Auzotarrek-Buorlju-Comharsana-Cymdogion -Nàbaidhean-Veciños @poetryfromsmallerlanguages-blog - Tumblr Blog

Posts

Welcome to this Tumblr in which to find poems written in some of the smaller languages of Europe, in tongues that are so often confined to their native speakers and which rarely receive any kind of attention from the forces which dominate such a great part of the cultural scene in Europe today. There is a wealth of magnificent poetry being written, published and read in the smaller languages of Europe today. From Frisia to the Faroes, from Euskal Herria to Estonia, from Wales to Galicia, poets are still facing the world in the languages of their forefathers. This Tumblr has been created out of a wish to give greater visibility to poets using languages which are often left outside the dominant cultural mapping of literary consumption in Europe today. It is our attention to publish these poems in their original format. We recognize the problems we face with the larger languages – almost without thinking they are often used as the only means of mediation between our diverse tongues – the proof in the pudding, as it were, is the fact that I am writing this introduction in English. We believe that readers will enjoy the sonic – and visual - qualities of the works in the original language, and it is our hope that these poems will encourage readers to participate in translations to and from our small languages. Welsh verse translates wonderfully into Galician, Basque into Frisian, Irish into Catalan and so forth. For this first pilot edition we have ourselves selected poems in a random fashion. For future editions an editorial board will look towards greater cohesion with themed issues which, we hope, will reflect the shifting concerns of the poets of small-language Europe. We would be delighted to hear from anyone who is interested in participating in this challenging but exhilarating project.

David Clark University of A Coruña

#introduction #David Clark #smaller languages #poetry

MARINELEK GOGOA ITSASOAN DUTE BETI Marinelek gogoa itsasoan dute beti, bertze nahirik ez omen. Lehorrean, belak, mesana masta, lema faltan dituzte, mortu hezea.

Lehorrean marinelek dakiten latin murritza nauigare necesse est, uiuere non delakora mugatzen da.

Gu, lehorrekook, hainbertzeko oroiminak, hain saudade mingarriak hunkitzen gaitu eta marinelei buruzko poemak idazteari ekiten diogu.

Guk, lehorrekook, gure lehorrean inola ere ez dakiguna da marinelak, itsasoan bakarka, zeren minak ote dauden, zeren.

Anjel Erro (2002)

A seamens’ minds are always in the sea: Seamen are lost ashore. We, inland people, write about seamens’ live and feelings. But we don´t really know what do they miss.

#Basque poetry #Anjel Erro #Euskal

Sruthadh

Màthair-uisge ‘n Uillt Dheirg Ag èirigh ‘s a’ lìonadh na thuil, A’ sruthadh a-nuas, a’ siubhal gu bras, A’ leum na lì, ri feirg, Agus a’ spreadhadh mar an fhuil Eadar bruthaichean Bhealach nan Cas.

Rody Gorman

Turneresque waterscape in Sleat, Usle of Skye

#Scottisch Gaelic poetry #Rody Gorman #Gaelic

From Memoria de Agosto

Outro poema dos dons

Gracias quero dar Polanoite e a chuvia que nos devolven a memoria da nai. E pola muller que dá forma á beleza. Polo sexo que une nunha soa carne dúas soidades e polo soño que nos permite a viaxe á morte e o regreso. Polo vento que nos fai estraños de nós mesmos e pola pedra que aspira a soñar a eternidade. Gracias quero dar polos nenos que non coñecen nin a culpa nin a morte. E pola música, leve espírito do vento. Pola luz que nos devolve o mar nos ollos da amada e polo aire, vivificante e saudábel. Pola beleza, que nos enche e acovarda, e polo mencer que nos ofrece a ilusión da primeira vez. Gracias pola xuventude e polos sentidos. Polo loureiro e otrigo, pola herba, máis tenaz que o tempo, e pola arte, que nos transcende e sobrevive. Gracias quero dar polos días que compartes comigo, pola caricia e polo beixo. Gracias polo mar, absoluto e poderoso. Gracias polo silencio e polo verso.

Xulio López Valcárcel

Valcárcel’s poem is a secular verse of gratitude, giving thanks for the small, quotidian gifts which make life that bit more bearable. The poet gives thanks for sex, which “unites in one flesh two solitutes” and for the wind “which makes us strangers to ourselves”. He also expresses his gratitude for “the laurel and the wheat” and ends by thanking life for “silence and for verse”.

#Galician poetry #Xulio López Valcárcel #Galego #poesía Galego

Galw’n ôl Mae rhywbeth yn y lle’n Ein galw ’nôl, Mae hud ymhob glaswelltyn Ar y ddôl, Mae’r bwrlwm yn y nentydd Yn ffrydio i lawr y gelltydd I’r dyfnder tawel, llonydd O Fawddwy lawr i’r môr Yn galw, galw ’nôl.

Mae creigiau Aran Fawddwy a Phumlumon Yn gwarchod tir ein mebyd ers cyn co’, Mae dolydd ffrwythlon Dyfi yn ein gwahodd I wreiddio’n ddwfn yn naear hen ein bro.

Mae atsain ein cwmnïaeth ymhob carreg Ac asbri’r ifanc yn cynhyrfu’r gwaed, Ein camau ninnau’n sicir am y gwyddom Mai ni sydd biau’r ddaear dan ein traed.

Mae’r wawr yn torri’n araf dros y dyffryn A miwsig neithiwr lond fy mhen yn stŵr, Mae blas y sgwrs yn hofran ar yr awel A chwerthin ffrindiau’n loetran ar y dŵr.

Mae rhywbeth yn y lle’n Ein galw ’nôl, Mae hud ymhob glaswelltyn Ar y ddôl, Mae’r bwrlwm yn y nentydd Yn ffrydio i lawr y gelltydd I’r dyfnder tawel, llonydd O Fawddwy lawr i’r môr Yn galw, galw ’nôl.

Ann Fychan

A lyric by Ann Fychan, ‘Galw’n ôl’ –Calling back. These are the words of the young Welsh people who leave the valley for various reasons, but there is something about the place that draws them back – the beauty,the culture & the company of kindred spirits.

#Welsh poetry #Ann Fychan #Cymraeg

Cumha na Caillí

Raghainn chugat dá bhféadfainn, mé spíonta le haois, mé cloíte le cumha.

Raghainn chugat dá bhféadfainn.

Is nuair a leagfá loinnir do shúl orm, Thitfeadh clócha an éadóchais díom, Is bhláthfainn.

Áine Moynihan

The Hag or “Cailleach” is a potent figure in Celtic Mythology. We find her in this poem longing to find her lover again. With one look, she says, he would transform her into her younger, beautiful self. She is aware, though, that this can never happen.

#Irish poetry #Áine Moynihan #Gaelic

An animation of the poem 'fallussimmernachten' or in English 'phallus' summer nights' from the collection 'as nomaden yn tinten teplak/als…

A Frisian poem by Sytse Jansma. Animated and subtitled. Frisian text:

Fallussimmernachten

lâns risseljend reid steapelet de sleat oktaven as weagen werheljend de nacht draait himsels yn

in frisling fan roppende frosken it sliepkeamersrút op in kier in simmer fan swit wachtet boppe de

knoop yn ‘e klamboe it pantomime bewegen fan sleatswetter noeget in skoalle reidjuffers om

as djoeiske kabûkidûnsers te sweevjen oerdei stiene de efterliven as obelisken oerein dolkomyske

fallussimmernachten smell like teen spirit dat it broeit as hite cheerleaderstimmen

Sytse Jansma

#Frisian poetry #Sytse Jansma #Frysk

DESPRAZADOS

Resistimos baixo un ceo de vidro o sol que nos abrasa, así como avanzamos os uns e os outros en silencio, na premiosa fuxida que continúa sempre fóra e dentro de nós, homes e mulleres e nenos e sombras de todos unidas entre si, sen sabermos dun destino que poña voz aos nosos rostros, sen sabermos dunha esperanza que anime aínda o noso horizonte, e seguimos a marcha marcados pola mudez que nos habita, unha poeira de cinza no ventre e a fenda da lonxanía dividida nos ollos, sabor así de lámpada negra na casa abandonada e a habitación da dor que se garda perdida para sempre no corpo, a terra que deixamos e o seu rumor xemente no pensamento, porque non podemos respirar no seu recordo e nace en nós, estrañándonos, un ollar que non ve e o tacto cego do baleiro.

A nosa fotografía —dixeron— é un espectro no olvido.

E seguimos no tránsito, deixando atrás a vida, feridos polo sal da luz e o verbo xordo das horas, e sentimos o peso do tempo que envellece, pois somos resto e saldo dunha patria sombriza, dramática renuncia como morte obrigada, este emigrar que espanta, que nos entra nos osos, esta evasión de orfos abismados na ausencia, perdidos no desterro como se nada houbese, individuos borrados no ritual da noticia, cando somos a bágoa que nos queima por dentro, cando somos o centro mutilado en nós mesmos, reptantes pola imaxe da desaparición.

Sobrevivir é un acto de desidia e miseria.

Porque pasan os días repetíndose enteiros no seu aviso estraño, no seu perfil que marca toda a desolación, pois nós estamos aí con toda a nosa sorte contra o mundo, fuxitivos insomnes no corazón vermello da tarde, medindo a lonxitude final do noso asombro, mordendo cada paso no seu tremor que medra cando cruzamos a tebra verde dos campos, unha e outra vez antes da noite, unha e outra vez na pálpebra do frío, e así sempre no laio mudo que nos acompaña, sombras das nosas sombras, convertidos no espasmo negro da civilización.

MIGUEL ANXO FERNÁN VELLO

“Displaced Persons”: a beautiful poem which contains many of the images and concepts often found in Fernán Vello’s poetry – grey dust, the scorching sun, the tear which burns, emigration in both physical and spiritual terms. Survival is “an act of neglect and misery”, and Fernán Vello’s survivors are “sleepless fugitives in the red heart of the sunset” who are no more than “shadows of their own shadows”.

#Galician poetry #Miguel Anxo Fernán Vello #Galego #poesía Galega

Aig Uaigh Dhonnchaidh Bhàin

Na mo sheasamh aig do lic Far a bheil feur a’ fàs Is air cathair air mo mhàs, Gabhaidh mi ri do chomhairle ghlic Is cuimhnichidh mi gu tric Is gu minig air a’ bhàs.

Rody Gorman

About Intimations of mortality on the Royal Mile, Edinburgh.

#Scottish Gaelic poetry #Rody Gorman #Gaelic

ITSASOA EMEA DA

Usaso erdian igerika Nenbilen denbora haietan Eta xahutzen nituen nire Indarrak Uretik ihes egin nahian. Besoak azkarki beherantz botatzean Ia sabel guztia Uretik airera aupatzea lortzen nuen Eta mila bider errepikatu nuen Saialdi zentzugabe hura Eta noski besoak azkartuz joan zitzaizkidan Egunero gorputzaren zentimetro bat gehiago Itsas uretik kanpora aupatzea lortuz

Oraindik hegaldatzearen miraria Zen nire eguneroko ogi gazitua Eta nekatzeaz aspertu edo aspertzeaz nekatu

Nintzen segundu hartan Itsas orroeari Adi jarri nintzaion Eta hau pentsatu nuen: Itsas orroea emazte erraldoi baten Gozamen herabe bainan geldiezinaren Arnas diskretua zela Eta emazte haundi eta ezkutu hori Gu guzion hegaldatze saiakera amaigabeek

Uretik atera eta berriro sartuz Gozaarazten zutela Baina emazte hori delikatua izanik bihotzez Eta gutaz errukituko balitz bezala Bere gozamena ahal den manera ixilenean Jasaten zuela Jakinik ez genuela inoiz hagaldatzea lortuko

Ur Apalategi (1995)

The Sea is a Female: this poem tells that sea is a female, inspired on its sounds while swimming. The sea sounds like a great woman immersed in a discreet but eternal pleasure.

#Basque poetry #Ur Apalategi #Euskal

Leagan Eagraithe

Do DÓB agus GÓB

Is an diúgaire léannta Óna bheol gur shil Na cnapáin órga Crua-chainte A bhailigh sibh I gcróca cluaise Ar saoire dhíbh,

N’fheadar díbhse Féna ghníomha Nó cad a thárla Nuair a chuaigh abhaile Ag deireadh oíche, Ná an saol tré shúile A dhá mhac súd.

Simon Ó Faoláin

Leagan Eagraithe means' edited version'. This poem, set in the Gaeltacht, is about the way in which communities ignore serious flaws and gross negligence in the private lives of those considered to be great 'characters'.

#Irish poetry #Simon Ó Faoláin #Gaelic

Frisian poem by Hidde Boersma about the simple life of a cow.

#Frisian poetry #Frysk #Hidde Boersma

Welsh englyn by Gwilym Fychan

3 examples of a Welsh englyn by Gwilym Fychan – a 4 line, 30 syllable verse in strict metre.

Abercegir Anafwyd fy nghynefin – yr hen gaer Yn gwyro’n y ddrycin, Nid oes ond hanner dwsin Di-ildio yn herio’r hin.

Abercegir O raid rwy’n dal i rodio – yn heddwch Llechweddau fy henfro, Daw clymau cadwynau’r co’ Yn dynnach o hyd yno.

Bwlch Glynmynydd Milltir rhwng gweundir a gwŷdd - a deithiaf, Ond mae’n daith na dderfydd, Mae rhyw ias pan lama’r hydd Yma ar Fwlch Glynmynydd

1) My community has been wounded – the old fort is wavering in the storm. There are only a few of us left to challenge the onslaught

2) I have no choice but to stay in the peace of my birth – the chains in my memories grow ever tighter

3) Describing a mountain road near my home. A mile through moorland and woodland is a neverending journey backto the beginning of time

#Welsh poetry #Gwilym Fychan #Cymraeg

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Auzotarrek-Buorlju-Comharsana-Cymdogion -Nàbaidhean-Veciños