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Loitiméireacht

Loitiméireacht

Deineadh loitiméireacht ar an bhfógra dhátheangach
a sheasann go huaigneach leis féin
agus tú ag teacht isteach i nGleann na nGabhar
Tá an Béarla – Glengower – scriosta
agus níl fágtha ach Gleann na nGabhar.
Daoine atá ag iarraidh Glengower a bhaint amach
tá mearbhall ceart anois orthu
níl a fhios acu ó thalamh an domhain cá bhfuilid
féachann an áit ar nós Glengower
tá na siopaí is na pubanna céanna ann
an séipéal folamh is an reilig lán
an dealbh . . . ach
an féidir a bheith lánchinnte?

Tagann Coiste Forbartha an Bhaile le chéile
agus iad ar fad ag tarraingt na gcos
ní ardaítear an cheist in aon chor
tar éis an tsaoil, cé a dhéanfadh a leithéid?
níl ach fanaiceach teanga amháin ar an mbaile –
an Cathaoirleach – agus tar éis uair an chloig
gan mórán in aon chor a rá
cuirtear an cruinniú ar athlá.

 

Vandalism

The bilingual sign standing so lonely
by itself as you approach Glengower
has been vandalized.
The English – Glengower –has been destroyed
all that’s left is Gleann na nGabhar.
People trying to reach Glengower
don’t know the hell where they are
shops and pubs are still standing
the empty church, the graveyard that’s full,
the statue  . . . yes,  but
can one be perfectly sure?

The Development Committee convenes
all dragging their feet
the question isn’t even brought up
after all, who would perpetrate such an act?
the town boasts only one language fanatic –
the Chairman – and after a full hour
with nothing of any consequence spoken
the meeting is postponed.

Reilig Lán

Fógraíonn an nuachtán áitiúil go bhfuil Reilig Bhaile na nGabhar lán
Tagann Coiste Forbartha an Bhaile le chéile
Aontaíonn gach éinne gur éigeandáil atá ann

‘Cad faoin Reilig Phrotastúnach?’ arsa Leiftí
‘Níl éinne á húsáid níos mó –
Agus tá slí inti do chúpla céad eile ar a laghad!’

Is annamh a ghlactar le moltaí Leiftí
 ní ghlactar leis an moladh seo ach oiread.
‘Cuirigí leis na Protastúnaigh mé,’ arsa Leiftí,
‘is cuma liom sa phoc.’
‘Seachain do theanga! Led’ thoil!’
arsa Bean de Lása-Uí Mhóráin
‘Seachain do chuid fleiscíní tusa!’
arsa Leiftí ar ais léi.

Sos tae.
I ndiaidh an tsosa:

‘Gnó é seo don Chomhairle Contae!
Táimid ag moladh do dhaoine
gan bás a fháil,’ arsa an Cathaoirleach
‘go dtí go réiteofar an ghéarchéim seo’.
Glactar leis an rún d’aon ghuth.

 

Overcrowded Graveyard

The local rag announces that Glengower Graveyard is full.
The Development Committee gets together
all agree it’s an emergency

‘What about the Protestant Cemetery?‘ says Lefty
‘Sure there’s no one usin’ it any more –
room for hundreds in it!’

Lefty’s motions are seldom carried
nor is this one

‘Ye can bury me with the Prods,’ says Lefty
‘I don’t give a flyin’ fiddler’s fuck!

‘Watch your language! Please!’
admonishes Mrs de Lacy-Moran

‘Watch your hyphens! says Lefty back at her.

        Tea break.
                After the break:

‘This is a matter for the County Council!
We’re recommending,’ says the Chairman
‘that people don’t die
until this crisis has been resolved.’
The motion is carried unanimously.

Mugadh Magadh

Mugadh Magadh

Faigheann Coiste Forbartha an Bhaile litir an bealach ar fad ón Ind:
iarratas ar nasc:
Ainm na háite san Ind: Magadh*. Dáiríre!
Ní fhreagrófar an litir ar ndóigh

Faigheann an Coiste tuairim is scór litir mhagaidh
den sórt sin in aghaidh na bliana

Más fíor do na ráflaí
is é an Cathaoirleach féin a scríobhann a leath acu

*Tá áit ann darb ainm Magadh agus é luaite i sraith de dhánta cáiliúla de chuid an fhile Indiaigh Shrikant Verma

Mockery

The Development Committee has received a letter all the way from India:
a request for town twinning
with a place called Magadh*. Honest to God!
Needless to say, the letter goes unanswered.

The Committee gets about twenty such prank letters
on a yearly basis

Rumour has it that the Chairman himself
writes half of them

*Shrikant Verma wrote an illustrious sequence of poems in Hindi about a place called Magadh. In Irish of course, ‘magadh’ means ‘mockery’.

Dealbh

Dealbh

Tá dealbh nua i lár Bhaile na nGabhar
níl a fhios ag éinne cé (nó cad) atá ann
Ag cruinniú éigeandála de Choiste Forbartha an Bhaile
dearbhaítear nach bhfuarthas cead –
nár lorgaíodh cead – chun dealbh ar bith a chur ann

Chosnódh sé an iomarca airgid chun an dealbh a bhaint anuas
cá gcuirfí é?
ghlac Sydney na hAstráile le dealbh de Victoria
nach raibh ag teastáil; b’in scéal eile.

Ní bheadh sé ceart é a scriosadh
‘Ní sinne an tIRA’ arsa an Cathaoirleach
(bualadh bos lag)
‘D’fhéadfaí í a chur,’ ar sé,
‘ach cá bhfios ná go nochtfadh sí arís –
dála Victoria i gColáiste na hOllscoile, Corcaigh.’
‘Nach bhfuil aon náire orthu?’ arsa Leiftí.
‘Cad dúirt tú?’ arsa Bean de Lása-Uí Mhóráin.
Moltar gan faic a dhéanamh
 12 in aghaidh, 2 ar son an rúin

Nuair a bhíonn siad amuigh ag siúl leis an ngadhar
nó ag tiomáint thar bráid
ligeann baill an Choiste orthu féin
nach bhfuil dealbh ar bith ann

Tá sé curtha glan as a n-intinn acu

Uaireanta fiafraíonn strainséirí
‘Cé hé mo dhuine, Fionn Mac Cumhaill, ab ea,
mo dhuine úd sa dealbh?’
‘Cén dealbh?’ an freagra.

Statue

Glengower has a new statue smack in the middle of the town
nobody knows who (or what) it represents
The Development Committee holds an emergency meeting
and it is established that permission was never granted –
or sought – to erect any kind of statue

It would cost too much to dismantle it
where should it go?
Sydney, Australia, embraced an unwanted statue of Victoria
but that was then. This is now.
It would be wrong to blow it up
‘We’re not the IRA’ declares the Chairman
(to faint applause)
‘We could bury it,’ he suggests
‘But it might be exhumed as was a statue of Victoria
in University College Cork.’
‘Have they no shame?’ asks Lefty.
‘What did you say!?’ says Mrs de Lacy-Moran.

He proposes to do nothing
the motion is passed: 12 yeas 2 nays

When out walking the dog
or driving through town
members of the Committee
pretend it doesn’t exist

It has been put out of their minds

Sometimes a stranger might ask:
‘Who’s your man, Finn Mc Cool is it? The statue?’
‘What statue?’ is the standard reply.

Ceo

Ceo

Titeann ceo, ag sileadh go mín ar Ghleann na nGabhar.
Ní fhacadar a leithéid riamh cheana
(ó chuaigh an béaloideas i léig).

Luíonn ar nithe nach bhfuil ann níos mó
caidéal an pharóiste
cnámha linbh
lámhscríbhinní Gaeilge: aistriúchán a dhein

 Seán Bán an Ghleanna ar Virgil

Titeann an ceo ar nithe nach raibh riamh ann
ar an mbaguette a iompraíonn an dealbhóir
 M. Thierry Gillet tríd an mbaile
is nach baguette in aon chor é
ach go meabhraíonn a bhaile dúchais Rennes dó

Measann duine áirithe go bhféadfaí é a ithe.
Blaiseann sí spúnóg den cheo agus í sásta leis.
Foilsíonn cúpla oideas sa pháipéar áitiúil
ceo le mil, le cnónna agus mar sin de.

Duine eile á mheas gur cheart sampla a ghlacadh den cheo
is é a chur go dtí an Rialtas
ar eagla gur bhaol don phobal é.
Nach ón Rialtas a tháinig sé an chéad lá
arsa fear eile.

Níor chuaigh éinne amach ina dhiaidh sin
go dtí gur ghlan an ceo.

Fog

Fog falls, trickling softly on Glengower.
They’ve never seen the likes before
(not since the death of folklore).

It settles on things no longer there
the parish pump
a baby’s bones
Gaelic manuscripts: a version of Virgil
by one Seán Bán an Ghleanna

It falls on things that never existed
on the baguette which the sculptor
M. Thierry Gillet carries through the town
and which is not a baguette at all
but reminds him of home, Rennes

Someone decides this fog can be eaten.
She tastes a teaspoon of it and is content
publishes a few recipes in the local rag
fog with honey, with nuts . . . that sort of thing.

Someone else of a mind to take a sample of said fog
and send it up to the Government
in case it’s any danger to the public.
Another says, wasn’t it the bloody Government that issued it in the first place.

After that, no one ventured out till the fog cleared.