#original translation

[enemy-to-the-state]

funniest actual line in anime

[notshonagon]

A long time ago, what was a man thinking, when he composed this?

A long time ago, what was a man thinking, when he composed this?

Thoughts, better left unsaid for there is truly no one thinking like myself.

[artax-risen]

omg, i was going through your tumblr, and is there any chance you'd share your translation of 'from eden' as gaeilge with us??

Haigh, anon! I can absolutely do that, here you go!

N.B. it should be said that I did this translation in the autumn of 2019, and I don't think it's entirely accurate, especially with the usage of "áille" (beautiful, beauty) as a term of address. Pretty much any time you address someone in Irish you prefix it with "a" (i.e. "a chroí", "a stór", "a thaisce") and I didn't do that here. Also, while "áille" can be a noun it seems most commonly used as an adjective so... yeah. I'm not a fluent gaeilgeoir, much as I wish I was, and there are probably other mistakes I don't notice even now. That being said, I'm not fixing it at this point lol. The translation has problems but I don't know how to fix them while having it work within the rhythm of the song. So here are the lyrics, flaws and all, and I hope they give you some enjoyment.

if anyone wants to build off these lyrics with improvements or use them for a cover, please feel free! though I'd appreciate a brief credit 💖

🐍🍎🌳🍃✨

As Éidin

Áille

Tá rud éigin tragóideach fút

Rud éigin fíor-draíochta fút

An aontaíonn tú?

Áille

Tá rud éigin uaigneach fút

Rud éigin oiriúnach fút

Tar níos gaire dom

Gan tuirseach, gan searbhas,

Gan íoróin

Gan “nach cuma?”, gan stánadh folamh,

Gan am dom

Curfá:

A chroí, d’aithin mé tú, c’súil le scáthán blianta ó shin

Suíonn idéalachas sa phríosún, thit dea-bhéasa ar a chlaíomh

D’éag soineantacht a’ screadadh; cuir do cheist orm, tá a fhíos agam

Shnámh mé ann as Éidin chun a suí taobh amuigh do dhoras

Áille

Tá rud éigin ainnis faoi seo

Rud éigin muirneach faoi seo

Ó, peaca is é

Dul an trá, picnic a dhear

Dom agus duit.

Téad ina lámh do an fear eile 

A crochadh ón crann

Curfá x 2

[theophan-o]

Marina Cvetaeva

***

[love-poem for Sophia Parnok]

Сегодня, часу в восьмом, Стремглав по Большой Лубянке, Как пуля, как снежный ком, Куда-то промчались санки. Уже прозвеневший смех... Я так и застыла взглядом: Волос рыжеватый мех, И кто-то высокий — рядом! Вы были уже с другой, С ней путь открывали санный, С желанной и дорогой, — Сильнее, чем я — желанной. — Oh, je n'en puis plus, j'etouffe — Вы крикнули во весь голос, Размашисто запахнув На ней меховую полость. Мир — весел и вечер лих! Из муфты летят покупки... Так мчались Вы в снежный вихрь, Взор к взору и шубка к шубке. И был жесточайший бунт, И снег осыпался бело. Я около двух секунд — Не более — вслед глядела. И гладила длинный ворс На шубке своей — без гнева. Ваш маленький Кай замерз, О Снежная Королева.

1914

My inaccurate Polish translation:

Dzisiaj, u progu nocy, Po tafli Wielkiej Łubianki, Jak kuli śnieżnej pocisk, Na oślep przemknęły sanki.

Echo radosnych głosów... Schwyciłam nagle spojrzeniem: Blask twoich rudych włosów, Wysoki cień obok ciebie.

Była już Pani z inną, W kulig ruszałyście pewnie, Z drogą i upragnioną – Milszą ci nawet ode mnie.

— Oh, je n'en puis plus, j'etouffe — Na cały głos wykrzyknęłaś I lekko, wśród czułych słów, Futerkiem ją otuliłaś.

Świat wesół był, wieczór – zły! Zakupy chowałam w mufce... Mknęłyście wśród śnieżnej mgły, Twarzą w twarz, szubka przy szubce.

A śnieg, jak moje serce, Krzyczał białymi płatkami. Sekundy dwie – nie więcej – Biegłam spojrzeniem za wami.

Gładziłam puszysty skraj Swojego futra – bez gniewu. Ot, zamarzł twój mały Kaj, Nieczuła Królowo Śniegu.

2012

[violets-inherlap]

sappho, fragment 31

he seems to me equal to gods, that man

who is opposite you, who

sits and listens close

to your sweet speaking

and lovely laughing—oh it

puts the heart in my chest on wings

for when I look at you, even a moment, no speaking

is left in me

and my tongue stiffens into silence; thin

fire is racing underneath my skin;

and no image shapes before my eyes;

my ears are buzzing

and cold sweat pours down me, and shaking

grips my every part; I am greener 

than summer grass, and seem to need little

to make me die

[bookwyrm1623]

Karin Boye Translation

Of course it pains the buds to burst Why else would sweet spring stay its hand? Why else would all our hot desire By bleak and bitter frost be bound? Through winter the bud was covered, safe What is this newness, catching, breaking? Of course it pains the buds to burst All those that grow or die are aching.

Of course it's hard for drops to fall They hang there heavy, shivering They clutch the branch, swell and slide Weight drags them down, oh how they cling Hard to be torn, scared, divided Hard to feel the pull and call of the deep And yet remain, just trembling Hard to want to stay, and want to leap.

Then, at its worst without hope of aid The buds burst like a joyous call Then when all fear has lost its hold The drops in a shining cascade fall Forgetting their fear of what was new Forgetting that they had been afraid Feeling at once their greatest comfort Resting in that faith where the world is made.