Buson - winter moon

 Buson
(1716 - 1784)

English and Irish version by Gabriel Rosenstock

winter moon --
bowing to a monk
on the bridge

gealach gheimhridh -
ag umhlú do mhanach
ar an droichead


winter muin -
cheek fir jowl
wi a monk on the brig

(Scots: John McDonald)

Thaistil mé i bhfad . . .

Thaistil mé i bhfad  . . .

Thaistil mé i bhfad is mé sa tóir ar Dhia,
ach nuair d’éiríos as fá dheoidh is nuair a chasas ar mo sháil
b’iúd romham É, ionam istigh!

A Lalli,
cén fáth a bhfuil tú ar fán is ar fuaidreamh
ar nós bacaigh?
Cuir cruth éigin ort féin
agus deonóidh Seisean
fís duit De Féin
i bhfoirm aoibhnis
id’ chroí istigh!

I traveled a long way seeking God

Lalla (14ú hAois)

Leagan Béarla le Swami Muktananda

I traveled a long way seeking God,
but when I finally gave up and turned back,
there He was, within me!

O Lalli!
Now why do you wander
like a beggar?
Make some effort,
and He will grant you
a vision of Himself
in the form of bliss
in your heart.


-- from Lalleshwari: Spiritual Poems by a Great Siddha Yogini, Translated by Swami Muktananda             

Ach sa chiúnas sin san aigne

But the silence in the mind

R. S. Thomas (1913 - 2000)

But the silence in the mind
is when we live best, within
listening distance of the silence
we call God. This is the deep
calling to deep of the psalm-
writer, the bottomless ocean.
We launch the armada of
our thoughts on, never arriving.

It is a presence, then,
whose margins are our margins;
that calls us out over our
own fathoms. What to do
but draw a little nearer to
such ubiquity by remaining still?

-- For Lovers of God Everywhere: Poems of the Christian Mystics, Roger Housden

Ach sa chiúnas sin san aigne
is fearr i bhfad sinn, i bhfoisceacht
go mbeannaí Dia dhuit den chiúnas sin
ar a dtugaimid Dia. Is é seo an duibheagán
ag glaoch ar an duibheagán mar do chan Dáiví,
an t-aigéan gan ghrinneall ar a seoltar
loingeas ár gcuid smaointe, gan dul i dtír.

Is láithreacht é mar sin
arb iad a chuid imeall ár n-imill féin;
a ghlaonn amach orainn os cionn
ár bhfeánna. Cad atá le déanamh
ach druidim níos cóngaraí
don uileláithreacht sin trí bheith ciúin

Bit the quate i the mynd

Bit the quate i the mynd's
whan we live it oor brawest, wi'in
hearkenin distance o the quate
we cry The Almichtie. this's the deepths
cryin tae the deepths o the saum-screeder,
the boddomless tide.
We lench the armada o oor thochts on,
nivver tae win at.

It's a presence, then,
whaes mairgins'r oor mairgins;
thit crys us oot ower wir
ain deepths. Whit tae dae
bit coorie narrer tae sic meesterie
bi bidein quate.

John McDonald

as an Shodoka

Right here it is eternally full and serene (from The Shodoka)

le Hsuan Chueh of Yung Chia / Yoka Genkaku (665 - 713)

Leagan Béarla: Robert Aitken

Right here it is eternally full and serene,
If you search elsewhere, you cannot see it.
You cannot grasp it, you cannot reject it;
In the midst of not gaining,
In that condition you gain it.

Díreach anseo is buanlán é agus is maith mar atá!
Cuardaigh in áit eile é agus ní fheicfidh tú é.
Ní féidir breith air ná cur ina choinne;
I lár an neamhghnóthaithe -
Is sa staid sin a ghnóthaítear é.

Friend, this is the only way

Friend, this is the only way

Sachal Sarmast (1739 - 1829)
Leagan Béarla: Ivan M. Granger

Friend, this is the only way
to learn the secret way:

          Ignore the paths of others,
          even the saints' steep trails.

                    Don't follow.
                    Don't journey at all.

Rip the veil from your face.

 -- from The Longing in Between: Sacred Poetry from Around the World (A Poetry Chaikhana Anthology), Edited by Ivan M. Granger

A Chara

A chara, níl ach slí amháin
chun an chonair rúnda a aimsiú:

               Ná bac le conair éinne eile,
                cosán géar na naomh fiú.

                           Ná lean éinne.
                           Ar aistear ná téigh.

Stróic an chaille de d’aghaidh.

Masahide

an scioból
dóite go talamh -
feicim an ghealach anois

Barn's burnt down --
now
I can see the moon.

Masahide (1657? - 1723)
English version by Lucien Stryk and Takashi Ikemoto
from Zen Poetry: Let the Spring Breeze Enter, Translated by Lucien Stryk / Translated by Takashi Ikemoto

Like a silkworm weaving/ Ar nós an tseiriceáin

Like a silkworm weaving

le Akka Mahadevi (12ú hAois)

Leagan Béarla: A. K. Ramanujan

Like a silkworm weaving
her house with love
from her marrow,
                              and dying
in her body's threads
winding tight, round
and round,
                              I burn
desiring what the heart desires.

Cut through, O lord,
my heart's greed,
and show me
your way out,

O lord white as jasmine.

-- from Speaking of Siva, by A K Ramanujan

Ar nós an tseiriceáin

Ar nós an tseiriceáin
is a teach á fhí aici
as a cuid smeara,
        agus í ag éag

i snáitheanna a colainne
fáiscthe go teann, timpeall
is timpeall,

               táim trí thine
ag mianta mo chroí istigh.

A thiarna,
gearr tríd an tsaint atá im chroíse,
léirigh do shlíse
amach,

a thiarna atá chomh geal le seasmain

I have no name (from The Song of Life)

I have no name (from The Song of Life)

Jiddu Krishnamurti (1895 - 1986)

I have no name,
I am as the fresh breeze of the mountains.
I have no shelter;
I am as the wandering waters.
I have no sanctuary, like the dark gods;
Nor am I in the shadow of deep temples.
I have no sacred books;
Nor am I well-seasoned in tradition.
I am not in the incense
Mounting on the high altars,
Nor in the pomp of ceremonies.
I am neither in the graven image,
Nor in the rich chant of a melodious voice.
I am not bound by theories,
Nor corrupted by beliefs.
I am not held in the bondage of religions,
Nor in the pious agony of their priests.
I am not entrapped by philosophies,
Nor held in the power of their sects.
I am neither low nor high,
I am the worshipper and the worshipped.
I am free.
My song is the song of the river
Calling for the open seas,
Wandering, wandering,
I am Life.
I have no name,
I am as the fresh breeze of the mountains.

Níl aon ainm orm

Níl aon ainm orm.
Mar leoithne úr an tsléibhe atáim.
Táimse gan dídean;
Táimse ar nós na n-uiscí ar fán.
Tearmann níl agam, ar nós na ndéithe dorcha;
Níl fáil orm ach chomh beag
I measc scáileanna na mórtheampall.
Leabhair bheannaithe níl agam;
Nílimse ársaithe i dtraidisiúin.
Nílim sa túis ná ar ard-altóir ar bith,
Ná i bpoimp na searmanas.
Nílimse san íomhá ghreanta
Ná i gcantaireacht an ghutha bhinn.
Nílimse laistigh de theoiric ar bith.
Níor mhill aon chreideamh riamh mé.
Níl greim ag reiligiún ar bith orm
Beag beann ar chrá cráifeach na sagart.
Nílimse teanntaithe ag fealsúnachtaí
Is níl tionchar ag a gcuid seicteanna orm.
Nílimse uasal ná íseal.
Is mé an t-adhraitheoir is an té atá á adhradh.
Táim saor.
Laoi na habhann í mo laoise
Ag glaoch ar an bhfarraige.
Ar fán, ar fán.
Is mé an Bheatha.
Níl aon ainm orm.
Mar leoithne úr an tsléibhe atáim.   

-- from From Darkness to Light: Poems and Parables, by J. Krishnamurti

Dice la esperanza

Dice la esperanza

Dice la esperanza: un día
la verás, si bien esperas.
Dice la desesperanza:
sólo tu amargura es ella.
Late, corazón... No todo
se lo ha tragado la tierra.
 

Antonio Machado (1875 - 1939)

Hope says

Hope says: One day
you will see her, if you wait well.
Says despair:
She is only your bitterness.
Beat, my heart... Not all
has been swallowed by the earth.

English version by Ivan M. Granger

Sé deir an Dóchas

Sé deir an dóchas: Lá éigin
feicfidh tú í, bíodh foighne agat.
Sé deir an t-éadóchas:
Níl inti ach do ghoirteamas.
Buail, a chroí . . . Níl an uile ní
slogtha ag an talamh.

an chéad bhrádán san fhómhar

Autumn's first drizzle

Ryokan (1758 - 1831)

Autumn's first drizzle:
How delightful,
The nameless mountain.

English version by John Stevens

an chéad bhrádán san fhómhar
nach aoibhinn –
sliabh gan ainm

Scairdeán mise, tusa an t-uisce

I am a fountain, You are my water

le Zeynep Hatun

(15ú hAois)

I am a fountain, You are my water.
I flow from You to You.

I am an eye, You are my light,
I look from You to You.

You are neither my right nor my left.
You are my foot and my arm as well.

I am a traveler, You are my road.
I go from You to You.

Scairdeán mise, tusa an t-uisce

Scairdeán mise, tusa an t-uisce
Uaitse Chugatsa mo shní.

Súil atá ionamsa, tusa an solas,
Uaitse Chugatsa a fhéachaim.

Ní ar dheis ná ar chlé ataoise.
Is tú mo chos is mo lámh chomh maith.

Taistealaí mise, tusa an ród
Uaitse Chugatsa mo thriall.

Leagan Béarla le Murat Yagan
from Women in Sufism: A Hidden Treasure - Writings and Stories of Mystics Poets, Scholars & Saints, Edited by Camille Adams Helminski

áit is ea grá/ love is a place

áit is ea an grá

áit is ea an grá
& trí áit seo
an ghrá gluaiseann
(le gile na síochána)
gach áit

is domhan é sea
& sa domhan sea
seo maireann
(cuachta go cliste)
gach domhan

love is a place

love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places

yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skillfully curled)
all worlds

from E.E. Cummings: Complete Poems 1904-1962

An Bhanríon Sheabá le Hadewijch

Chuig Solomh tháinig
An Bhanríon Sheabá
D’fhonn gaois a fháil uaidh.
Is nuair a tháinig sí ina lathair go deimhin
Thuirling a chuid iontas uirthi ina shlaoda chomh tobann sin
Gur comhleádh sa mharana í.
            Thug sí do an uile ní ansin,
            Is sa tíolacadh sin
            Deineadh slad ar fad di –
            Frídín ní raibh fágtha
            Dá croí ná dá haigne –
Bádh an uile ní sa ghrá.
                                                                            
   

The Queen of Sheba

le Hadewijch (13ú haois)
Leagan Béarla: Mother Columba Hart

The Queen of Sheba
Came to Solomon;
          That was in order to gain wisdom.
When she had found him, indeed,
His wonders streamed upon her so suddenly
          That she melted in contemplation.
                    She gave him all,
                    And the gift robbed her
          Of everything she had within --
                    In both heart and mind,
                    Nothing remained:
          Everything was engulfed in love.

Chuardaigh mo Chroí do Chumhracht

My heart searched for your fragrance

Sarmad (? - 1659)
Leagan Béarla Isaac A. Ezekiel

My heart searched for your fragrance
    in the breeze moving at dawn,
    my eyes searched for the flower of your face
    in the garden of creation.
Neither could lead me to your abode --
    contemplation alone showed me the way.

Chuardaigh Mo Chroí Do Chumhracht

Chuardaigh mo chroí do chumhracht
    i leoithne a ghluais sa chamhaoir,
    chuardaigh mo shúile bláth do ghnúise
    i ngairdín na cruinne.
Ní thabharfadh ceachtar acu chun d’áitribh mé –
    an rinnfheitheamh amháin a nocht an chonair dom

An mhóimint seo/ This moment

Mevlana Jelaluddin Rumi (1207 - 1273)

Leagan Béarla Coleman Barks

An mhóimint
An GRÁ
tagtha chugam chun scíth a ligean,
an il-bheith in aon-bheith
i ngrán amháin cruithneachta
míle síogán.

Istigh i gcró na snáthaide
oíche réaltógach ag casadh.
An mhóimint seo -
An GRÁ

This moment
This LOVE
comes to rest in me,
many beings in one being
In one wheat-grain
a thousand sheaf stacks.

Inside the needle's eye
a turning night of stars.
This moment --
This LOVE.

You are the forest/Is Tú an fhoraois

Le Akka Mahadevi (12ú Aois)

Is Tú an fhoraois

is Tú na crainn mhóra go léir
san fhoraois

is Tú an t-éan is an t-ainmhí
isteach is amach ag súgradh
i measc na gcrann

a Thiarna atá chomh geal le seasmain
a líonann cách - atá líonta ag cách

cén fáth
nach nochtfá dhom Do ghnúis?

You are the forest

you are all the great trees
in the forest

you are bird and beast
playing in and out
of all the trees

O lord white as jasmine
filling and filled by all

why don't you
show me your face?


English version by A. K. Ramanujan

Neach seo neimhe neamhchoitianta

Neach seo neimhe neamhchoitianta
leis féin, éagsamhalta,
breathnaigh is ní hann dó
tagann is imíonn ach ní trí dhoirse
raghadh isteach in orlach cearnach
leathann i ngach treo
mura nglacann tú leis
buailfidh tú leis gan é a aithint

This rare and heavenly creature

By Han-shan (Cold Mountain) (730? - 850?)
English version by Red Pine

This rare and heavenly creature
alone without peer
look and it’s not there
it comes and goes but not through doors
it fits inside a square-inch
it spreads in all directions
unless you acknowledge it
you’ll meet but never know

Sand Patterns, Thallawbawn, Mayo

Íomhá Ron Rosenstock

Cruthúnas Beo Agus an ghaois á leanúint acu chuir na mistéirí síoraí foirm an daonnaí ar fáil mar chruthúnas beo orthu féin. An fhaid is a bhí an braon gan teacht as an bhfarraige níorbh eol  don aigéan an niamhracht atá istigh ina lár

His Living Proof The eternal mysteries, following wisdom's lead, brought forth the human form as their living proof. As long as the drop hadn't emerged from the sea, the ocean didn't notice the depths of its splendour.

By Abdul-Qader Bedil
(1644 - 1721)

English version by David and Sabrineh Fideler

Is eol dom an fhírinne

Я знаю правду! Все прежние правды — прочь!
Не надо людям с людьми на земле бороться.
Смотрите: вечер, смотрите: уж скоро ночь.
О чем — поэты, любовники, полководцы?

Уж ветер стелется, уже земля в росе,
Уж скоро звездная в небе застынет вьюга,
И под землею скоро уснем мы все,
Кто на земле не давали уснуть друг другу.3 октября 1915

Марина Цветаева (Marina Tsvetaeva 1892 - 1941)

I know the truth -- give up all other truths!
No need for people anywhere on earth to struggle.
Look -- it is evening, look, it is nearly night:
what do you speak of, poets, lovers, generals?

The wind is level now, the earth is wet with dew,
the storm of stars in the sky will turn to quiet.
And soon all of us will sleep under the earth, we
who never let each other sleep above it.

English version by Elaine Feinstein

Is eol dom an fhírinne - lig uait gach fírinne eile!
Ní gá d'éinne ar domhan a bheith ag streachailt.
Féach, tá an tráthnóna ann, féach, an oíche nach mór:
cad tá agaibh á rá, a fhilí, a leannána,  a ghinearála?


An ghaoth leibhéalta anois, an domhan seo tais le drúcht,
síothlóidh stoirm na réaltaí thuas sa spéir.
Is gearr go nglacfaidh cách a scíth faoin gcré
nár thug aon scíth d'éinne os a cionn.

In Aimsir Dhuairc

In aimsir dhuairc sea a thagann radharc don tsúil
is castar orm mo scáil i measc il-scáthanna;
macalla uaim á fhógairt féin sna coillte –
tiarna an dúlra ag caoineadh os comhair an chrainn,
mé beo idir chorr-réisc is dreoilín
ainmhithe na gcnoc is nathracha istigh san uaimh.

Cad is gealtacht ann ach uaisleacht anama
as tiúin lena bhfuil ann? Tá an lá trí thine!
Is eol dom úire an éadóchais úir,
mo scáth tairneáilte le falla an allais.
An áit úd i measc na gcreag, an pluais
nó conair chasta í? Agamsa an faobhar.

Stoirm sheasta na gcomhfhreagairtí!
sníomh na n-ealtan oíche, an ré ina sraoill,
is meán oíche ann arís i lár an lae ghléigil!
Is fada an t-aistear é chun teacht ort féin –
bás an fhéin, oíche fhada gan deoir
gach cruth nádúrtha ina laom thar fóir.

Duairc duairc mo sholas-sa, is duairce fós mo dhúil.
M’anam ina cuil mhire ag teas an tsamhraidh,
fós ag crónán ar leac na fuinneoige. Cén mise é mise?
Neach a thit, seo ag dreapadh as m’eagla mé.
An aigne ag dul isteach inti féin, Dia san aigne,
an t-aon mar Aon, saor, an ghaoth réabtha.

Theodore Roethke In a Dark Time

Leagan Gaeilge: Gabriel Rosenstock