carthaginians: ([art] in love with this present world)
[personal profile] carthaginians
translated by Stanisław Barańcza, Clare Cavanagh







"Możliwości"

Wolę kino.
Wolę koty.
Wolę dęby nad Wartą.
Wolę Dickensa od Dostojewskiego.
Wolę siebie lubiącą ludzi
niż siebie kochającą ludzkość.
Wolę mieć w pogotowiu igłę z nitką.
Wolę kolor zielony.
Wolę nie twierdzić,
że rozum jest wszystkiemu winien.
Wolę wyjątki.
Wolę wychodzić wcześniej.
Wolę rozmawiać z lekarzami o czymś innym.
Wolę stare ilustracje w prążki.
Wolę śmieszność pisania wierszy
od śmieszności ich niepisania.
Wolę w miłości rocznice nieokrągłe,
do obchodzenia na co dzień.
Wolę moralistów,
którzy nie obiecują mi nic.
Wolę dobroć przebiegłą od łatwowiernej za bardzo.
Wolę ziemię w cywilu.
Wolę kraje podbite niż podbijające.
Wolę mieć zastrzeżenia.
Wolę piekło chaosu od piekła porządku.
Wolę bajki Grimma od pierwszych stron gazet.
Wolę liście bez kwiatów niż kwiaty bez liści.
Wolę psy z ogonem nie przyciętym.
Wolę oczy jasne, ponieważ mam ciemne.
Wolę szuflady.
Wolę wiele rzeczy, których tu nie wymieniłam,
od wielu również tu nie wymienionych.
Wolę zera luzem
niż ustawione w kolejce do cyfry.
Wolę czas owadzi od gwiezdnego.
Wolę odpukać.
Wolę nie pytać jak długo jeszcze i kiedy.
Wolę brać pod uwagę nawet tę możliwość,
że byt ma swoją rację.



"Possibilities"

I prefer movies.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the Warta.
I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
I prefer myself liking people
to myself loving mankind.
I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case.
I prefer the color green.
I prefer not to maintain
that reason is to blame for everything.
I prefer exceptions.
I prefer to leave early.
I prefer talking to doctors about something else.
I prefer the old fine-lined illustrations.
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems
to the absurdity of not writing poems.
I prefer, where love's concerned, nonspecific anniversaries
that can be celebrated every day.
I prefer moralists
who promise me nothing.
I prefer cunning kindness to the over-trustful kind.
I prefer the earth in civvies.
I prefer conquered to conquering countries.
I prefer having some reservations.
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
I prefer Grimms' fairy tales to the newspapers' front pages.
I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.
I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.
I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark.
I prefer desk drawers.
I prefer many things that I haven't mentioned here
to many things I've also left unsaid.
I prefer zeroes on the loose
to those lined up behind a cipher.
I prefer the time of insects to the time of stars.
I prefer to knock on wood.
I prefer not to ask how much longer and when.
I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility
that existence has its own reason for being.
spiralsheep: Reality is a dangerous concept (babel Blake Reality Dangerous Concept)
[personal profile] spiralsheep
A poem about language, scripts, and translations, offered without translation, because I thought some of you would appreciate it.

Hill Speak by Zaffar Kunial
 
There is no dictionary for my father’s language. )
carthaginians: ([text] invisible sun)
[personal profile] carthaginians
translated by A.Z. Foreman







נסיעה לילית לעין יהב בערבה
נסיעה בגשם. כן בגשם.
שם פגשתי אנשים שמגדלים תמרים.
שם ראיתי עצי אשל ועצי אשליה.
שם ראיתי תקוה דוקרנית כמו תיל דוקרני
ואמרתי בלבי: אמת, התקוה צריכה להיות
כמו תיל כדי להגן עלינו מן היאוש.
התקוה צריכה להיות שדה מוקשים



A night drive to Ein Yahav in the Arabah.
A drive in the rain. Yes, in the rain.
There, I met people who grow date palms.
There, I saw great tamarisk trees and great risk trees
There, I saw hope barbed like barbed wire
And I said to myself: It is the truth. Hope must be
Like barbed wire to keep out our despair.
Hope must be a minefield.

[personal profile] naad
here's an abhang by Sant Tsokhamela. [the more common spelling is Chokhamela, but i'm following my ideology of transcribing rather than transliterating proper nouns and un-translatable words - and 'tsa' to my mind more accurately denotes the Marathi sound which is the pronunciation of the letter commonly Romanised as 'cha'. think of 'tsar' and you'll be pretty close.]

[original Marathi in Devanaagari]
ऊस डोंगा परि रस नोहे डोंगा | काय भूललासी वरलिया रंगा
कमान डोंगी परि तीर नोहे डोंगा | काय भूललासी वरलिया रंगा
नदी डोंगी परि जल नोहे डोंगे  | काय भूललासी वरलिया रंगा
चोखा डोंगा परि भाव नोहे डोंगा | काय भूललासी वरलिया रंगा

[transliteration in Roman - long vowels doubled, short ones single]
Oos Dongaa Pari Rasa Nohe Dongaa | Kaaya Bhulalaasi Varaliyaa Rangaa
Kamaan Dongee Pari Teer Nohe Dongaa | Kaaya Bhulalaasi Varaliyaa Rangaa
Nadee Dongee Pari Jala Nohe Donge | Kaaya Bhulalaasi Varaliyaa Rangaa
Tsokhaa Dongaa Pari Bhaav Nohe Dongaa | Kaaya Bhulalaasi Varaliyaa Rangaa

[partial translation in Roman-script Hindi]
gannaa tedhaa hogaa par ras kharaab nahin hai | kyaa bhool gaye ho 'varaliyaa rangaa'
kamaan kuroop hogaa par teer tedhaa nahin hai | kyaa bhool gaye ho 'varaliyaa rangaa'
nadee tedhee-medhi hogee par paani tedhaa nahin hai | kyaa bhool gaye ho 'varaliyaa rangaa'
tsokha badsoorat hogaa par uska bhaav bhrasht nahin hai | kyaa bhool gaye ho 'varaliyaa rangaa'

[partial translation in Roman-script English - the second half of each line has been omitted]
A sugar-cane may be twisted and ugly, but the juice is not, it's still sweet
The quiver may be disfigured and misshapen, but the arrow is still straight and true
A river may be twisting and contorting, but its waters are not so
Tsokha may be grotesque and repulsive, but his mind is not impure

i couldn't find any translations on the Net of the second phrase in each line - "Kaaya Bhulalaasi Varaliyaa Rangaa" - if anyone has any clue how to translate it, please comment. as far as i can tell: 
kaaya = what (Hindi: kyaa)
bhoolalaasi = have forgotten (Hindi: bhool gaye ho / bhool gayaa hoon)
rangaa = color-something??

you can hear a modern rendition of it via the 'Music:' link.

carthaginians: (Default)
[personal profile] carthaginians








যদি তোর ডাক শুনে কেউ না আসে তবে একলা চলো রে।
একলা চলো, একলা চলো, একলা চলো, একলা চলো রে॥
যদি কেউ কথা না কয়, ওরে ওরে ও অভাগা,
যদি সবাই থাকে মুখ ফিরায়ে সবাই করে ভয়—
তবে পরান খুলে
ও তুই মুখ ফুটে তোর মনের কথা একলা বলো রে॥
যদি সবাই ফিরে যায়, ওরে ওরে ও অভাগা,
যদি গহন পথে যাবার কালে কেউ ফিরে না চায়—
তবে পথের কাঁটা
ও তুই রক্তমাখা চরণতলে একলা দলো রে॥
যদি আলো না ধরে, ওরে ওরে ও অভাগা,
যদি ঝড়-বাদলে আঁধার রাতে দুয়ার দেয় ঘরে—
তবে বজ্রানলে
আপন বুকের পাঁজর জ্বালিয়ে নিয়ে একলা জ্বলো রে॥
Jodi tor đak shune keu na ashe tôbe êkla chôlo re,
Êkla chôlo, êkla chôlo, êkla chôlo, êkla chôlo re.
Jodi keu kôtha na kôe, ore ore o ôbhaga,
Jodi shôbai thake mukh firaee shôbai kôre bhôe—
Tôbe pôran khule
O tui mukh fuţe tor moner kôtha êkla bôlo re.
Jodi shôbai fire jae, ore ore o ôbhaga,
Jodi gôhon pôthe jabar kale keu fire na chae—
Tôbe pôther kãţa
O tui rôktomakha chôrontôle êkla dôlo re.
Jodi alo na dhôre, ore ore o ôbhaga,
Jodi jhôŗ-badole ãdhar rate duar dêe ghôre—
Tôbe bojranôle
Apon buker pãjor jalie nie êkla jôlo re.
If they answer not to thy call walk alone,
If they are afraid and cower mutely facing the wall,
O thou unlucky one,
open thy mind and speak out alone.

If they turn away, and desert you when crossing the wilderness,
O thou unlucky one,
trample the thorns under thy tread,
and along the blood-lined track travel alone.

If they do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with storm,
O thou unlucky one,
with the thunder flame of pain ignite thy own heart
and let it burn alone.
delfinnium: (five spices)
[personal profile] delfinnium
sort of cross-posted from my journal on the recommendation of [personal profile] dhobikikutti


The other day I'd met my friend from JC, and amongst other things (catching up, finding out he's practically a professional photographer OMG), he's a teacher now, in primary school. Woah, what's THAT? People my age are teaching primary school now!

Anyway, we'd ended up talking abotu English and the thing about Singlish in schools, teaching and all.

One of the ways you can tell if someone's a Singaporean/Malaysian is the inflection of their Singlish/Manglish slang, and the ... for lack of a better word, tonality. )

***

Talking about dialects and languages – when does a dialect become a language? )

****

Met one of my lab-mates yesterday. When I asked her what her name was, and which 'Lan' it was, in Chinese, she told me it was 'lan hua' (orchid) and then was very surprised and happy to find out I could speak Mandarin.

Uuuuh. She thought that I couldn't, because one of our other labmates said I couldn't (I can't ask for help in 'how to make the printer work!', my Mandarin is not that good), and because I'm Singaporean, and the other Singaporean in our lab can't speak Mandarin either (he's either malay or peranakan), she was under the impression that Singaporeans can't speak Mandarin.

Uuuuuuuuuuh .

Well a lot of Singaporeans younger than I am actually have poor grasps on Manadarin, yes. Teaching styles and so on, it's not conducive to proper chinese education. (I can go on all day about how Chinese education is very BAD in Singapore, because whoever came up with how Chinese/mother-tongue was to be taught were clearly not language instructors.) People my age-group and older? More of them are bilingual, mostly because their PARENTS had been.

Just... a random thing, I guess.
carthaginians: (Default)
[personal profile] carthaginians
translated by Stanisław Baranczak, Clare Cavanagh






Rozmowa z kamieniem

Pukam do drzwi kamienia.
- To ja, wpuść mnie.
Chcę wejść do twego wnętrza,
rozejrzeć się dokoła,
nabrać ciebie jak tchu.


- Odejdź - mówi kamień. -
Jestem szczelnie zamknięty.
Nawet rozbite na częsci
będziemy szczelnie zamknięte.
Nawet starte na piasek
nie wpuścimy nikogo.


Pukam do drzwi kamienia.
- To ja, wpuść mnie.
Przychodzę z ciekawości czystej.
Życie jest dla niej jedyną okazją.
Zamierzam przejść się po twoim pałacu,
a potem jeszcze zwiedzić liść i krople wody.
Niewiele czasu na to wszystko mam.
Moja śmiertelność powinna Cię wzruszyć.


- Jestem z kamienia - mówi kamień -
i z konieczności muszę zachować powagę.
Odejdź stąd.
Nie mam mięśni śmiechu.


Pukam do drzwi kamienia.
- To ja, wpuść mnie.
Słyszałam że są w tobie wielkie puste sale,
nie oglądane, piękne nadaremnie,
gluche, bez echa czyichkolwiek kroków.
Przyznaj, że sam niedużo o tym wiesz.


- Wielkie i puste sale - mówi kamień -
ale w nich miejsca nie ma.
Piękne, być może, ale poza gustem
twoich ubogich zmysłów.
Możesz mnie poznać, nie zaznasz mnie nigdy.
Całą powierzchnią zwracam się ku tobie,
a całym wnętrzem leżę odwrócony.


Pukam do drzwi kamienia.
- To ja, wpuść mnie.
Nie szukam w tobie przytułku na wieczność.
Nie jestem nieszczęśliwa.
Nie jestem bezdomna.
Mój świat jest wart powrotu.
Wejdę i wyjdę z pustymi rękami.
A na dowód, że byłam prawdziwie obecna,
nie przedstawię niczego prócz słów,
którym nikt nie da wiary.


- Nie wejdziesz - mówi kamień. -
Brak ci zmysłu udziału.
Nawet wzrok wyostrzony aż do wszechwidzenia
nie przyda ci się na nic bez zmysłu udziału.
Nie wejdziesz, masz zaledwie zamysł tego zmysłu,
ledwie jego zawiązek, wyobraźnię.


Pukam do drzwi kamienia.
- To ja, wpuść mnie.
Nie mogę czekać dwóch tysięcy wieków
na wejście pod twój dach.


- Jeżeli mi nie wierzysz - mówi kamień -
zwróć się do liścia, powie to, co ja.
Do kropli wody, powie to, co liść.
Na koniec spytaj włosa z własnej głowy.
Śmiech mnie rozpiera, śmiech, olbrzymi śmiech,
którym śmiac się nie umiem.


Pukam do drzwi kamienia.
- To ja, wpuść mnie.


- Nie mam drzwi - mówi kamień

Conversation with a Stone

I knock at the stone's front door.
"It's only me, let me come in.
I want to enter your insides,
have a look round,
breathe my fill of you."

"Go away," says the stone.
"I'm shut tight.
Even if you break me to pieces,
we'll all still be closed.
You can grind us to sand,
we still won't let you in."

I knock at the stone's front door.
"It's only me, let me come in.
I've come out of pure curiosity.
Only life can quench it.
I mean to stroll through your palace,
then go calling on a leaf, a drop of water.
I don't have much time.
My mortality should touch you."

"I'm made of stone," says the stone,
"and must therefore keep a straight face.
Go away.
I don't have the muscles to laugh."

I knock at the stone's front door.
"It's only me, let me come in.
I hear you have great empty halls inside you,
unseen, their beauty in vain,
soundless, not echoing anyone's steps.
Admit you don't know them well yourself."

"Great and empty, true enough," says the stone,
"but there isn't any room.
Beautiful, perhaps, but not to the taste
of your poor senses.
You may get to know me, but you'll never know me through.
My whole surface is turned toward you,
all my insides turned away."

I knock at the stone's front door.
"It's only me, let me come in.
I don't seek refuge for eternity.
I'm not unhappy.
I'm not homeless.
My world is worth returning to.
I'll enter and exit empty-handed.

And my proof I was there
will be only words,
which no one will believe."

"You shall not enter," says the stone.
"You lack the sense of taking part.
No other sense can make up for your missing sense of taking part.
Even sight heightened to become all-seeing
will do you no good without a sense of taking part.
You shall not enter, you have only a sense of what that sense should be,
only its seed, imagination."

I knock at the stone's front door.
"It's only me, let me come in.
I haven't got two thousand centuries,
so let me come under your roof."

"If you don't believe me," says the stone,
"just ask the leaf, it will tell you the same.
Ask a drop of water, it will say what the leaf has said.
And, finally, ask a hair from your own head.
I am bursting with laughter, yes, laughter, vast laughter,
although I don't know how to laugh."

I knock at the stone's front door.
"It's only me, let me come in."

"I don't have a door," says the stone.
dhobikikutti: earthen diya (Default)
[personal profile] dhobikikutti
This is one of those rare forwards that my relatives send me which I am actually posting instead of summarily deleting. Hopefully one of these days I will have the brainpower to attempt a translation; as it stands I am too tired to provide a transliteration right now, sorry.

Out dated झालंय आयुष्य
स्वप्नही download होत नाही
संवेदनांना 'virus' लागलाय
दु:खं send करता येत नाही

जुने पावसाळे उडून गेलेत
delete झालेल्या file सारखे
अन घर आता शांत असतं
range नसलेया mobile सारखे

hang झालेल्या PC सारखी
मातीची स्थिती वाईट
जाती नाती जोडणारी
कुठेच नाही website

एकविसाव्या शतकातली
पीढी भलतीच 'cute'
contact list वाढत गेली
संवाद झाले mute

computer च्या chip सारखा
माणूस मनानं खुजा झालाय
अन 'mother' नावाचा board,
त्याच्या आयुष्यातून वजा झालाय

floppy Disk Drive मध्ये
आता संस्कारांनाच जागा नाही
अन फाटली मनं सांधणारा
internet वर धागा नाही

विज्ञानाच्या गुलामगिरीत
केवढी मोठी चूक
रक्ताच्या नात्यांनाही
आता लागते facebook...

-- श्री बबलू वडार

ही कविता राज्यव्यापी शिक्षक साहित्य संमेलनासाठी, श्री बबलू वडार (शिक्षक -कोल्हापूर) यांनी लिहिली होती. कविता पठण स्पर्धेत त्यांना पहिला नंबर मिळाला.

(Wow - this is the first use of the language: marathi tag? I am shocked. Someone get some Tukaram in the house, stat.)
spiralsheep: Flowers (skywardprodigal Cog Flowers)
[personal profile] spiralsheep
I saw this poem by Nobel Prize-winning poet Wisława Szymborska in translation on the (recently linked) [community profile] poetree com and thought I'd track down the Polish original because I've read two other translations and neither of them appealed to me at all but this one by Adam Czerniawski made me want to read more. More of her poems can be found, with English and Swedish translations, on the Nobel Prize website amongst many other places.

Dnia 16 maja 1973 roku

Jedna z tych wielu dat,
kóre nie mówią mi już nic.

Dokąd w tym dniu chodziłam.
co robiłam - nie wiem.

Gdyby w pobliżu popełniono zbrodnię
- nie miałabym alibi.

Słońce błysło i zgasło
poza moją uwagą.
Ziemia się obróciła
bez wzmianki w notesie.

The rest and an English translation. )
jjhunter: Drawing of human JJ in ink tinted with blue watercolor; woman wearing glasses with arched eyebrows (JJ inked)
[personal profile] jjhunter
Meta: translating Japanese by [profile] lhhammer @ [community profile] poetree
Aside from the usual translation problem of how words do not match one-to-one across languages, but rather overlap in meaning and tenor and connotation, the biggest difficulty with Japanese is that it's what linguists call a pro-drop language. That is, any information that a listener can understand from context can and usually will be omitted. The attitude is something like, If you have enough context to understand who a pronoun refers to, why bother with the pronoun? In everyday conversation or an extended prose passage, this generally isn't hard to deal with as there's a lot of context, but in a short, detached poem, the lacunae can be hard to fill, leaving you to ponder whether a verb describes the action of "I," "you," "us," or some other person or people.


==

Also, for those who missed [personal profile] goneahead's fabulous week as POETREE Host focusing on 'International Poetry' earlier this month, [personal profile] alee_grrl has put together an excellent roundup post.

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