Joyce

 

cuid súl cách ab ea í
mise á rá leat ...
Malaí faoi bhláth

she was some sight

I'm telling you...

Molly in full bloom

Magritte

scamall ag dul thar bráid is ea an saol fós féin . . .	our lives are but a passing cloud and yet . . .
我等が命 流れる雲か しかしまだ・・・ Leagan Seapáinise: Mariko Sumikura	oor lives'r nocht bit a bygaun clud an yit... Leagan Béarla na hAlban: John McDonald

Fr Francis Browne

'ní ar muin asail a raghair go Meiriceá!' lá margaidh	'you won't get to Amerikay on a dunkey!' market day
「驢馬に乗り 米国へ行かぬのか！」 市立つ日 Leagan Seapáinise: Mariko Sumikura	'ye wullnae git tae Amerikay on a cuddie!' mercat day Leagan Béarla na hAlban: John McDonald

Seiju Omoda (cat)

cosantóir na hoíche - an cat de shíor ag teacht is ag imeacht

guardian of the night - the endless comings and goings of the cat

不寝番― 行ったり来たり 猫ひきりなし Leagan Seapáinise: Mariko Sumikura

on gaird - aw nicht back an fore bawdrons Leagan Béarla na hAlban: John McDonald

Paritosh Sen

Cathair na Soilse iata ag an mbáisteach throm fearthainn ó mhaidin         ar na céimeanna ceocha         is ar cholainn leathdhóite

the City of Lights occluded by heavy rain pouring all day long         falling on the smoking ghats         and on a body half-burned

Hakuin Ekaku

moncaí mar mise ba cheart go mbeadh fhios agam sin iad na rudaí         tagtar orm aniar aduaidh         sínim lámh i dtreo na ré

a monkey like me should know better, beloved but what can i say         there are unguarded moments         when i still reach for the moon

Cúpla luimneach

 

A Wee Limerick

Hi, Donaldson! - DUP
I pee in the Lagan, you see
        The Liffey's a bit sniffy
        The Corrib's a bit iffy
And I'm damned if I'll pee in the Lee

Oui!

Mise Donaldson, DUP,
Cad é mar atá tú, a chroí
       Bhíodh Paisley ag rá 'No!'
        Is an ceart aige, ar ndóigh
Ó, ní maith liom an focal sin, 'Oui'

Julio Romero de Torres

La Venus de la Poesía

canann an domhan duit lasmuigh de na dánta seo amhrán glas ón gcrann         ón scairdeán amhrán spleodrach         an chéad ghiolcadh ón ngearrcach

all things chant for You not just these poems, beloved trees chant leafy songs         fountains chant bubbly songs         You are the nestling's first song

Robert Silvers

ná goil, a bhean ó tá leath an domhain ag caoineadh an leath eile shtumm         canaimis laoi na saoirse         níl laoi d'aon sórt eile ann

no woman no cry hey, half the world is crying the others struck dumb         let's sing a song of freedom         there's no other type of song

Anita Malfatti

O Farol

amhrán cam é seo i dtigh cam a cumadh é gar do chonair cham         bíodh an rud díreach ag cách         táimse cam, a stóirín ó

here's a crooked song written in a crooked house near a crooked path         let the world have its straight songs         beloved, i am deviant

Fógra

The Eblana Forum Presents

A Pakistani - Indian Irish Evening of Poetry, Music and Song

at the Eblana Club, 3 Eblana Avenue, Dún Laoghaire on Saturday June 4th 2022 @ 7pm

Pakistani Poet WAQAS KHWAJA will be on a short visit to Ireland and will recite a small selection of his poems from his large collection of published works.

Born in Lahore, Pakistan,Waqas Khwaja is currently Professor of English at Agnes Scott College in Georgia, USA, where he teaches courses in Postcolonial literature, 18th & 19th century British literature and Creative Writing.

For more information see his website:

http://wkhwaja.agnesscott.org/

A number of Irish, Indian and Pakistani singers, poets and musicians including well known Irish poet GABRIEL ROSENSTOCK - will also contribute to what promises to be a uniquely interesting and enjoyable evening.

Sudipto Das

Gabriel Rosentock

Yameema Mitha

Des Geraghty

Cead Isteach / Entry €5.

It is advisable to secure your ticket(s) soon.

Tickets can be booked by Email at eblanaclub@gmail.com or collected

from: Costello Jewellers, 1 Northumberland Ave., Dún Laoghaire.

Dún Laoghaire DART Station within 2 minutes and bus services; 7, 7a, 46a, 46n, 59, 63, 75 and 111.

Carel Fabritius

De schildwacht

thiteas im' chodladh fairtheoir den chéad scoth mé dúirt mé leis an ngadhar         dúisigh mé má thagann sí         an Té a shoilsíonn mo shuan

i've fallen asleep i'm not much of a sentry the dog has orders:         wake me up if you see Her         Her light illumines my dreams

Jean Baptiste Vanmour

Derwisj

file, deirbhíseach Yunus Emre lá amháin cad a tharla dhó         leáigh sé ann féin, a thaisce         mar ór a ndéanfaí leacht de

poet and dervish Yunus Emre saw himself as clear as daylight         he melted into himself         like flowing gold, beloved

Ómós do Mháire Mhac an tSaoi

San eagrán reatha den iris Poetry Ireland Review (Uimh.136) tá ómós don fhile Máire Mhac an tSaoi, beanacht Dé léi. Is iad na filí Gaeilge a bhfuil dánta acu ann in ómós di ná Louis de Paor, Ailbhe Ní Ghearbhuigh, Biddy Jenkinson, Stiofán Ó hIfearnáin, Cathal Ó Searcaigh, Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill, Caitríona Ní Chleirchín, Pádraig de Bhál agus mé féin. Is í Aifric Mac Aodha eagarthóir Gaeilge na hirise.

Tá aiste ann i mBéarla ag Bríona Nic Dhiarmada a bhainfidh preab as daoine áirithe. Go hachomair, cuirtear i leith Mháire go raibh sí ina fuathaitheoir ban. 

Ceist: Cén fáth a mbeadh Máire frithbhanda? 

 

Fuath ban de shaghas ar leith a bhí ag Máire don bhantracht, dar le Bríona, 

  'a form of misogyny felt by many highly able and intelligent women of her generation who suffered prejudice and discrimination because they were women . . . who lacked the political insights of contemporary feminism with its critique of patriarchy  . . .'

An fíor sin, áfach? Seans maith gur thuig Máire Mhac an tSaoi go maith cad is feimineachas ann (cén fáth nach dtuigfeadh?) ach nach raibh aon fhonn uirthi ionsaí a dhéanamh ar fhearaibh. Go deimhin, ar lch 788 den duanaire Cnámh agus Smior/ Bone and Marrow (Wake Forest University Press, 2022) deirtear go raibh 'fuath a chomhfhilí ar mhná á chur ó dhoras aici, sa dán Cad is Bean? Tá níos mó ná léamh amháin ar an dán sin, is cosúil.

Tá an duanaire sin Cnámh agus Smior cáinte agam ar chúiseanna eile:

Seans maith gur thuig Máire go maith cad is feimineachas agus patrarcacht ann ach nár theastaigh uaithi go dtarraingeofaí síos an bóthar áirithe sin í - ná bóthar idé-eolaíochta ar bith - mar nach ceart go mbeadh file ar bith róghafa le haon ní seachas ilmhistéirí na filíochta féin. Bhí comhrá fada agam léi mar gheall air sin uair amháin.

An bhfuil sé éigeantach anois go mbeimis ar fad inár bhfeiminigh? An gcaithfidh gach file, gach criticeoir a bheith ina fheimineach? Gach jacaí? Gach Pápa?

Bhí grá ag Máire Mhac an tSaoi d'fhearaibh. Cén fáth a liostálfadh sí i gcrosáid ina n-aghaidh mar a dhéanfadh óinseach! Is cuimhin liom nuair a casadh Máire orm i nDún Chaoin, lá, agus Conor Cruise ina teannta. Chur sí in aithne dhom é láithreach. Ba léir go raibh sí bródúil as agus fiorcheanúil air. Chuimhníos air sin nuair a scríobhas dán ómóis di d'Iris Éigse Éireann:

Conchúr agus Máire

Is cuimhin liom, a Mháire,

Nuair a chuiris Conchúr in aithne dhom

(I nDún Chaoin a bhíomar):

Conas tánn tú, ar seisean.

 

Mheasas go raibh sé á chleachtadh le fada!

Rófhada.

Conas tánn tú - bhí sé aige, nach mór -

Agus bheadh, dá dtógfadh sé go réidh é

Ach bhí sé leath-thachta ag an diabhal conas tánn tú sin.

 

D'fhan na focail ar foluain eadrainn

Mar bhultúir

A bhí ar tí duine againn a shlogadh.

Conas tánn tú.

Ar aon nós  . . .

 

Ní rabhas in ann é a fhreagairt.

Is ceist í nach bhfuilim in ann a fhreagairt.

Conas tánn tú? N'fheadar.

Cuibheasach gan a bheith maíteach?

Ag stracadh liom?

Dhera, tá's agat féin . . .

 

Thosnaíos ag portaireacht faoi rún:

"Táimse 'gus Máire go sásta inár n-aigne,

Ó nascadh i bpáirt sinn ag an altóir ró-bheannaithe,

Thug sise grá thar cairde 'gus fearaibh dhom,

Thógas ar láimh í 's go brách brách ní scarfaimid.

 

Beadsa ag seinnt ceoil, poirtíní béil agam,

Rex-fol-dí-ó . . ."

 

Conas tánn tú.

Táim i bhfad Éireann níos fearr 

Ag freagairt ceisteanna ginearálta

Nó ceisteanna faoin litríocht cuir i gcás.

(Bhíothas á thuar uair amháin go raghainn le Béarla).

Mar shampla:

Cé dó an tagairt seo san Athenae:

 

     "This poet and preacher 

     being towards his latter end crazed, 

     and thereupon brought into debt, 

     was at length committed to the prison 

     in Allhallows parish . . ."

 

Aon tuairim agat, a Chonchúir?

A Mháire?

Freagra: An tOirmhinneach Thomas Bastard.

 

Bhuel, ar aon nós  . . .

Conas tánn tú, a Chonchúir?

Conas tá tusa, a Mháire?

Martin Schongauer

Wilder Mann mit Schild

is neach fiáin mé thugas mo chúl leis an domhan lem' mhaide is sciath         ar fán anois leis an ngaoth         scairtim d'ainm leis an spéir

i am a wild man i've forsaken society with club and with shield         i wander where the wind blows         shout Your name to the heavens

Michelangelo

Tormento di sant'Antonio

diabhail deamhain agus jinn deacair a gcumhacht a shéanadh gan éifeacht bíd         nuair a luaimse d'ainm         teitheann siad go maolchluasach

devils demons jinn it's hard to deny their power but what can they do         beloved, i say Your name         and they take off sheepishly

Walter Osborne

A vendor of books, 1889

Bleá Cliath, a thaisce roimh aimsir na réabhlóide is cuma shéimh air         ach tá rud éigin san aer         is fós in éamh na bhfaoileán

Dublin, beloved before the revolution and all seems peaceful         but there's something in the air         still heard in the seagull's cry

Ludwig Knaus

an bandia thú bandia na síochána ní chreideann éinne         i mbandéithe ná sa tsíth         táimid damnaithe, a chuid

are You a goddess the goddess of peace, perhaps who believes in You         no one believes any more         we are all damned, beloved

John Singer Sargent

tá tú feicthe acu do leagan siúil, a thaisce tá tú cloiste acu         ní bhfuaireadar ach spléachadh ort         nochtann tú is téann as amharc

some swear they've seen You others swear they have heard You some describe Your walk         at most they have had a glimpse         You appear and disappear

Ferdinand Hodler

im' dheisitheoir lín gafa le hamhráin bhriste cá dtosóm, a chuid         deisitheoir amhrán, gan tiúin         an gcanfá os íseal é

i'm a netmender enmeshed in these broken songs where does one begin         songmender - i've lost the tune         beloved, hum it softly

Liodán Lesbos / Lesbos Litany

 

Teifeach (1935) le William H. Johnson

Dán Dátheangach
I ndilchuimhne ar Éabha a raibh grá aici don tSiria

Do they not have names, then?

An é nach bhfuil ainmneacha orthu?

Syrian refugees on the island of Lesbos.

Teifigh ón tSiria ar oileán Lesbos.

Let us name them, the mothers and daughters:

Ainmnímis iad, máithreacha is iníonacha

Abelarda, is she not the servant of Allah?

               nach searbhónta Allah atá ionat?

Abia, great is she! 

is tú atá mór!

Abida, a worshipper

  adhraitheoir

Adelmira, is she not exalted

       nach céimiúil ataoi!

Aisha, is she not a woman!

  nach bean thú!

Akilah, is she not intelligent

   nach éirimiúil atá tú

Aliye, noble

 uasal

Alma, learned

 léannta

Almeda, ambitious

     uaillmhianach

Amal, hopeful

 dóchasach

Anisah, is she not friendly!

   nach tú atá cuideachtúil!

Ashia, is she not life itself!

  an bheatha féin atá ionat!

Asiya, tending to the weak

  ag friotháil ar an té atá lag

Asma, is she not excellent!

          togha na mban!

Atiya, is she not a gift!

  féirín is ea thú!

Badia, elegant

  cuanna

Barbada, such a blessing!

      a leithéid de bhua!

Bibi, a lady

       bean uasal

Bushra, a good omen

    dea-thuar

Cala, is she not a fortress!

daingean is ea thú!

Celmira, brilliant!

     soilseach!

Centola, the light of knowledge

     lóchrann eolais

Derifa, graceful is she

   grástúil atá tú

Fadila, generous

   flaithiúil

Faiza, victorious

  buach

Fatima, behold – the daughter of the Prophet

    féach – iníon an Fháidh

Gamila, beautiful beyond words!

    ní scéimhe go dtí thú!

Guadalupe, for she is a river of black stones

abhainn na gcloch dubh

Ghada, young and tender

    óg tláith

Habiba, she is beloved

    ionúin

Hafsa, a young lioness is she

  leoinín atá ionat

Halimah, patient

      foighneach

Hayfa, shapely

   dea-chruthach

Hiba, such a gift

tabhartas den scoth

Iman, a believer

  creidmheach

Jaafar, a winding brook is she

   sruthán lúbach

Jamila, beautiful, beautiful

     rí-álainn

Janan, the heart, the soul

   an croí is an t-anam

Janna, a rich harvest is she

     fómhar torthúil

Jarita, an earthen water jug

  crúsca uisce de chré

Jesenia, a flower

     flós

Kadijah, trustworthy

     fírinneach

Kaela, sweetheart, darling!

  a chuisle is a stór!

Khalida, immortal she is, everlasting!

     mairfidh tú go brách!

Lakia, found treasure

  ciste aimsithe

Lelia, born at night

 rugadh istoíche thú

Lina, tender . . .

lách . . .

Manar, a guiding light!

   solas dár  dtreorú

Maritza, forever blessed!

    beannaithe go deo!

May, discerning

tuisceanach

Maysa, proudly she strides out

   amach leat go huaibhreach

Maysun, beautiful, so beautiful

     gleoite amach is amach

Mumtatz, distinguished

      oirirc

Nadira, precious

    a thaisce!

Nafisah, a gem

     seoid

Najita, she of the brilliant eyes!

   is niamhrach iad do dhá shúil!

Nakia, pure

  íonghlan

Oraida, eloquent

    solabhartha

Nasrin! wild rose!

   rós fiáin! 

Qitarah, fragrant 

    cumhra

Querima, generous one

      nach tú atá fial

Randa, a tree 

   crann

Rasha, young gazelle

   gasail óg 

Rihana, sweet basil

    basal cumhra

Rima, white antelope 

  antalóp bán

Saba, is she not the morning?

 an mhaidin atá ionat!

Sadira, a star 

   réalta

Salama, peaceful is she

     séimh atá tú

Syreeta, companion to all

     compánach linn go léir

Ulima, wise

   eagnaí

Zeimira, brilliant one!

     thar barr atá tú!

Maximilien Luce

bhí brionglóid agam faoi sheanmhonarcha, a chuid bhascas mo dhánta inti         á múnlú go cáiréiseach         gur lonraíodar mar an ré

Beloved, a dream of a disused factory where I pulped my poems         carefully transforming them         into shimmering moonlight

Kenneth White: Fánaí ar Chonair an Haiku

Kenneth White (Scottish Poetry Library)

Tamall maith de bhlianta ó shin chuireas Kenneth White i láthair ag léamh filíochta san Alliance Française, BÁC. Mhaslaigh Brendan Kennelly é: Cathaoirleach Ealaín na Filíochta san Fhichiú hAois sa Sorbonne á ionsaí ag Ollamh ó Choláiste na Tríonóide. Dochreidte! Ach deirtear gur measa an naimhdeas idir ollúna áirithe agus an t-aighneas idir Putin agus Zelensky  . . .

Albanach é White agus cónaí air le fada ar chósta thuaidh na Briotáine, mar sin ní hionadh go dtarraingíonn sé ar scoláirí Ceilteacha – Robin Flower, Kuno Meyer agus Kenneth Jackson – agus comparáid á déanamh aige idir an litríocht Cheilteach agus sensibilité na máistrí haiku. Mar a deir Jackson,

‘The most striking quality about the early medieval Celtic literatures, the more striking when one compares them with other contemporary literatures of Europe, is their power of vivid imagination and freshness of approach  . . .’

Is ar an úire, seachas aon ní eile, a leagann White an bhéim sa leabhar Eyes Wide Open (The Fishing Cat Press, BÁC, 2021). Úire agus folús. Is féidir an leabhar a ordú anseo:

http://www.haikuspirit.org/fishingcatpress.html

Cúpla haiku de chuid Kenneth White:

cad a thug air

filleadh ar an oileán tréigthe úd?

ceannbhán sa ghaoth

níl a scáil fiú le feiscint

ach is ann dó

an cruidín

níos sia siar fós

grian bhán ag lonrú

ar charraig eibhir

maidneachan

rónta ag tafann

muir cheobhránach

carraigeacha dearga

faoi ghrian na maidine

agus scairt bhán na bhfaoileán

Luimneach

Ukraine? Well, it's all smoke and mirrors
I tell you, 'twould give you the shivers
             Those mercenaries are hot
             But some of 'em get shot
In the kidneys and also the livers!

Níor mhaith liom bheith thall san Úcráin
Na diabhail bhochta - táid i sáinn
           Agus cad faoi na hamhais
           Gach duine acu ina bhroghais
Agus cuid acu ina luí i ngort gráin

Vasily Vasilyevich Vereshchagin (1842-1904)

An Taj Mahal á bhaint as a chéile Tá beartaithe ag an rialtas an Taj Mahal a bhaint as a chéile. D’fhógair urlabhraí: Deora an Mhoslamaigh, tar éis an tsaoil . . . An bhféadfaidís a bheith ina bhfíor-dheora? Líontar an Yamuna le deora áthais! Tá an Taj Mahal le leagan!

The dismantling of the Taj Mahal The government has decided to dismantle the Taj Mahal. A spokesperson announced: The tears of a Muslim, after all . . . Can they be real tears? Let the Yamuna be filled with tears of joy! The Taj Mahal is coming down!

Alfred Kubin

a thaisce, stoirm ag séideadh anois ó gach aird ag an am céanna         agus istigh ina lár         tá tú dom' scrúdú go grinn

Beloved, a storm blowing simultaneously from all directions         now, in the eye of the storm         Your eye, steady, unblinking

Babhdán: Adjei Agyei-Baah

 

uacht dhaideo

a chuid éadaigh go léir

don bhabhdán

gort geimhridh

iompaíonn babhdán

ina fhear sneachta

gealach lán

an babhdán ag faire

ar a scáil féin

gort folamh

babhdán ag breathnú

ar bhabhdán

scioból

faoi sholas na gealaí

coiscéimeanna an bhabhdáin

Adjei Agyei-Baah

SCARING CROW

With a Foreword by Hiroaki Sato

Tanuki

 

mura bhfuil fhios agat

nach bhfuil ann ach taibhreamh

ní heol duit faic - tada

if you don't know

it's a dream

you know nothing - zero!

Bog / Portach

Ron Rosenstock
cén t-am é cén bhliain í seo – portach i nDeilphi	what time is it what year is this – a bog in Delphi

Bláth/ Flower

Ron Rosenstock
paidir shaonta ó chroí saonta . . . pléascann bláth solasmhar ar neamh
	a simple prayer from a simple heart . . . a flower blooms in heaven

Fritz Rehm

deireadh brionglóidí gal ag éirí, a ansacht ag lorg foinse         cathain a cuireadh tús leo         an é seo is deireadh leo

dreams go up in smoke curling fantastically seeking origins         say, when did this dream begin         beloved, has it ended

Túr Bhaile Uí Laoi / Thoor Ballylee, 1972

Ron Rosenstock, Túr Bhaile Uí Laoi, 1972
scairt na breithe is an bháis sa nóiméad céanna
	the anguish of birth and that of death cry out in the same instant

A found haiku in A Vision, an occult work by W. B. Yeats, published privately in 1925