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2022-12-31

Anon (An tSeapáin)

tá trua acu dhom
mar go bhfuilim im' dhaor agat
'tá a anam díolta aige!'
        agatsa atá an scéal ar fad
        tusa an croí ionam is m'anam
they pity me
and say I am Your slave
'he has sold his soul!'
        You alone know the truth
        for You are my heart and soul

2022-12-30

Elin Danielson-Gambogi

cad is ádh ann . . . . cinniúint
'bhfuil sé ar fad sna cártaí
cén seans a bhí ann
        go gcloisfinn t'ainmse
        i lár an rachlais is an dorchadais
what is luck . . .destiny
is it all in the cards
what were the chances
        I would hear Your name
        amid all the turmoil and darkness

2022-12-29

Fedir Krychevsky

am ag an mbáisteach stopadh
ag gaotha dul a luí
ag an am féin fiafraí de féin
        cá dtéann sé, a shearc
        nuair nach bhfuil ann ach buille do chroí
time for rains to cease
time for winds to sleep
time for time itself to wonder
        where it goes when nothing
        beloved, exists but Your heartbeat

2022-12-28

Fyodor Bronnikov

iad siúd a adhrann an ghrian
is tusa a adhrann siad, a shearc
lucht adhartha na maidine!
        níl cuntas ar na hoícheanta síoraí
        na hoícheanta fuara úd i d'éagmais
they who worship the sun
worship You, beloved
worshippers of the morning!
        I cannot count the endless nights
        cold endless nights without You

2022-12-26

Maximilien Luce

loinnir na maidine
gach lá mar an gcéanna
tóraíocht ar fhoinse an tsolais
        a shearc, is í do ghilese an loinnir sin
        a fheictear roimh an gcamhaoir
glow of morning . . .
each day the same
a quest for the source of light
        beloved, Your radiance it is that streams
        and is seen before dawn

2022-12-25

Bokudō Sojun

Su Shi ar mhuin asail
cé nach mbeadh
ina ridire dhuit, a stór
cé nach raghadh amach
        is fogha a thabhairt faoi mhuilte gaoithe
        fiú sa ré dhearóil seo
who would not be
a Don Quijote for You
who would not venture out
        and tilt at windmills
        even in this age of ours, beloved

2022-12-24

Jules Breton

ní bheannaítear an chruithneacht níos mó
is beag ní a bheannaítear, a shearc
tá an saol ag athrú
        athróidh choíche is go deo
        beannófar an domhan athuair
no longer is the wheat blessed
blessings are few, beloved
the world has changed
        and will go on changing
        and be blessed again one day

2022-12-23

Hieronymus Bosch

shíleadar dá mbainfidis í -
cloch na gealtachta -
go mbeadh gach ní i gceart
        go ndeardúdfainn thú, a ansacht
        iadsan atá as a meabhair
they thought if they removed it -
the stone of madness -
all would be well
        I would forget You
        it is they, beloved, that are mad

2022-12-21

Smaoineamh an Lae

Ní gá go n-eascródh an t-ainrialachas as féiniúlacht ar bith. Is minic go n-eascraíonn sé as seasamh atá lasmuigh den fhéiniúlacht - is é sin, an tuairim atá ag Stirner go bhfuil a fhéiniúlacht féin ag gach duine. Deir Gelderloos, agus an argóint aige bunaithe ar a thaithí féin, nach n-oireann féiniúlacht ar bith dó as na féiniúlachtaí go léir a bhrúigh an tsochaí air, sochaí a thug oidhreacht dó a raibh na nithe ba luachmhaire leis in easnamh uirthi.

Lupus Dragonowl 

2022-12-20

síocháin / peace

 

Joe Brainard (1942-1994)


áit éigin
deacair teacht uirthi . . .
síocháin

somewhere
not easy to find . . .
peace

2022-12-19

Nuair a thagann tú

 Aon uair go dtagann tú
bím fréamhaithe, gan chorraí,
crann ina sheasamh
dealbh bhalbh.

Chomh geal leis an lá
atá uair seo ár gcaidrimh
chomh glas leis an bhféar.

An scarúint, ámh,
chomh cinnte leis an mbás.

Anupama Basumatry




2022-12-18

Cailín Gújár/ Gujar girl

 
Photo: Rafiq Kathwari

 

cáilín Gújár
a leath-mheangadh  . . .
cén t-aingeal coimhdeachta atá aici?


Gujar girl
her half smile  . . .
what angel looks after her?

2022-12-17

Ciúbanna Oighir, Cáca agus Arán (Roti)

Tar éis leathghloine, Camus, Kafka, Sartre agus Foucault
an dara leathghloine, Date, Neruda, Ginsberg is Picasso
an tríú ceann, Freud, Marx, Mayakovsky, is Daniken -
            á meascadh le ciúbanna oighir,
            á mblaiseadh go sóch,
            gan buille an mheán oíche
            a thabhairt faoi deara
Tá tugtha faoi deara againne, ámh
go bhfuil dhá ghadhar sa bhaile aige
beirt shearbhóntaí agus gealach lán,
agus itheann na gadhair cáca
agus na searbhóntaí arán dóite (roti)


Souvik Bandyopadhyay



2022-12-16

Parking lot/ Carrchlós

 

Photo: Rafiq Kathwari

croí loiscneach
na Caismíre  . . .
piobair dhearga i gcarrchlós

the burning heart
of Kashmir  . . .
red peppers in a parking lot

2022-12-15

Scaoiltear Saor na Beacha Cailgeacha

Is ard iad na cnoic agus is ard iad na crainn mahua
A phobal Bhirsa

Ó na mahuanna éiríonn glór an phríomh-dhól
Dúisígi na nagadaí atá faoi shuan.
A phobal Bhirsa
Cruinnígí Bhils na gcnoc
Cuir i ranganna iad Bhils na gcnoc
A phobal Bhirsa
Déan comhaireamh ar na Bhils
A phobal Bhirsa
Dhá crór déag is dhá lakh is triocha
Déan comhaireamh ar na blianta
A phobal Bhirsa
As na potaí cré
Scaoiltear saor na beacha cailgeacha.

Kanji Patel




2022-12-14

An Tráthnóna

Crainn
is iad chomh dubh le braoithe
an leannáin is mascára orthu

sleamhnaíonn
an cnoc go ciúin
ina mhachnamh féin

gáireann an spéir
luisne ina snó

an tráthnóna sin
i mo sheomra
báite i mo chuid oibre

agus uaigneas orm
mar is gnáth

i mo chime

na héin amháin
is iad ag eitilt timpeall a bhraitheann sona

Garikapati Pavan Kumar
The Evening

2022-12-13

Ambapali

Garrán dlúth duilleogach seo na mangónna
Cumhracht na mbláthanna úra
Ní hann dó - ní mhairfidh, a Ambapali,
De réir an Tathagat.
Na duilleoga seo, chomh glas le cleití pearaicíte
Titfidh,
Feofaidh géaga loma;
Ní mheallfar an éanlaith anseo níos mó -
An Tathagat a dúirt.

Féachann Ambapali sa scáthán
Agus fiafraíonn dá súile gleoite, chomh geal le seoda,
Fiafraíonn dá dlaoithe, chomh dubh le saithe beach,
Fiafraíonn dá braoithe cuartha,
Fiafraíonn dá colainn chumhra mhaisithe
Fiafraíonn dá mianta ar crith ar a beola

Arsa Ambapali
An bhféadfadh aon chuma eile
a bheith ar bhriathra seo an Tathagat mhacánta?

V P Tiwari





2022-12-12

Duilleog ar Ghéag

Suite ar ghéag a bhí sí;
uiscí an locha thíos fúithi,
agus scáil na spéire iontu,
bhí eagla uirthi go mbáfaí í
ach . . .
níor shnámh sí, níor bádh í, ná níor eitil léi,
shuigh sí ar an ngéag, sin an méid, is d'fheoigh sa deireadh.
Duilleoigín aonair ar ghéag!

Gulzar



2022-12-11

Geimhreadh

Cnocán dearg i gcéin
faoi bhrat ceo
cromann crann
thar abhainn

Canúnna ar foluain thar mhearchaisí
osnaí an chlapsholais á n-adhlacadh ag an oíche

Sa tigh sceirdiúil
folamh anois ag an ngaoth dheireanach fhómhair
seanveidhlín clúdaithe le fada
ag deannach

Aréir
tar éis na báistí chonac
scáil ina luí taobh lem' chloigeannsa
ar an urlár

Ar liomsa í

Bijoy Sankar Barman



2022-12-10

Nithe Áille

Nílimse in ann
nithe áille a dhéanamh ar nós
iceabána
nó oragámaí
nó bróidnéireacht.
Ach is cuma faoi sin
mar
táim go maith
ag rith in aghaidh
na mballaí céanna dofheicthe seo
arís is arís eile;
mar
níl aon rud sa saol seo
chomh hálainn ná baol air
le hanam
is é ag réabadh leis
i dtreo
a mhillte.

Amrita Nair



2022-12-09

Stair an Chirt

Tá pléascóga tine á gcur san aer ag roinnt páistí ón gcomharsanacht
Cois bhalla ár gcompúin. Mamó
Ag béicíl orthu. Meangadh gáire ar mham
Tá a fhios aici nach dtabharfar aon aird uirthi. D’fhan daideo tráth
Ina shuí déanach cois fuinneoige ar an gcéad urlár
Ag feitheamh leis an meisceoir a dheineadh a mhún
Gach oíche in aghaidh an bhalla chun go ndoirtfeadh sé buicéad maith lán d’uisce
Anuas ar a cheann agus an oíche gheimhridh ag cur seaca.
Ar shlí na fírinne atá sé le fada, ár ndaideo.
Ach níl dearmad déanta ag mamó ar aghaidh bhasctha
An fhir úd a ceanglaíodh de chuaille lasmuigh den teach
As leircín a dhéanamh dá bhean chéile. Agus aghaidh an duine bhoicht á hionsaí ag doirne dhaideo. Mamó
Cois fuinneoige ag smaoineamh di féin: ar phósas-sa brúid?
Ach thar aon ní eile, aghaidh a chéile óig aimsir
Na réabhlóide nuair a thug sí cuairt air sa charcair,
Crochta bun os cionn, nocht, a bhí sé ar feadh dhá lá,
Láib á sá ina bhéal ag an gCigire Beangálach
Agus é á rá de shíor, Beathaigh é le cré, ar son cré atá siad ag troid.

Rohan Chhetri


 

History of Justice

Some kids from the neighbourhood are bursting firecrackers
by the side of our compound wall. Grandmother is
screaming at them. Mother smiles knowing
they won’t listen. Grandfather once stayed up
late in the night at the window of the first floor
waiting for the drunk who pissed on our wall
every night, so he could slosh a good whole bucket
of cold water over his head in the frosty winter night.
He’s been dead since long, our grandfather.
But grandmother hasn’t forgotten the battered face
of the man who was tied to a post outside the house
for having beaten his wife to a pulp. And grandfather
lunging his fists on the poor man’s face. Grandmother
by the window thinking if she had married a monster.
Most of all, the face of her young husband during the time
of the revolution when she went to see him in the lockup,
where he was hung naked upside down for two days,
with mud shoved in his mouth by the Bengali Inspector who
kept saying, Feed him the land, that’s what they are fighting for

Rohan Chhetri

2022-12-08

Faisal Khan

éist!
teanga na frithheartaíochta 
ag iompó ina cloch

listen!
the language of resistance
becoming stone

2022-12-07

Tost/ Silence

 
Jason Symes
i dtost
a chanann sé  . . .
amhrán glinn an anama


in silence
it sings  . . .
silvery song of the soul

2022-12-06

smaointe/ thoughts

 

Jason Symes

smaointe
lig dóibh imeacht  . . .
cén eagla atá ort

thoughts
let them go . . .
what's to fear

2022-12-05

Kalli

Lean Kalli mé ar feadh ocht míle
go dtí an margadh, ionad trádála na mbó:
ainmhithe á ndíol mar dhaoir.
Beithígh gabhair bulláin camaill . . .
 
Dubh álainn agus sé bliana d’aois a bhí Kalli
an aois ab fhearr le bheith i do bhuabhall uisce.
Seasc a bhí sí. Chuir sí in aghaidh na dtarbh faoi mar
go raibh beartaithe aici nach mbeadh sí torrach arís.
 
Thar ár n-acmhainn, bheartaigh m’athair
ar í a dhíol. Thuig Kalli an scéal, measaim
ghéill dom agus mé á treorú
le slabhra cruach, ceann an tslabhra im’ ghlac
 
An ceann eile timpeall a muiníl.
Cúig bliana déag a bhíos. Ní raibh sí neirbhíseach
a thuilleadh tar éis dúinn dul isteach sa mhargadh
agus a n-áit féin ag díoltóirí ann
 
Ar nós na bhfógraí pósta
ar leathanach mór seachtanáin.
Shuigh Kalli agus gan aon mhothú le léamh uirthi
mar aiséiteach a bhí gar do nirbheána.
 
Shuíos sheasas shiúlas timpeall mar lao
ar deineadh faillí air. Níor cheannaigh éinne Kalli.
Lean sí mé an bóthar ocht míle abhaile
is ní raibh ceist ar bith ina súile.
 
Ní raibh a fhios agam an brón nó áthas
a bhí ar m’athair Kalli a fheiscint arís. D’fhéach
sé uirthi, sin an méid, mar dhuine den teaghlach
a chaill an traein.

Ajmer Rode

Kalli

Kalli followed me 8 miles
to the market where cattle were traded
or sold like slaves.
Cows goats bullocks camels . . .

Kalli was black beautiful and six
the prime age for a water buffalo.
She was dry. Repelled bulls as if she had
decided not to get pregnant again.

Hard to afford, my father decided
to sell her. Kalli seemed to understand.
She obeyed as I led her
by the steel chain, one end in my hand

the other around her neck.
I was fifteen. Her nervousness was over
soon after we entered the market
where sellers occupied

their given spaces like matrimonials
on a large weekly page.
Kalli sat with no emotion on her face
like an ascetic close to nirvana.

I sat stood walked around like a
neglected calf. No body bought Kalli.
She followed me 8 miles back home
with no questions in her eyes.

I wasn’t sure if my father was sad
or glad to see Kalli back. He just
looked at her like a family member
who had missed the train.

Ajmer Rode

2022-12-04

fianna/ deer

 

Jason Symes



fianna . . .
gan de ghlór ann
ach a mbuille croí

deer  . . .
a heartbeat
the only noise

2022-12-03

Ní Imíonn an tAm

Ní raibh Baje in ann dul síos go dtí na goirt
Anuraidh, bhí bata aige agus leis sin shroiseadh sé an clós
An uair seo níor bhain sé amach ach an póirse
Tar éis trí lá sa leaba, d'imigh Baje uainn.
D'imigh Boju
Ansin thosnaigh bean an tí ag imeacht
D'imigh sí ar dtús ón gclós go dtí an póirse
ag an bpóirse ba bhabhdán í a chosain an grán
a bhí á thriomú sa chlós
D'imigh an solas as a súile,
as a cosa, d'imigh neart na ngéag
agus nuair a bhí a cuid mianta ag imeacht
d'imigh sí féin ansin.
Lá amháin, thosnaigh cailín óg fiáin do mo mhealladh
ach bhíos-sa im' loch séimh, im' linn lena taobh
Bhí an óige ag imeacht uaim
san fhómhar buí, sna goirt
an rís ina chocaí
bhí an grán imithe agus aoileach ab ea é anois
Tá an domhan féin ag imeacht gach aon lá
Tá an t-atmaisféar ag imeacht isteach sa pholl ózóin
Le himeacht na síolóige, is an phlanda
imeacht na mbláthanna is na nduilleog marbh
imeacht na duilleoige is an phéacáin
imeacht na bachlóige is an bhlátha
leis na himeachtaí sin uile
d'imigh an loiteog bheannaithe de dhroim an domhain
Ach níor imigh an t-am
Níl an t-am ann
D'imeodh an t-am dá mbeadh sé ann.

Rajendra Bhandari


Time does not Pass

Baje has become incapable of going down to the fields
Last year, using a stick, he could reach the yard
This time he only made it to the porch
After a three-day confinement, Baje passed away.
Boju passed away
Then mother began to pass away
At first she passed from the yard to the porch
At the porch she became a scarecrow to the grain
drying in the yard
The light passed from her eyes,
from her legs, the strength to stand
even as her desires were passing,
she passed away herself.
One day, a wild young thing flirted with me
But like a calm lake, I pooled by her side
Youth was passing from me
In the yellow autumn, in the fields
the paddy was passing into haystacks
the grain had passed and become manure
The world itself is passing every day
The atmosphere is passing into the ozone hole
With the passing of seedling, and of plant
the passing of flower and dead leaves
the passing of leaf and shoot
the passing of bud and flower
with these passages
the venerable lotus passed from the face of the earth
But time has not passed
Time is just not there
Time would pass, if at all it existed.

Rajendra Bhandari


2022-12-02

Pé créacht a fhágann fear ar bhean . . .

 Vatsyayana
as an Kámá Sútrá

Pé créacht a fhágann fear ar bhean . . .

Pé créacht a fhágann fear ar bhean  . . .
An fhreagairt do ‘spota’ is ea ‘bláthfhleasc’,
Agus do ‘bhláthfhleasc’ an ‘néal scaipthe’.
Ag ligean uirthi fearg a bheith uirthi,
Is mar seo a chuireann bean tús le hachrann
Beireann sí greim gruaige air
A aghaidh á brú síos aici agus ólann as a bhéal;
Léimeann sí air agus sánn a cuid fiacla ann
Thall is abhus, as a meabhair le dúil.
Scíth á glacadh aici ar ucht a leannáin,
Ardaíonn sí a cheann agus sánn a cuid fiacla ina mhuineál
Le ‘bláthfhleasc na séad’
Nó plaic ar bith eile atá ar eolas aici.
 
Ar fheiceáil an fhir di, fiú i lár an lae,
I lár comhluadair, agus an marc sin
A d’fhág sise air, gáireann sí
Gan fhios do chách.
Ansin, agus grainc uirthi mar dhea,
Ag ligean uirthi bheith ag tabhairt amach dó
Ar nós mar a bheadh éad uirthi, nochtann sí
Na marcanna ar a colainn féin.
Nuair a chaitheann beirt mar sin lena chéile
Go modhúil agus tuiscint acu do mhothúcháin a chéile
Ní éagfaidh a ngrá
Fiú in imeacht céad bliain.

 Vatsyayana from Kamasutra : ‘Whatever wound a man inflicts on a woman’ p. 76

 
Whatever wound a man inflicts on a woman...
the response to a 'dot' is a 'garland',
and to a 'garland', a 'scattered cloud'.
Pretending to be angry,
this is how a woman picks a quarrel
She grabs him by the hair
and bends down his face and drinks from his mouth;
she pounces on him and bites him
here and there, crazed with passion.
Resting on the chest of the man she loves,
she raises his head and bites him on the neck
with the 'garland of jewels'
or any other bite
she knows.
 
When she sees the man, even in the daytime,
in the midst of a group of people, displaying the mark
that she herself made on him, she laughs
unnoticed by others.
Then, pretending to wrinkle her face,
and pretending to rebuke the man,
as if in jealousy, she displays
the marks made on her own body.
 
When two people behave in this way
with modesty and concern for one another's feelings,
their love will never wane,
not even in a hundred years.
 

tr. Wendy Doniger and Sudhir Kakar (from Sanskrit)

2022-12-01

Díchumtha

Tá pictiúr agam a thógas i Mumbai
de bhacach ina chodladh ar an gcosán:
liath, bríste gairid air, léine bhréan,
a scáil caite i leataobh mar bhlaincéad.
 
Scoilteanna sa chloch iad a ghéaga ba dhóigh leat,
aistear na seangán, tuirlingt na gcuileog,
cortha ag dianteagasc na gréine,
is féith i gcloch ina luí é, ón gclochaois.
 
Laistiar de tá slua ag baint taitnimh
éigin as draíodóir sráide agus iad beag beann
ar an radharc an-chomónta seo
de sheanfhear ina luí ar chosán.
 
Shíleas gur dea-phíosa cumadóireachta é,
thugas ‘Fear na Sráide’ air go pras
agus thugas suntas d’fhear na sráide san Ind
is cónaí air ar an tsráid.
 
I riocht duine a bheadh ag caoineadh
ina philiúr é a cheann atá ag tabhairt casaoide
anois dom toisc ealaín a bheith á cumadh agam
faoina ocras is faoina uaigneas.
Zulfikar Ghose