Measaim gur Buachaill Bó í an Múinteoir

 (après John Coldwell)

Ní hé amháin toisc go dtagann sí ar scoil ar muin capaill
Agus go mbíonn Colt 45 aici ina mála láimhe
Ní hé amháin go siúlann sí agus a dhá lámh aici thar a cromáin

Ní hé amháin an tslí a ngléasann sí í féin:
Hata stenson agus spoir ar na buataisí.

Ní hé amháin a cuid cainte é
An O.K. Corral a thabhairt ar an gclós súgartha
Oifig an tSirriam a thabhairt ar Sheomra an Phríomhoide

Ach nuair a bhuaileann an clog
a ligeann dúinn dul abhaile
Buaileann sí a ceathrú clé
agus ligeann liú -
        'Yííí hááá!'

Cártaí poist ó ghráinneog

 

i.

A Mhamaí, a stór,
Aimsir aoibhinn.
Chonaic mé sionnach aréir,
dheineas mar a mhol tú dom riamh a dhéanamh
dheineas liathróid díom féin.
Tar éis tamaill, bhailigh sé leis.
Baineadh preab asam mar sin féin.
Ba bhreá liom dá mbeifeá anseo liom.

Le grá, Gearóid

ii.

A Mhamaí, a stór,
Aimsir bhreá inniu.
Chonaic mé gráinneog ghleoite díreach anois.
Nílim cinnte conas mé féin a chur in aithne di.
Déanann sí cúthail mé
ach fós an-teolaí istigh ionam féin.
Dheineas liathróid díom féin.
Ba bhreá liom dá mbeifeá anseo liom.

Le grá, Gearóid

iii.

A Mhamaí, a stór,
Tá sé ag cur báistí inniu. D’itheas seilide drúchta.
Ní raibh sé chomh maith leis na cinn
a d’fhaighimis uaitse.
Measaim go labhróidh mé leis an ngráinneog ghleoite amárach.
B’fhéidir go dtabharfainn seilide drúchta di.
Dheineas liathróid díom féin.
Ba bhreá liom dá mbeifeá anseo liom.

Le grá, Gearóid

iv.

A Mhamaí, a stór,
Tháinig an ghrian amach arís.
Mhúsclaíos mo mhisneach ar maidin
agus chuas chun í a fheiscint.
Dhruideas ina leith go cúramach mar a mhol tú
ach nuair a labhair mé léi
fuaireas amach nach raibh inti ach buaircín.
Bhí náire an domhain orm.
Dheineas liathróid díom féin.

Ba bhreá liom dá mbeifeá anseo liom.

 Le grá, Gearóid

 

 

A.F. Harrold, 

ón leabhar Things You Find In A Poet's Beard  . Féach freisin:

Leabhar Beannaithe (III)

 

"Cruthúnas ar shochaí mhíchothrom dhrocheagraithe is ea an bhochtaineacht, agus níl sna carthanais phoiblí againn ach an chéad spreagadh mall i gcoinsias an robálaí . . ." 

Sri Aurobindo

The existence of poverty is the proof of an unjust and ill-organised society, and our public charities are but the first tardy awakening in the conscience of a robber.”

 

 

Tuilleadh:

Leabhar Beannaithe (II)

 

Níl filíocht ar bith chomh dídhaonnaithe le haiku. In áit bhraistintí agus mhothúcháin an ealaíontóra, tugtar ainmneacha nithe dúinn. Ní dánta iad in aon chor, de réir chaighdeáin an Iarthair - is mó de liosta giorraithe iad. Mar a deir an file-chriticeoir Kenneth Yasuda, ní thugann file Haiku brí dúinn, tugann sé nithe dúinn a bhfuil brí leo; ní dhéanann sé cur síos ar nithe, cuireann sé i láthair iad. Agus murab ionann agus drámaí No, aisteach go leor níl siombalachas ar bith ag baint leis an Haiku . . .
Tógaimis mar shampla, dán de chuid Basho a chum sé ag uaigh duine dá mhic léinn ionúine:

tsuka mo ugoke
waga naku koe wa
aki-no-kazethe

crith, a uaigh, crith
olagón mo ghuthasa
gaoth an fhómhair

Níl mothúcháin á nochtadh anseo, díreach comparáid idir a ghuth caointeach, rud sealadach, agus gaoth shíoraí an fhómhair. Soicind Zen, soicind aitheantais, gan mhothú ná féintrua, ach mar sin féin spreagtar ár gcomhbhá.

Tuilleadh:

Leabhar Beannaithe (I)

 

An Máistir Xu Yun

 

“A Chairde, lig dom scéilín a insint daoibh, scéilín a d'inis saoi dhom uair amháin. Ar seisean: "Bhíos tráth i dtír aineoil, ag siúl síos sráid nár aithníos. D'fhéachas thart. Ní rabhas in ann soir a aithint thar siar; chonaic mé beirt fhear agus chuas faoina ndéin. "Cá bhfuilim?" arsa mise. "Cé sibhse?" Arsa an chéad duine, "Is é seo an domhan ar a dtugtar Samsara, agus is mise an t-abhac is airde ann!" Agus arsa an fear eile, "Sea, agus is mise an fathach is lú ann!" Bhíos trína chéile i gceart mar is ar aon airde a bhíodar beirt.

Íoslódáil an ríomhleabhar Zen saor in aisce

Haibun - WOLF/ Mac Tíre

 bloodshot eyes
of a wild animal
streamlets of ancient lava

súile sreangacha
ainmhí allta
srutháin laibhe ársa


His own generation still refers to him by his ancestral Gaelic warrior-name, Faolchú na Carraige Báine (Wolf of White Rock). Grandchildren refer to him simply as ‘Wolf’, but only among themselves. They think it’s quite cool, Native American, almost! (To use ‘Wolf’ in his presence would be unthinkable, of course).

His great-grandchildren were coached to pronounce his name correctly in the ancestral tongue. Wolf himself insists that Faolchú na Carraige Báine must be intoned properly or not at all. He once snarled at a five-year old great-grandson who uttered his name in an American accent. The child fled the scene, crying hysterically.

‘The ancient title,’ he once explained, ‘is like a mantra or prayer, a special combination of vowels and consonants which when intoned with the proper rhythm and exact emphasis, can empower a receptive person who may wish to become a warrior.’  

He said no more on the subject. Maybe there was no more to be said. Or did he realise that none of us really knew what it all meant? Did he know himself what it signified?

We watch him, cautiously, as he grows increasingly more frail. We find it difficult to believe that lung cancer is capable of doing what his enemies failed to do over the years. His eyes still burn, his glance darting this way and that, as they always did when planning the bones of his next stratagem.

Are there any stratagems left? Any more battles to be fought? When had the last skirmish taken place? The world was changing. His eyes burn, not with the fire of a new, searching dawn but with that of a winter sundown.

He longs with an insatiable, wolfish hunger for the heady days of Empire when his ancestors, masters of the terrain, were the only clan in the whole of Munster who could outwit the Redcoats at each turn. It's said that his followers were not adverse to cannibalism, in am an ghátair (in time of need).

Who is left now? Not a sinner. In the name of Crom Dubh, how was he expected to test his mettle? Nobody left around here but the pale, misguided McCarthys, who have all but given up the ghost.

Something still courses in his greenish, protruding veins. What is it? A sense that the fight is, somehow, not yet over. What fight? He doesn’t know. A long fight it was, or will be. Has it even begun? He grabs his bata draighin, his old blackthorn walking stick, ready to strike. At what? Ah, would you look at the patina on that sturdy stick!

There is none to wear the grey mantle of the clan, none of us worthy enough, strong enough, keen enough – none of us knowledgeable enough to identify the enemy, to take on the ancient title with all its hidden powers – Faolchú na Carraige Báine! Well he knows that. The party is over.

We pretend not to notice but we can hear a hoarseness now in his voice and almost a tremor, a voice that once was capable of giving the McCarthy clan surreal horrible dreams, dreams that forced some of them away to Canada, others into the priesthood, or the civil service – away, far away from the badlands of East Kerry and the creeping shadow of the Wolf of White Rock:



pockmarked face
mirror of a territory
as yet untamed

aghaidh bholgaí
scáthán limistéir
nár ainmníodh fós

Taisen

anseo anois
an bhrí
san fholús


εδώ και τώρα
στο κενό
το νόημα

Sarah Thilykou a dhein an leagan Gréigise

Intleachtaigh Neamhpholaitiúla / INTELECTUALES APOLÍTICOS

Castillo, burned alive, aged 33,
by CIA-backed Guatemalan regime.

de Vámonos patria a caminar, yo te acompaño 

(1965)

Un día,
los intelectuales
apolíticos
de mi país
serán interrogados
por el hombre
sencillo
de nuestro pueblo.
Se les preguntará
sobre lo que hicieron
cuando
la patria se apagaba
lentamente,
como una hoguera dulce,
pequeña y sola.
No serán interrogados
sobre sus trajes,
ni sobre sus largas
siestas
después de la merienda,
tampoco sobre sus estériles
combates con la nada,
ni sobre su ontológica
manera
de llegar a las monedas.
No se les interrogará
sobre la mitología griega,
ni sobre el asco
que sintieron de sí,
cuando alguien, en su fondo,
se disponía a morir cobardemente.
Nada se les preguntará
sobre sus justificaciones
absurdas,
crecidas a la sombra
de una mentira rotunda.
Ese día vendrán
los hombres sencillos.
Los que nunca cupieron
en los libros y versos
de los intelectuales apolíticos,
pero que llegaban todos los días
a dejarles la leche y el pan,
los huevos y las tortillas,
los que les cosían la ropa,
los que le manejaban los carros,
les cuidaban sus perros y jardines,
y trabajaban para ellos,
y preguntarán,
«¿Qué hicisteis cuando los pobres
sufrían, y se quemaba en ellos,
gravemente, la ternura y la vida?»
Intelectuales apolíticos
de mi dulce país,
no podréis responder nada.
Os devorará un buitre de silencio
las entrañas.
Os roerá el alma
vuestra propia miseria.
Y callaréis,
avergonzados de vosotros.

Otto René Castillo

Intleachtaigh Neamhpholaitiúla 

Lá éigin amach anseo

ceisteoidh an dream is saonta

den phobal seo againne

intleachtaigh neamhpholaitiúla

na tíre seo.

Fiafrófar díobh

cad a dheineadar

agus an náisiún ag éag

go mall,

mar thine bheag

léi féin.

Ní cheisteofar iad faoina bhfeisteas,

an siesta fada is nós leo a ghlacadh

tar éis lóin,

ní bheidh spéis ag éinne

faoina ndíospóireachtaí leamha

i dtaobh ‘choincheap an neamhní’

ná sa chur amach atá acu

ar chúrsaí airgeadais.

Ní cheisteofar iad

faoi mhiotaseolaíocht na Gréige,

ná faoin bhféinfhuath a bhraitheann siad

nuair a chailltear duine iontu

de dheasca na meatachta.

Ní cheisteofar iad faoin gcosaint áiféiseach

a dhéanann siad ar seo is ar siúd,

faoi scáth

na bréige.

Tiocfaidh na daoine saonta

ar an lá sin.

Iad siúd nach raibh áit ar bith acu

i leabhair agus i ndánta

na n-intleachtach neamhpholaitiúil,

ach a sheachaid arán agus bainne

go laethúil chucu

na tortilla agus na huibheacha,

iad siúd a thiomáin a gcuid carranna,

a thug aire dá gcuid madraí agus dá gcuid gairdíní

agus a shaothraigh dóibh go dícheallach,

agus fiafróidh siad díobh:

‘Cad a dhein sibh nuair a d’fhulaing

na boicht, nuair a d’éag lasair thláith

na beatha iontu?’

A intleachtacha neamhpholaitiúla

mo thírese,

ní bheidh freagra ar bith agaibh.

Íosfaidh bultúr an tosta

bhur n-ionathar.

Beidh bhur n-ainnise féin

ag piocadh asaibh.

Balbh a bheidh sibh, náirithe.

 

--Otto Rene Castillo

 

Apolitical Intellectuals

One day
the apolitical
intellectuals
of my country
will be interrogated
by the simplest
of our people.

They will be asked
what they did
when their nation died out
slowly,
like a sweet fire
small and alone.

No one will ask them
about their dress,
their long siestas
after lunch,
no one will want to know
about their sterile combats
with "the idea
of the nothing"
no one will care about
their higher financial learning.

They won't be questioned
on Greek mythology,
or regarding their self-disgust
when someone within them
begins to die
the coward's death.

They'll be asked nothing
about their absurd
justifications,
born in the shadow
of the total lie.

On that day
the simple men will come.

Those who had no place
in the books and poems
of the apolitical intellectuals,
but daily delivered
their bread and milk,
their tortillas and eggs,
those who drove their cars,
who cared for their dogs and gardens
and worked for them,
and they'll ask:

"What did you do when the poor
suffered, when tenderness
and life
burned out of them?"

Apolitical intellectuals
of my sweet country,
you will not be able to answer.

A vulture of silence
will eat your gut.

Your own misery
will pick at your soul.

And you will be mute in your shame.

--Otto Rene Castillo 

To our friends,

Three days ago, Columbia Business School professor Shai Davidai tweeted that Columbia student and lead encampment negotiator Mahmoud Khalil was a foreign national, and suggested that Khalil’s Barnard Library sit-in was a “deportable offense.” Canary Mission followed suit only a few hours later.

Columbia University’s faculty and administration have failed to protect Arab students protesting the Zionist genocide in Gaza for almost two years. Their silence and capitulation to the state has set a terrifying precedent. Khalil now sits in ICE detention.

On Saturday, at around 8:30 PM, two plainclothes Department of Homeland Security (DHS) agents followed Mahmoud Khalil and his wife into their New York City apartment building. The officers then detained Khalil without reason. “Agents told him his student visa was revoked. But he had a green card. Agents then said that was revoked too,” reported Zeteo. His wife, who is eight months pregnant, was threatened with arrest if she obstructed. Since then, The White House has bragged about Khalil’s detention: “The first of many to come.”

Trump and his cronies are watching the reaction to this disgusting escalation against those who protest Israel and the American Empire’s genocidal war on Palestine. The Administration and its Zionist allies hope to pave a road to genocide right through any opposition — not just on campuses.

But the foundations of this road have been supported by America’s feckless academic and intellectual class.

During the height of the spring encampments, supposedly pro-Palestine faculty and public intellectuals spouted feeble statements about liberal humanist values of free speech, education, and civil discourse rather than naming the crux of the issue: a Zionist genocide.

“Well-meaning” liberal academic institutions simultaneously sought to infantilize and contain the student protesters’ boldest demands. Unions and civil society failed to allow divestment conversations to take place, releasing statements promoting the appearance of “both sides.” Academic associations failed to unequivocally oppose scholasticide in Gaza, pontificating about whether or not it is “outside their scope.” All of these failures emboldened Zionists even further, crystallizing what people in the movement have known all along: Academic institutions collaborate with the United States and the police, who serve state interests.

In the aftermath of the student intifada, repression intensified. Recently uncovered documents show that Columbia trustees spent over half a million dollars to bribe Zionist students to push for a mask ban and the further militarization of campus under the guise of a “Student Leadership Engagement Initiative.” Now the full force of U.S. Immigration enforcement, in conjunction with a foreign nation and vicious nonstate actors, has been brought to bear against those who stand against genocide.

But this is not a time to be afraid. This is a time to step up, speak out, to push ourselves to do more — to act together, and to never cower. Refusal to Zionism and genocide must continue. Resistance without qualification is the only way forward. We will not stop.

Was this email forwarded to you? Sign up to receive it here.
Make the university dysfunctional

At 12pm on Tuesday, March 11th, National Students for Justice in Palestine calls on the widest swath of organizations, formations, and individuals to walk out of class, take over central space on campus, and assert our mass power.

Our message to every university in this country is clear: succumbing to federal pressure by repressing your students will not save you. The state views intellectual and academic freedom as an existential threat to the ruling class and their political structure. Columbia University may be the testing ground for these repressive methods, but rest assured, they will be deployed against every college and university if there is no unified resistance from the campus community.

Endorse the full statement here

 

Basho (senryu)

 

Basho
tá seisean leis
imithe as radharc

Basho
he too
has disappeared

Basho
și el
a dispărut

Leagan Rómáinise: Olimpia Iacob

Basho

 

    gach uair a shéideann an ghaoth
    tuirlingíonn an féileacán arís
    ar an tsaileach

                          Irish version: Gabriel Rosenstock

   ilka tyme the wunds blaws
  the butterie hunkers agane
  on the sauch

                     Scots version: John McDonald

A Kick in the Face/ Speach sa Phus

 

By White House, Public Domain,
Oifig Ubhchruthach, 2017

 A Kick in the Face

 Why don't you wear a suit? Zelensky was asked.
(Why didn't he wear a MAGA cap for that matter?)
Tell me, why should anyone wear a suit
look like everyone else
think like everyone else
speak like everyone else?
Unknown to themselves, more than likely,
WASPS in the Oval Office–how it shines, like an eagle's egg–
 were all following the fashion
of an English influencer–Beau Brummell.
Yup!
 
What, by the way,
did Beau Brummell's horse think of the suit and its wearer?
The horse kicked him in the face!
 

 Speach sa Phus

 Cén fáth nach culaith atá ort? Ceist a cuireadh ar Zelensky.
(Cén fáth nach caipín MAGA a bhí air, dá ndéarfainn é?)
Abair, cén fáth a gcaithfeadh éinne culaith:
chun go bhféachfadh sé ar nós cách
smaoineamh ar nós cách
labhairt ar nós cách?
Bhí faisean an tionchaire Shasanaigh Beau Brummell
á leanúint ag na WASPanna san Oifig Ubhchruthach
(a lonraíonn ar nós ubh iolair)
gan fhios dóibh féin, is cinnte.
Dáiríre!
 
Cad a shíl capall Beau Brummell den chulaith agus dá caiteoir
dála an scéil?
Speach sa phus a thug sé dó!

Santoka

 

leis féin go ciúin
an péacán bambú
ag iompú ina bhambú

Irish version: Gabriel Rosenstock

Alane, quately  -
the bamboo spirl
turns tae a bamboo

Scots version: John McDonald

solitario, silencioso
el rebrote de la caña
se convierte en bambú

Spanish version: Patricia Jiménez

Chiyo-ni

 

abhainn ag rith
agus os a cionn an tsnáthaid mhór
sa tóir ar a scáil

Irish version: Gabriel Rosenstock

ower the fleetin watter
jinkin efter'ts sheddae
the deil's darnin needle

Scots version: John McDonald

sobre la corriente de agua
persiguiendo su sombra
la libélula

Spanish version: Patricia Jiménez

Maga

 

United States Information Agency

'D'fhéach mé, agus b'shiúd an t‑each báiteach bán agus “An Bás” a ba ainm don mharcach a bhí air, agus lean Ifreann é; agus tugadh dóibh cumhacht ar an gceathrú cuid den domhan ... '

Apacailipsis (Taispeántadh) 6:8.

 
Ag marcaíocht ar each liathghlas atá sé
Agus comhlíonfar an Scrioptúr
Agus déanfaidh sé Meiriceá mór arís
Chun go gcomhlíonfaí an Scrioptúr
Agus tá trup na gcrúb ag teacht níos gaire dúinn
Á rá go gcomhlíonfar an Scrioptúr
É ag marcaíocht ar each glas–
Agus comhlíontar gach siolla den Scrioptúr

'And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth,... '

 

Revelation 6:8

He rides a pale horse
And Scripture will be fulfilled
And he will make America great again
So that Scripture may be fulfilled
And the clip-clop of his horse’s hooves draws near
Saying Scripture will be fulfilled
A pale horse he rides –
And every syllable of Scripture is fulfilled

'Un ekj kjikjt, un sach een Pieet blaus aus een Dooden. Un dee doabowen saut, heet Doot, un daut Doodenrikj kjeem am hinjaraun. Un am wort Krauft jejäft daut vieede Poat opp de Ieed ....'

Openboarunk 6:8

He ridd en fahl Perd,
Un de Schriften ward wohr warrn.
Un he wüllt Amerika groot maken,
Dat de Schriften wohr warrn mööt.
Un dat Klappern vun sien Perds Hööv kümmt näher,
Seggt: De Schriften wüllt wohr maakt warrn.
En bleek Perd ridd he –
Un elkeen Sülv vun de Schriften wüllt wohr warrn.

Leander Sukov (Martin Timm) a chuir Gearmáinis Íochtarach air

'Et je vis paraître un cheval de couleur pâle. Celui qui le montait se nommait la Mort, et l'Enfer le suivait. On leur donna pouvoir sur la quatrième partie de la terre, ....'

Apocalypse 6:8

Il monte un cheval pâle
et les Ecritures s’accompliront
Et il rendra à nouveau l’Amérique forte
Afin que s’accomplissent les Ecritures
Et le claquement des sabots du cheval s’approche
disant que les Ecritures s’accompliront
Il monte un cheval pâle -
Et chaque syllabe des Ecritures s’accomplit.

(Fraincis:  Francis Combes)

Teachtaireacht ó fhilí na Graonlainne

No, thank you Mr. Trump.

Like David against Goliath, we will fight against Trump's imperialism.
The world was small when I was a child in Uummannaq.
We heard about the outside world through the squeaky little radio.
One day it was said that the Americans were going to build a huge military facility up north.
There was also something about them wanting to build a nuclear power plant under the ice cap in the north.
We were fascinated - to think that in our country a city could be built under the ice cap, powered by a nuclear power plant, and build huge radar systems that can spot the slightest movement we make far away from there.
All this would happen in the far north, in a place that has the same name as my city.
Our neighbor, old Qaarut, is from there up north.
White-faced, she comes in to our home with terrible news:
- Her family and fellow residents of the old town have been forced to move from their homes and land.
- She explained that the people of the other Uummannaq had been asked to move from their homeland in three days.
- In three days, they must pack all their belongings, leave their houses and homes.
- the land their ancestors had chosen as the best hunting ground in the area.
- No discussion, no debate. In three days, you must be out of here, was the order.
- By dogsled, entire families had to travel across fjord ice, boulders and ice caps to the place American soldiers had chosen for them to settle.
- Inughuit is the name of the people who were forced to move.
- In the cold of winter, they had to live in tents for many, many days. There were no houses ready for them to move into.
-           
- It was a sad day for old Qaarut and for us that the Inughuit were forced to leave their homes and land to make way for the Americans.
Later, several years later, there was another terrible story.
- In the dark of winter, a huge flash of light had appeared in the sky.
- It was a giant airplane, a B52-series, with nuclear bombs on board, had crashed on the ice off Inughuit’ s new settlement.
- People in need must be helped. Inughuit on dog sleds were the first to arrive to help those in need.
- Only radioactive contamination on their hunting grounds was given thanks to their help.
- The nuclear power plant town under the inland ice was abandoned.
- Only radioactive contamination was left under the ice.
- The ice is melting - what can we do?

- I was a child when I first heard the word democracy.
- I was told by my mum that it means the right of self-determination of the people.
- That as part of the Kingdom we now have equal rights and democracy in our country.
- Was I naive when I asked myself as a child: Where was the Inughuit right of self-determination on the day of destiny when the US and Denmark agreed to build the large radar facilities on Inughuit settlements?
- Time heals all wounds, they say.
- But does it really?
- It is rumored that the great new chief of the states - also known as the most powerful man in the world wants full control over Inughuit, Kalaallit and Iivit - the people who live in Kalaallit Nunaat.
- Why? So that America can become even bigger, even richer and even more powerful.
- I was a child when I heard about the doings of the Americans in Inughuit land.
- I am now an old man and hear the ‘Great Chief’ of America puffing himself up to gain control of - not only our country - but the whole world.
- At first, I am puzzled and uncertain - what does he mean?
- Then I got angry. He'll be damned if he's going to get Greenland incorporated into the US.
- Like David, we will fight Goliath - and form a united front against Trump's imperialism.

JUAAKA LYBERTH

Greenland in a united front against Trump's imperialism.
The worst threat to Greenland's independence does not come from Denmark.
The threat comes from the US and Trump's imperialism.
I am not against the American people, but I am against Trump's imperialism.
Therefore, I believe that Greenland shall create a common front against Trump's aggressive positions.
The US already has military facilities in Greenland, which they can expand or build new ones. They also already have opportunities to invest in mining.
Trump's ideas are therefore purely imperialistic.
Let's all stand together against that imperialism.

*** ***

No, thank you Mr. Trump.
Vi vil som David kæmpe mod Trumps imperialisme.
Verden var lille da jeg var barn i Uummannaq.
Om verden udenfor hørte vi gennem den lille knirkende radio.
En dag blev det sagt at amerikanerne skulle bygge et kæmpe militær anlæg nordpå
Der var også noget med at de vil anlægge et atomkraftværk ind under indlandsisen, der nordpå.
Fascinationen var stor hos os – tænk at der i vores land kan blive bygget en by under indlandsisen drivet af atomkraftværk, og bygge kæmpe radaranlæg, som kan få øje på de mindste bevægelser vi laver langt væk derfra.
Al det skulle ske langt nord på, i et sted som har samme navn som min by.
Vores nabo, gamle Qaarut, stammer derfra.
Hvid i ansigtet kommer hun ind med skrækkelig nyhed:
    • Hendes familie og gamle bys fæller er blevet tvunget til at flytte fra deres hjem og land
    • Hun fortalte, at befolkningen i den anden Uummannaq var blevet bedt om at flytte fra deres hjemland om tre dage.
    • i løbet af tre dage skal de pakke al deres ting, forlade deres huse og hjem.
    • det land deres forfædre havde valgt som det bedste fangststed i området.
    • ingen diskussion, ingen debat. Om tre dage skal I være væk herfra, var ordren.
    • med hundeslæde skulle hele familier køre hen over fjord is, fjeldknolde og indlandsis til det sted, amerikanske soldater har valgt at de skal bosætte sig i.
    • Inughuit hedder de mennesker, der blev tvunget til at flytte.
    • I vinterkulden skulle de bo i telte i mange mange dage. Der var ingen huse klar de kan flytte ind til.
    •    
    • Det var sorgens dag for gamle Qaarut og for os, at Inughuit blev tvunget til at forlade deres hjem og land for at give amerikanerne plads.

Senere, flere år senere, kom endnu en skrækkelig historie.
    • I vinterens mærke var et kæmpe lysglimt var der kommet på himlen.
    • Det var en kæmpe flyvemaskine, en B52-ser, med atombomber om bord, var faldet ned på isen ud for Inughuit nye bosted.
    • Mennesker i nød skal hjælpes. Inughuit på hundeslæde var de første, der kom for at hjælpe de nødstedte.
    • Kun radioaktiv forurening på deres fangst områder fik de som tak for deres hjælp.
    •
    • Atomkraftværk byen under indland isen blev forladt.
    • Kun radioaktiv forurening blev efterladt under isen.
    • Isen smelter – hvad kan vi gøre?
    • Jeg var et barn, da jeg første gang hørte om ordet demokrati
    • Jeg fik af min mor fortalt, at det betyder folkets selvbestemmelses ret.
    • At vi som del af Kongeriget nu er lige berettige og har demokrati i vores land.
    • Var jeg naiv da jeg som barn spurgte mig selv: Hvor var Inughuits selvbestemmelses ret på skæbnen dag, da USA og Danmark blev enige om at bygge de store radaranlæg på Inughuit bosteder?

    • Tiden læger alle sorg, siger man.
    • Men gør det også det?
    • Det forlyder, at den store nye høvding – som også kaldes verdens mægtigste mand
Vil have fuld kontrol over Inughuit, Kalaallit og Iivit – de mennesker, der bor i Kalaallit Nunaat.
    • Hvorfor? For at amerika kan blive endnu større, endnu rigere og endnu mere magtfuld.
    • Jeg var barn, da jeg hørte om amerikanernes laden og gøren i Inughuit land.
    • Jeg er nu en gammel mand og hører “Den Store Høvding” i amerika puste sig op for at få kontrol med – ikke alene med vores land – men med hele verden.
    • Jeg bliver først forundret og usikker – hvad mener han?
    • Så blev jeg vred. Gu skal han ej få Grønland indlemmet i USA.
    • Vi vil som David kæmpe mod Goliat – og danne fællesfront mod Trumps imperialisme



Greenland in a united front against Trump's imperialism.
The worst threat to Greenland's independence does not come from Denmark.
The threat comes from the US and Trump's imperialism.
I am not against the American people, but I am against Trump's imperialism.
Therefore, I believe that Greenland shall create a common front against Trump's aggressive positions.
The US already has military facilities in Greenland, which they can expand or build new ones. They also already have opportunities to invest in mining.
Trump's ideas are therefore purely imperialistic.
Let's all stand together against that imperialism.

*** ***
Kalaallit Nunaat ataatsimoortoq Trump-imut naaggaarpoq.
Trump nunasiaateqarniarnersuanut akersuuteqatigiittariaqarpugut.
Nunatta nammineq naalagaaffinngornissaanut ajoqusiisussaq anneq Danmarkimeersuunngilaq.
USA-meerpoq Trumpillu nunasiaateqarusunnersuaniilluni.
Amerikami inuiaat akerlerinngillakka, Trumpilli nunasiaateqarniarnersua naaggaarapara.
Taamaattumik isumaqarpunga Kalaallit Nunaat ataatsimoortoq Trump-ip nunasiaateqarusunnersuanut naaggaarluinnassasoq.
USA nunatsinni sakkutoqarfeqareerpoq, allanik ilanissaanut periarfissaqareerluni.
Aatsitassarsiorusukkunik aningaasaliinissaminnut periarfissaqareerput.
Trumpip oqaasi nunatsinnik tiguaaniarnermik siunertaqarneq.
Ataatsimoorluta unitseqisigu.

Haiku le Wendy Cope

 Thit na duilleoga
agus thit an sneachta is
mo chuid gruaige ar ball

the leaves have fallen
and the snow has fallen and
soon my hair also

Fís Uncail Toby

Garda Pharthais
Franz von Stuck

 

 

 'Nuair a dhúnaimse mo shúile,' arsa Toby,
'Bíonn claíomh geal bladhmach i mo lámh
Agus samhlaímse ar feadh nóiméid
Gur mise an tArdaingeal Mícheál.

Is é mo ghnósa Gairdín Éidin
A chosaint ó lá go lá:
Ní jab é sin do gach éinne
Ach domsa féin amháin!' 

-----------
Péintéir Gearmánach ab ea Franz von Stuck (23 Feabhra 1863 - 30 Lúnasa 1928).
Déantóir priontaí, dealbhóir, greanadóir agus ailtire ab ea é chomh maith.

Uafásach! Is beag nach ligim liú!

Cole san Eoraip le linn
an Dara Cogadh Domhanda.
Comhaireamh na marbh ar an dá thaobh
a bhí mar chúram ar fhear
na véarsaí éadroma.

Agus é ag aistriú dánta do pháistí dá bhlag, tháinig Gabriel Rosenstock ar dhán le William Cole (Liam Mac Cóil), fear a chleacht véarsaíocht éadrom agus a chuir scata díolamaí i dtoll a chéile.

Ní raibh a fhios ag Gabriel go dtí gur thosnaigh sé ag léamh mar gheall air, gurbh é an Fínín Diarmaid Ó Donnabháin Rossa seanathair William Cole.

Uafásach! Is beag nach ligim liú!

après William Cole

Uafásach! Is beag nach ligim liú
Nuair a thagaim ar phéist istigh i m'úll!
Ní hin is measa, ní hea, ní hea
Ach teacht ar phéist ann ina dhá leath!

It's such a shock, I almost screech

BY WILLIAM COLE

It's such a shock, I almost screech,
When I find a worm inside my peach!
But then, what really makes me blue,
Is to find a worm who's bit in two!

Gallchnó Á Rolladh ag an gCat

HAIKU BREÁTHA ÓN tSEAPÁIN

torigoe ka kuchibue ka kaze hikarikeri

giolc éin
nó duine ag feadaíl?
lonraíonn an ghaoth

Chikako Yoshida

tampopo no wata o tatashimeōno haka

síolta an chaisearbháin
ag eitilt uaidh
tuama an rí

Hiroko Kudo

amadare to iu akatoki no haru no oto

braonta báistí
fuaim na camhaoire
san earrach  

Shu Mayuzumi (1930-2020)

kekkai no ishidan noboru haru no shika

ceantar beannaithe
fianna earraigh
ag dreapadh na gcéimeanna cloch

Miwako Fujimoto

tobeba kie tomareba hikari hachi no hane

imíonn siad as san aer
lonraíonn nuair a ghlacann scíth
sciatháin na mbeach

Keishu Ogawa

kage oite mizu shizukanaru sakura kana

leagann a scáil
ar dhromchla an uisce chiúin
crann silíní faoi bhláth

Shugetsu Ishihara

oki hikari fune hikari kaze hikarikeri

lonraíonn an fharraige mhór
lonraíonn longa
lonraíonn an ghaoth

Yuki Horimoto

yorokobi o tsutsumu katachi ni chūrippu

lúcháir
rapáilte acu
tiúilipí

Eiko Nagashima

troisc thriomaithe
ar comhfhad
ar crochadh faoin ngrian

Kgga Hosokawa (1924-1989)

kasha nagashi haru no mikazuki hikaridasu

traein lastais fhada
corrán gealaí an earraigh
ag lonrú

Hakyo Ishida (1913 – 1969)

fukakai na koto mata hitotsu haru no yoru

mistéir
arís . . .
oíche earraigh

Nahoko Sakagami

haru ga kite higure ga sukini narinikeri

tá an t-earrach tagtha
mé ag éirí ceanúil
ar an gcontráth

ShūMayuzumi (1930-2020)

musasabi ya ōkiku narishi yoru no yama

iora eitilte−
sliabh faoi bhrat na hoíche
ag éirí níos mó

Toshio Mitsuhashi (1920 – 2001)

haha to ko no toranpu kitsune naku yo nari

máthair agus leanbh
ag imirt cártaí istoíche
tafann sionnaigh

Takako Hashimoto (1899-1963)

kan-tamago teikoku hoteru shefu ga waru

ubh gheimhridh
á briseadh ag cócaire
san Óstán Impiriúil

Akitoshi Moriya

fuyu-chō ni sora no aosa no omotakari

féileacán geimhridh
luíonn gorm na spéire
go trom air

Eiko Nagashima

uruki yoki koro no iro shite fuyu-sumire

dath
na seanlaethanta orthu
sailchuacha geimhridh

Ryuta Iida (1920 -2007)

furimukeba hoshi fueteiru kareki-michi

féachaim siar
líon na réaltaí ag dul i méid
sráid na gcrann feoite

Yuka Shimada

niwatori no shita no mijikaki shigure kana

sicín
agus teanga ghearr aici
mionfhearthainn gheimhridh

Haruya Yamaguchi

mizu nonde kokoku no samusa hirogarinu

ag ól uisce
fuaire cheantar na lochanna
ag leathnú ionam

Sumio Mori (1919 -2010)

fuyu no bara gyūnyū yorimo shizuka naru

rósanna geimhridh
is ciúine ná bainne
iad

Yukiko Endo

fukurō no mori ga gekka ni fukuraminu

foraois na n-ulchabhán
ag at
faoin ngealach

Etsuko Ohishi

hi ga hanare kokoro hanaruru fuyu no chō

an ghrian á thréigean
a anam á thréigean
féileacán geimhridh

Eriko Tsugawa

sayuru yo no remon o hitotsu futokoro ni

oíche fhuar
líomóid
i mo phóca brollaigh

Yuji Kinoshita (1914 -1965)

tōrei no mado shiro-neko wa hakkōsu

lá breá sa gheimhreadh
lonraíonn cat bán
ar leac na fuinneoige

Minako Tsuji

samukute samukute hoshi no mukō ni iru gotoshi

fuar feannaideach
braithim go bhfuilim imithe
lastall de na réaltaí

Ayuta Watanabe

temoto made yami no kiteiru fuyu-akane

an dorchadas ag druidim liom
fuineadh gréine
sa gheimhreadh

Machiko Hirose

tomodachi no inai ningyō fuyu-sumire

bábóg
gan aon chairde aici
sailchuach gheimhridh

Yayoi Miyake

hakuchō no chakusui koko no kyori tamochi

tuirlingíonn ealaí ar an uisce
iad ag coinneáil siar
óna chéile

Mai Nishimiya

rittō ya isu hitotsu aru furuhonya

tús an gheimhridh–
siopa leabhar athláimhe
cathaoir amháin istigh ann

Yukari Saisho

ichijiku ni ame no nioi no nokoriori

pomagránait
boladh báistí
uaithi 

Yumiko Katayama

kōmori no tobikaeritaru tsuki no naka

sciathán leathair
eitlíonn agus taispeánann a bholg
don ghealach

Shuson Kato (1905-1993)

hoshi tonde daremoga sukoshi oiteyuku

réaltareatha
gach éinne ag éirí
beagáinín níos sine

Jin Shionoya

kabutomushi chikyū o sokonawazuni aruku

ciaróg ag siúl
gan dochar á dhéanamh aici
don talamh

Kiyoko Uda

hotaru niwa hotaru no jikan arinikeri

tá
am lampróige ann
don lampróg

Tazuko Shibata

mi no naka no makkuragari no hotaru-gari

dorchadas iomlán
istigh ionam . . .
ag seilg lampróg

Biwao Kawahara

hiyakusho no funsui goji ni tomarikeri

scairdeán
halla an bhaile
stopann sé ar a cúig a chlog

Minu Kashiwabara

kaze o yomu soburi mo arite katatsumuri

cheapfá uaireanta
go raibh an ghaoth á léamh aige
seilide

Tomita Onda

shibaraku kikeri neko ga korobasu kurumi no ne

d’éisteas tamall
leis an bhfuaim–
gallchnó á rolladh ag an gcat   

Hakyo Ishida (1913 -1969)

Amhrán na Máthar

Dán Ionúiteach a bhailigh Knud Rasmussen

Nach ciúin atá an tigh.
Tá séimhe anseo sa tigh.
Scread chráite ón stoirm shneachta amuigh ansin,
agus na madraí cuachta suas, soc faoin eireaball.
Tá mo bhuachaillínse ina chodladh,
ina luí ar a dhroim, a bhéal ar leathadh, ag análú.
Nach cruinn atá a bhoilgín -
cá hionadh má tá mo ghruanna tais le deora áthais!

Dorn Haiku ón tSeapáin

 sabishii zo nawatobi no chi o utsu oto wa

nach uaigneach!
fuaim rópa scipeála
nuair a bhuaileann an talamh                                             

Etsuko Ohishi

adayoeru tebukuro no aru unga kana

lámhainn ar snámh
san uisce . . .
an chanáil                   

Sujū Takano (1893-1976)

fuyu no hama ho o tome kazou nami no kazu

trá sa gheimhreadh
stopaimse
chun tonnta a chomhaireamh

Bōkōshi Ogawa   

hotto ii mirin o katte fuyuyasumi

cheannaíos saké
níos costasaí ná mar is gnách            
saoire gheimhridh           

Maiko Goto       

kareha no tame kotori no tame ni ishi no isu

do dhuilleoga feoite
d'éiníní
cathaoir chloch

Sanki Saito (1900 -1962)

shiranu ma ni fuyu no kingyo to narinikeri

n'fheadar conas a tharla sé
iompaímse
i m'iasc órga geimhridh     

    Noriyo Endo

kaze no ko no katae ni neko mo nemuri keri

slaghdán ar an leanbh -
in aice leis
cat ina chodladh chomh maith           

Katsura Kishida

gekkō o matsuge ni keito andeiru

solas na gealaí
ar a cuid fabhraí
is í ag cniotáil

Atsuko Sakanishi

shōō no medeshi kogai ya hama no aki

na mionsliogáin
a thaitin go mór le Bashō –
trá san fhómhar

Fukin Endo

tabitatan ironaki kaze no kuru hō e

imeoidh mé
sa treo as a dtagann
an ghaoth gan dath

Takehiko Tanioka

furusato no hatarakimono no kakashitachi

mo bhaile dúchais
na fir bhréige
ag obair go dian

Koh Yaguchi

meigetsu ya hanarebanare ni fune to kai

gealach lán−
scartha óna chéile
bád agus maidí rámha

Gogyo Akatsuka

matsu wakete kitaru hikari wa aki no umi

solas ag teacht
trí ghéaga giúise
muir san fhómhar

Atsuko Sakanishi

kaminari kuru to tokage no nodo furueori

toirneach
scornach na laghairte
ar crith

Yukiko Kai

atsuki hi o oeru ni yūkaze to bahha

clabhsúr ar lá brothallach
leoithne an tráthnóna
agus Bach

Kyoko Uchimura

setsumei no tsukanu sabishisa higasa sasu

uaigneas
nach féidir a mhíniú
osclaím scáth gréine

Yukiko Endo

 

mizuumi ni akari sabishiki hanabi kana

soilse uaigneacha
na dtinte ealaíne
ar an loch . . .

Yoko Yamamoto

hiki wa hiki hito wa hito kou yo narikeri

buaf ag tnúth le buaf
duine ag tnúth le duine
is oíche mar sin í

Minoru Ozawa

bara no sono hikikaesaneba deguchi nashi

gairdín rósanna
ní féidir dul amach as
gan casadh timpeall

Kiyoko Tsuda (1920-2015)

shirasagi no mirumiru kage o hanarekeri

corr réisc bhán
nach gasta mar a éalaíonn
óna scáil

Keishu Ogawa

DÁN FRÍOTHA / Walt Whitman (Found Poem in Collected Prose)

 THE WHITE HOUSE

Walt Whitman
le Thomas Wilmer Dewing

 

(A found poem, extracted from the prose by Walt Whitman)

I wander about a good deal,
sometimes at night under the moon.
Tonight took a long look at the President's house.
The white portico —
the palace-like, tall, round columns,
spotless as snow
 — the walls also —
the tender and soft moonlight,
flooding the pale marble,
and making peculiar faint languishing shades,
not shadows —
everywhere a soft transparent hazy,
thin, blue moon-lace, hanging in the air —
the brilliant and extra-plentiful clusters of gas,
on and around the facade, columns, portico,
 — everything so white, so marbly pure
 and dazzling, yet soft
 — the White House of future poems,
and of dreams and dramas,
there in the soft and copious moon —
the gorgeous front,
in the trees, under the lustrous flooding moon,
full of reality, full of Illusion —
the forms of the trees, leafless, silent,
in trunk and myriad angles of branches,
under the stars and sky —
the White House of the land,
and of beauty and night —
sentries at the gates, and by the portico,
silent, pacing there in blue overcoats —
stopping you not at all,
out eyeing you with sharp eyes,
whichever way you move.

Photo-Senryu

 

smachtíní

comhéirí lag

ár gceannairí

police batons

collective semi-erection

of our rulers

Ag teacht .... / Forthcoming

 

Cover of Greek edition of Gabriel's haiku sequence Is Mé Ióna /I am Jonah.

Greek transcreation by Sarah Thilykou.

Hakuin

 

    Dá gcloisfeá
    fuaim an tsneachta
    ag titim déanach istoíche
    de chrainn
    an tseanteampaill


    


Από τα δέντρα

αν άκουγες μονάχα
του αρχαίου ναού
       το άκουσμα του χιονιού
       να πέφτει αργά τη νύχτα

Leagan Gréigise: Sarah Thilykou

Misty Venice

 

Íomha: Ron Rosenstock

amach as an gceo
isteach sa cheo
amhrán an ghondalóra

out of the mist
into the mist
gondolier's song

Micropoems for Kids

 Micropoems
 

Age 10-13 years, Age years 13+, 

Another wonderful collection of poems for children and young adults by Gabriel Rosenstock. This inspiring set of short and very short poems or “micropoems” are set to beautiful public domain artwork.

 

 Download free PDF from: https://freekidsbooks.org/micropoems/#_

Un espoir à saisir / Dóchas Dara Láimhe

Un espoir à saisir

Il n’y a, paraît-il
Plus d’espoir en soldes
dans les rayons du supermarché.
(L’article a connu
dans le passé un certain succès,
mais sa production en série
a été arrêtée).
Vous pourrez cependant
peut-être en  trouver un
dans une vente de solidarité
ou un stand de plein air
sur le parcours d’un défilé,
un espoir tout neuf
qui n’a jamais servi
un peu court aux manches
ou même un de seconde main
une occasion à saisir
élimé au col
mais il peut encore servir.
Mettez-le sur votre dos et vous verrez :
vite, il va reprendre forme.

(31/XII/2024)
Francis Combes

Dóchas dara láimhe

Níl dóchas ar díol
a thuilleadh
ar sheilfeanna ollmhargaí.
(Bhí éileamh cuibheasach maith
ar an earra
ach cuireadh deireadh lena olltáirgeadh).
Mar sin féin, seans go dtiocfá air
i siopa carthanais
nó ar stalla éigin
ar do shlí chuig agóid,
dóchas úrnua
nár caitheadh riamh
na muinchillí pas beag róghearr,
nó ceann dara láimhe
margadh maith
an bóna ábhairín caite
ach d'fhéadfá é a úsáid mar sin féin.
Cuir ort é go bhfeicfidh tú:
agus a bhunchruth ag teacht air de réir a chéile.

Irish transcreation: Gabriel Rosenstock

A second-hand hope

There is no more
hope on sale
in the supermarket stalls.
(The item was
pretty successful,
but its mass production was stopped).
However, you will
probably find one
at a charity sale
or an outdoor stand
on the route of a demo,
a brand new hope
that was never worn
whose sleeves are a little short
or even a second hand one
a good bargain
the collar is a bit worn
but you can still use it.
Try it on and you will see:
it will soon take its original shape.

(Eng. Translation : Alexis Bernaut)

Time To Clean out the Whole Thing, says Trump

Eugène Alexis Girardet, The Flight Into Egypt (1883)

 

 Time To Clean Out the Whole Thing

 
Time to clean out Gaza!
Let Jordan take in the survivors
And Egypt.
Get a move on!
You're holding everybody up!
Remove the rubble and what lies beneath.
We're going to build something wonderful here
The world has never seen anything like it!
Can those goddam donkeys move any faster?
 
We're going to build something unbelievable!
 

 
Tá Sé In Am an Rud ar Fad a Ghlanadh Amach

 
Tá sé in am Gaza a ghlanadh amach!
Tógadh an Iordáin na maranthóirí
Agus an Éigipt.
Brostaígí!
Tá sibh ag cur moille ar gach éinne!
Glanaigí an smionagar go léir agus a bhfuil thíos faoi.
Táimid chun rud éigin iontach a thógáil anseo.
Níl a leithéid feicthe ag an domhan fós.
Nach bhfuil na hasail dhamanta sin in ann bogadh níos gasta?
 
Táimid chun rud éigin dochreidte ar fad a thógáil anseo!
 

Gabriel Rosenstock

 Ώρα να καθαρίσουμε το όλο πράγμα

 
Ώρα να καθαρίσουμε τη Γάζα!
Αφήστε την Ιορδανία να πάρει τους επιζώντες
Και την Αίγυπτο.
Προχωρήστε!
Μην περιμένετε!
Αφαιρέστε τα ερείπια κι ό,τι κρύβεται από κάτω.
Εδώ θα φτιάξουμε κάτι υπέροχο
Ο κόσμος δεν θα ’χει ξαναδεί κάτι παρόμοιο!
Μπορούν αυτά τα γαϊδούρια να κινηθούν πιο γρήγορα;
Θα φτιάξουμε κάτι απίστευτο!

Greek version: Dinos Siotis