francis W. L. Adams
2020-12-20
Oiche Amháin Chuir Dia Rún im’ Chluas i gCogar
Oíche amháin chuir Dia rún im’ chluas i gcogar
Bhí fhios agam gur rún ab ea é mar bhí fonn orm é a scaipeadh;
Is mar sin a thuigimid a luachmhaire is atá an smaoineamh.
Is geal linn púróga gan mhaith is scaipimid seoda ar an mbóthar mór;
Sin gaois an domain anois duit!
Ar mhaith leat go mbeadh gach fear sa tóir ort?
Caith caille!
Má tá rud éigin agat le tabhairt uait – caith amach an fhuinneog é;
An té atá ina ghátar tiocfaidh sé agus a shúile dírithe ar an bhfód.
Má tá earra sárluachmhar uait – ná hinis d’éinne é.
Seans go dtiocfaidh tú air agus súile na Cinniúna ag breathnú sa treo eile.
ONE night God whispered a secret in my ear.
I knew it was a secret because I longed to tell it;
Thus may we always know how valuable is a thought.
We treasure the worthless pebbles and scatter the jewels on the highway;
Such is the wisdom of the world!
Would you know a way to make all men seek you? Wear a veil!
If you have something to give -- throw it out of the window;
The one who needs it will come along with eyes bent on the ground.
If you desire something of real value - tell no one.
You will find it maybe when the eyes of Destiny are turned the other way.
"One Night God Whispered a Secret In My Ear" as an leabhar Songs of a Vagrom Angel. Elsa Barker. Nua-Eabhrac: Mitchell Kennerley, 1916.
Yin nicht The Almichty fuspert a saicret i ma lug.
A kent it wis a saicret fir a hud a greenin tae threep it oot;
An sae lang mey we ken the vailyie o a thocht.
We treisur the wanwirthy chuckies an skail wallie gowdies on the causey;
Sic is the wiceheid o the warl!
Wid ye ken onie wey tae mak aw men green fir ye? Weir a veil!
Gin ye hae oniethin tae gie - fling it oot the winnock;
The yin whae hus need o't'll cum danderin by een tae the grun.
Gin ye green fir sumhin o real vailyie - tell naebodie.
Ye'll fund it aiblins whan the een o Destiny's turnt the ither wey.
Leagan Béarla na hAlban le John McDonald
2020-12-19
Inkanyamba
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búir tornádó... céile á lorg ag an incanyamba |
roar of a tornado... the inkanyamba is looking for a mate | ||
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rair o a spirewind... the inkanyamba is leukin fir a marrae |
竜巻の轟音 インカニヤンバ 友をみる | ||
2020-12-18
Simone Martini
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| Annunciation with St. Margaret and St. Ansanus (detail) Simone Martini |
an colaimbína mháithrín . . .brisfear do chroí
2020-12-17
Ahmed Morsi: "Flute Player (2)"
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i heard an air that has no name far and near it has traveled i weave it into my songs for You, and all my longing | ||
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chuala aer nach raibh aon ainm air thaistil sé i ngar is i gcéin tá sé fite duitse trím' laoithe agam, trím' dhúil |
2020-12-16
2020-12-15
Haiku le Issa
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| Monet |
é ag stánadh ormgan staonadh…buaf i measc na nduilleog báite
我見ても久しき蟾や百合の花
ware mite mo hisashiki hiki ya yuri [no] hana
2020-12-14
Dromore Lough (Revisited) / Loch Dhrom Mór
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anáil dhomhain… | ||
intake of breath…light fallingon reeds |
2020-12-13
Angel Gabriel, Mosaic in the Hagia Sophia
ní thuirsíonn a chuid sciathán riamhArdaingeal Gaibriéil…Teachtaire
2020-12-12
2020-12-11
Ahmed Morsi - Poetry (1)
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tá mo chuid laoithe ag ithe a chéile nuair nach n-itheann tusa iad alpann dán an dán eile feoil mo chroí mar fhéasta acu | ||
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my songs, beloved are eating one another since You do not eat them song eats song feasting on the flesh of my heart |
2020-12-10
An Briseadh Síos Mór
as an duanaire Singing in the Dark:
Tar éis roinnt seachtainí, nuair a stop an uile ní
ar fud an Domhain ar fad,
ba léir i dtobainne:
go bhféadfadh an spéir a bheith gorm,
gur tábhachtaí beatha an duine ná an t-airgead,
agus i measc na dtráchtearraí go léir a tháirgtear
tá cuid acu gan tairbhe
agus i gcás na n-earraí riachtanacha
is leor dhá uair a chloig oibre, nó trí, sa lá
agus ba chóir dúinn riachtanais na beatha
a thabhairt do gach éinne
agus aire a thabhairt do na nithe atá tábhachtach:
grá, leanaí, an bheatha, an fhilíocht . . .
Nuair a stop an uile ní
ar feadh roinnt seachtainí
ba léir, timpeall an Domhain
nach raibh ach farraige amháin ann,
atmaisféar amháin
aon chine daonna amháin.
Francis Combes
2020-12-09
Haiku le Issa
cailltear an lochde réir a chéile sa cheo…titeann an tráthnóna
湖のとろりとかすむ夜也けり
mizuumi no torori to kasumu yo nari keri
2020-12-08
2020-12-07
Slán, a Shimné
Dúirt Daid uair amháin
má bhí simnéithe arda ann
agus gal ag teacht as na simnéithe sin
gurb ann a bhí tionscal ceart.
Sá lá atá inniu
tá a gcuid modhanna athraithe ag go leor monarchana;
gás nádúrtha ag cuid acu, coire leictreach ag an gcuid eile;
is féidir sceitheadh ón ngás nádúrtha a athchúrsáil mar acmhainn in-athnuaite,
agus níl múch ar bith ón gcoire leictreach.
Níl deatach ag teacht ón simné níos mó.
Tá súil agam nach bhfuil fonn a leagtha ar éinne.
Seasadh sé go hard, mar chomhartha, mar chuimhne,
ach teastaíonn ó na hardoifigigh é a leagan.
Lá amháin, bhaineamar leas as inphléascadh treoch;
chuala mé toirneach, is thit an simné ina phleist.
Bhraitheas go hainnis mar gheall air go ceann i bhfad
agus chuimhníos láithreach ar m'athair a dtaitníodh píopa tobac go mór leis.
Choinníos na deora siar agus arsa mise liom féin im' chroí istigh:
Slán, a shimné,
Slán, a sheanleaid.
Long Xiaolong[Duck Yard Lyricists a chuir Béarla air: Meifu Wang, Michael Soper, Peter Micic & Johan Ramaekers]
2020-12-06
2020-12-05
Feartlaoi
Tá an trúbadóir dothraochta ina luí anseo.
Bhíodh a a chroí á iompar thart aige de shíor,
Ag canadh gach áit dá mbíodh sé.
Faoi shuan atá sé faoi láthair
agus deich gcnuasach filíochta faoina philiúr aige.
Sna scríbhinní aige, chuir sé an-dua air féin
chun clocha a mholadh - na clocha stobarnáilte úd leis na ciuimheasanna garbha,
iad i ngleic le gaotha is gálaí.
Sna véarsaí aige, thaitníodh sé leis cur síos ar fhiailí,
fiailí a satlaíodh ainmhithe orthu,
agus na cinn a bheadh creimthe ag éan is brúid.
Bíonn a gceann sa spéir ag plandaí faoin mbáisteach.
Anuas air sin, dhein sé cur síos níos mó ná uair amháin
ar ghnáthbhláthanna fiáine
agus bláthanna fiáine gleoite de gach sórt.
Phioc sé an ceann ba dheise díobh, de láimh,
is thug abhaile leis í
mar bhrídeach.
Sa chuid eile dá scríbhinní, tháinig mallachtaí uaidh in ainm a choinsiasa.
Mhallaigh sé na hoícheanta dorcha,
daoine is nithe a bhí chomh dorcha leis na hoícheanta sin.
Mhaslaigh sé go leor daoine agus bhí droch-cháil air dá dheasca sin.
Xin You 辛酉(1981—2011)as 21st Century Chinese Poetry, No. 1
2020-12-04
Winter
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dorchaíonn an spéir... a ghaotha an ghemhridh fanaigí amach uainn! |
the sky darkens... wintry winds stay away! | ||
2020-12-03
Luimneach
Arsa bean a bhí saghas ina hóinmhid
Tá rud éigin orm - an Chóivid?
Dhéanfadh filíocht mo leas
Sea, bheadh dán beag go deas
Cad faoi Metamorphoses le hÓivid
2020-12-02
Ahmed Morsi: "Eyeing Time"
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sciob tú gach soicind gach nóiméad is uair an chloig den lá is den oíche uaim ní thig leat iad a thabhairt ar ais ní liom níos mó iad | ||
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You snatched every second every minute every hour of day and night from me You cannot give them back they are no longer mine |
2020-12-01
Cén fhaid a bheir sa tóraíocht?
(as Comhdháil na nÉan)
Cén fhaid a bheir sa tóraíocht ar an áilleacht abhus?
Cuardaigh an ní dofheicthe is nochtfaidh an áilleacht.
Nuair a ardófar an chaille dheiridh ní fheicfear go brách arís
An duine ná a ghlóir,
Meathfaidh an chruinne, beidh an mórdhráma thart,
Is titfidh an brat.
Iad siúd a ghráigh cruth is cló
Beidh cloch sa mhuinchille acu dá chéile, beidh an gean ar lár.
Iad siúd a ghráigh an Cara nach bhfeictear (atá as baile),
Cónóidh siad Leis go brách na breithe.
Farid ud-Din Attar
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