Marx ...

 

Dán ón India

I came across poems by Jacinta Kerketta in the current issue of Modern Poetry in Translation (No. 2, 2024). As a language-activist poet-translator, you can see why I was immediately drawn to her work. I wanted to know more. I have made a transcreation in Irish (and recording) of the second poem below, one of the most moving eco-poems I have encountered in many a day.

 

 

 

 

 

Cén fáth nach bPioctar an Mathua den Chrann?

A Mháithrín, cén fáth a fhanann tú ar feadh na hoíche
go dtite an mathua?
Cén fáth nach bpiocann tú
na torthaí go léir den chrann?

Arsa mo Mháithrín -
Mairid sa bhroinn an oíche go léir.
Nuair a thagann a n-uain
Titid go talamh as a stuaim féin.
 Ag breacadh an lae, agus iad ar maos i ndrúcht
Bailímid iad le tabhairt abhaile linn.

Agus an crann i dtinneas clainne
An oíche go léir
Abair liom, conas a chroithfinn
an ghéag go teann?
Abair, conas a phiocfainn an mathua
go fórsúil den chrann?
 
Fanaimid, sin uile,
Mar go bhfuil grá againn dóibh.
 

Why the Mahua is not Plucked from the Tree?

Mother, why do you wait all night
for the mahua to drop?
Why don’t you not
just pluck all the mahua from the tree?
 
Mother says –
They live in the womb all night long.
When the time for their birth comes
They fall by themselves to the earth.
At dawn, when they’re soaked in the dew
We pick them up and bring them home.
 
When the tree is going through
Labor pains all night long
Tell me, how I can
shake the branch hard?
Say, how I can  forcibly
pluck the mahua from a tree?
 
We just wait
Because we love them.

   क्यों महुए तोड़े नहीं जाते पेड़ से?/ Kyon Mahue Tode Nahi Jate Ped Se?/ Why the Mahua is not Plucked from the Tree?

Alex Salmond

 

Photo: Ron Rosenstock

Alex Salmond
O is he dead then?
say the waters of Loch Leven


Alex Salmond
Ó, an marbh atá sé?
a deir uiscí Loch Lìobhan


Alex Salmond
fegs! is he deid then?
threep the watters o Loch Leven

Scots: John McDonald

The English version of this haiku (or senryu) echoes a  sonnet by G. M. Hopkins, Felix Randal, (1880) which also contains the poet-priest's blessing:

Ah well, God rest him all road ever he offended!

Dán Cogaigh / War Poem

 

War Poem #14

i’ve sat among arab villagers
            along the sea
                        drinking tea
                                    eating dried fruits

praying with story and laughter
for each other’s survival

Mimi German

  قصيدة الحرب #14                                                                                                    

  
لقد جلست بين القرويين العرب
            على طول البحر
                        شربت الشاي
                                    تناول الفواكه المجففة
الصلاة بالقصة والضحك
من أجل بقاء بعضهم لبعض

שיר מלחמה #14

 
הסתופפתי עם פלאחים
   לחופי הים
     לוגמת תה
      מנשנשת פירות יבשים
 
מתפללת עם סיפור וצחוק
מייחלת עבור שנינו – השרדות

Dán Cogaidh # 14

do shuíos-sa i bhfochair na n-arabach
          cois cósta
              ag ól tae
                 torthaí triomaithe á n-ithe againn

is sinn ag guí le seanchas is le gáire
go dtiocfaimis go léir slán

Ko Un

 

Note: Gabriel  brought out the selected poems of Ko Un, transcreations in Irish, a number of years ago.

Two beggars

By Ko Un
(1933 - )

Two beggars
sharing a meal of the food they've been given

The new moon shines intensely

BEIRT BHACACH

Beirt bhacach
roinnid an béile a tugadh dóibh

Gealach úr ag lonrú go tréan

Tashlich

(15 Meán Fómhair 1996)
 le Stanley H. Barkan

    

    Duáin níl agam

    ná líontáin,

    le caitheamh 

    ar na huiscí suaite.

    Gan agam ach grabhróga

    do na héisc

    atá ag feitheamh faoi bhun an droichid,

    sa duibheagán,

    a mbéal ar leathadh

    agus iad amplach ar an dromchla.

    Tá an t-arán caite agam

    ar na huiscí

    athshlánaithe,

    mo chuid peacaí go léir,

    ag súil le bliain eile

    nuair a bheidh mo phócaí

    folamh,

    is faic eile le caitheamh agam

    chun na n-uiscí.

Cóip Léirmheasa/ REVIEW COPY

When a snail starts following a shining path, he begins to wonder: 

'What's this? What does it mean? Where is it going? Where did it begin? Where will it end?'

Only one other snail has the answer. Grandfather! Now brought to life in an Irish-language edition as well, Gabriel Rosenstock's poetic vision and Masood Hussain's magical eccentric artwork provide an unusual introduction for young readers (8-12+) coming to terms with spirituality, religion, and the meaning of life.

 

 

Paperback and hardback editions available.

Reviewers may request a copy now, from the undersigned. Please supply name and address (no PO boxes, please).

Aoibhinn, a leabhráin, do thriall.

Gabriel Rosenstock

Both titles published by Cross- Cultural Communications. New York.

 

Íosa, mac Mhuire/ Jesus, son of Mary

 Íosa, mac Mhuire/ Jesus, son of Mary is an ekphrastic poem in Irish and English by Gabriel Rosenstock,  inspired by Christuskopf, a painting by German artist Hermann Stenner (1891 -1914) and these words from The Holy Quran, 3.45:  

"O Mary, indeed Allah gives you good tidings of a word from Him, whose name will be the Messiah, Īsā, (Jesus), the son of Mary."

                              

    Íosa, mac Mhuire

    A Íosa, an mbíonn tú fós ag guí?
    An mbíonn tú ag guí ar son deireadh na coimhlinte
    sa Phalaistín, d'fhód dúchais?
    Nó deireadh leis an bPalaistín féin
    Deireadh le hIosrael
    Deireadh le gach náisiún?
    Nach fada i mbun mioscaise iad na náisiúin chéanna.
    Más domhan gan náisiún ar bith ann do ghuíse,

    A Chroí Ró-Naofa, Íosa,

    Lig dom guí  id' theanntasa.

    Jesus, son of Mary

    Jesus, do you still pray?
    Do you pray for the end of conflict
    in Palestine, your native home,
    Or do you pray for the end of Palestine itself
    The end of Israel
    The end of all nations?
    Nations have been brewing mischief long enough.
    If a nationless world is your prayer,

  O Sacred Heart of Jesus

    Allow me to pray with you.

Aiséirí / Resurrection

Aiséirí / Resurrection is an anti-war poem, in Irish and English, in response to a painting of the same title by Hermann Stenner who was only 23 when he was killed during the First World War.

 

 

Auferstehung (1914) Hermann Stenner

 Resurrection

Will they rise from the dead
the casualties of all wars;
will armies be cleansed, miraculously,
of their hate, and prejudice?
Will war propaganda be recognised as what it really is -
lie after lie after lie.
If not, and if we plunge into World War III
will newspapers print one last headline:
OOPS, WE SHOULDN'T HAVE ENCOURAGED THEM!
Too late now.

 Aiséirí

Na mairbh a cailleadh i ngach cogadh go dtí seo
an bhfuil sé i ndán dóibh aiséirí;
an nglanfar na saighdiúirí, trí mhíorúilt éigin
ionas nach n-aithneoidh siad fuath ná claontacht go deo arís?
An ndearbhófar ansin bolscaireacht chogaidh
mar bhréag i ndiaidh bréige i ndiaidh bréige?
Mura dtarlóidh sé sin, agus má thumfar sa Tríú Cogadh Domhanda sinn
an mbeidh ceannlíne amháin fágtha ag na nuachtáin:
HOIPS, NÍOR CHEART DÚINN IAD A SPREAGADH!
Ródhéanach, is baolach.

 

 

 

 

 

Dán

Fómhar 2024/ Autumn2024 is an ekphrastic poem in Irish and English by Gabriel Rosenstock, in response to a work of art (c.1874) by Hungarian poet-philosopher  
László Mednyánszky.

 

 

Fómhar

 
Ar thugais faoi ndeara?
Tá an fómhar ann!
Fómhar lom, bréan.
Is dealbh é an domhan
agus is folamh é croí an duine.
Ní bhraithimid cumhracht a thuilleadh,
Toradh ár saothair i bpáirceanna is i bhfíonghoirt.
A fháinleoga, an ag teacht atá sibh
Nó ag imeacht,
Den uair dheireanach?
 
 

Autumn

 
Have you noticed?
It is autumn now!
A bare, foul autumn.
The world is denuded
and the heart of Man is empty.
It cannot detect fragrances, fruits,
The rewards of labouring in fields and vineyards.
Swallows, are you coming
Or are you going
For the last time?
 

 Herbst 2024

 
Habt ihr es bemerkt?
Es ist Herbst!
Ein barer, garstiger Herbst.
Die Welt ist entblößt
Und das Herz des Menschen leer.
Es kann keine Düfte wahrnehmen, keine Früchte,
Keinen Ertrag der Arbeit auf Feldern und in Weinbergen.
Schwalben, kommt ihr
Oder geht ihr
Zum letzten Mal?
 

Übertragung ins Deutsche: Jürgen Schneider

Polaitíocht na hEagla / The Politics of Fear

Maynard Dixon      

                               

The Politics of Fear

       

We do not know who or what we are

We huddle in fear

There is no warmth from one another

Nothing but cold fear.

Leaders of the world, have you brought us to this?

Fear begins to smell like a rotting animal

A fox shot between the two eyes

Its tongue hanging out limply, scorched by the sun

                                    

Polaitíocht na hEagla

Táimid gróigthe le chéile agus eagla orainn

Níl teas ar bith ag teacht óna chéile

Fuareagla amháin.

A cheannairí an domhain, an é seo toradh bhur gcuid oibre?

Tagann boladh ainmhí ón eagla, ainmhí atá ag lobhadh

 Sionnach a lámhachadh idir an dá shúil

A theanga ar liobarna, barrdhóite ag an ngrian

tafann na dtonn

A PDF of a new book of photo-haiku herewith, The Barking Waves

This is a broad explanatory note on the project:

A great landscape photographer is aware of the Heraclitean maxim, 'You never step into the same river twice'. What does that mean? It means

that American master photographer Ron Rosenstock has been exploring the mysterious and ever-delightful hinterland of Westport for the past half-century without ever

tiring of it! Today's disease is, 'Been there, done that.' Have you really been there? Have you been anywhere? Without awareness, without mindfulness you've been nowhere. And if you go back, do you think it's going to be the same place? How could it be? Heraclitus says, Panta rhei, all is flux! Even in the space of half an hour, the landscapes of Co. Mayo, so prized by Ron Rosenstock, can change in a second.

A cloud appears that wasn't there before. The light begins to work its magic, to announce the coming of twilight. These ever-changing variations of light and shade create landscapes which bewitch and invite not only the photographer, but the haikuist as well. The haikuist is conscious of a living landscape and when the two artforms come

together, photography and haiku, we can create meditative moments together. The experience, when repeated over and over again, can sharpen and enrich our awareness of the living world and contribute to mindfulness.

I have followed Ron on his photographic tours and odysseys, to Morocco, Scotland, the Faroe Islands - and Mayo! - not as a chronicler. To describe what I see would be tautologous. What the haikuist does is somehow to reflect the spiritual or poetic effect which the photograph has on his consciousness. I view Ron's photographs as

masterpieces. I can return to a photo I haven't looked at in a year and write a completely new haiku to match it. It seems to me that each photograph is mysteriously alive!

Print version from Foyles 

Éilias á chothú ag fiach dubh

Giovanni Girolamo Savoldo (1485 – 1548)

Éilias

Tá an scéal ar eolas agat.

Má tá na gadhair sona

gan chúis -

tá cúis leis!

Tá Éilias, fáidh, sa chomharsanacht!

A leithéid de dhuine!

Mar sin, abair liom.

Conas tá na gadhair na laethanta seo

in Rafah?

An sona dóibh?

ELIJAH

Ye ken the crack.

Whan the dugs'r blithe

fir nae raison -

thair's a raison!

The prophet Elijah is near haun!

Whit a chiel!

So, witter me

hou'r the dugs thae days

in Rafah?

ur thay blithe?

                               

Leagan Béarla na hAlban: John McDonald

  

Ο Ηλίας

Ξέρεις την ιστορία.

Όταν τα σκυλιά είναι χαρούμενα

για κανένα λόγο –

υπάρχει λόγος!

Ο προφήτης Ηλίας είναι στη γειτονιά!

Τι τύπος!

Λοιπόν πες μου

Πώς είναι τα σκυλιά

αυτές τις μέρες στη Ράφα;

Είναι χαρούμενα;

Leagan Gréigise: Dino Siotis

Elijah

You know the story.

When the dogs are happy

for no reason -

there's a reason!

The prophet Elijah is in the neighbourhood!

What a guy!

So, tell me

How are the dogs these days

in Rafah?

Are they happy?

Image: Kazuyuki Ohtsu

A single leaf falls 

then suddenly another

stolen by the breeze.

Rensetsup

1654-1707

titeann duilleog aonair

ansin go tobann

sciobann leoithne ceann eile

jedan list padne

tada odjednom drugi

ukraden lahorom

Croatian: Tomislav Maretić

ஓர் இலை உதிர்கிறது

உடனே இன்னொன்று

காற்று களவாடிச் செல்கிறது

Tamil : Tamilmainthan John Richard

 

Haiku agus grianghraf le Jason Symes

an mise

fheiceann grian na maidine

an mise tusa?

the "i" that sees

the morning sun

 am i you?

.

Photo-Haiku: Kon Markogiannis

abhainn ag rith

sliabh ciúin 

     is ionann iad

ஓடும் நதி

        நிசப்த மலை

                 இரண்டும் ஒன்றே

Tamil: Tamilmainthan John Richard.