18 Aibreán 2008

La Langue (An Teanga)

Si romantique, si belle sur ma bouche,
Mais elle ne me comprend…
La famille de mon père vient de Normandie ;
Parce que ça, j’ai dois savoir la langue de mes ancestraux.

Mais la langue de mon cœur est une langue
Plus vielle que la beauté là
Le gaëlique me contrôle
Comme un parent amoureux.

Elle déteste des autres –
Le breton, le basque, l’anglais,
Aime-elle ma langue, ai-je une bienvenue a-t-elle, ou
Dois-je sacrifier les autres pour elle ?

Je ne fais pas ça avec eux ;
Mais l’irlandais est le Premier de moi
Les autres sont égales, à mon avis
Mais j’ai une affection pour cette beauté.

Dublin, 17 avril 08

---

An Teanga
Aistriuithe ón bhFraincis

Chomh rómánsúil, chomh deas ar mo bhéal,
Ach ní thuigeann sise mé...
Is as an Nórmainn clann m’athar;
Mar dhea, tá orm teanga mo mhuintir ‘bheith ar eolas agam

Ach ‘sí teanga mo chroí ná teanga
Níos sinne ná’n áillteacht sin
Tá smacht ar an nGaeilge orm
Cosúil le tuismitheoir grámhar.

Is fuath léi na cinn eile –
An Bhriotáinis, an Bhascais, an Béarla,
An maith léi, mo theanga, ‘bhfuil fáilte aici romham, nó
‘bhFuil orm na cinn eile a bhaineadh díom dá son?

Ní dhéanaim sin leo;
Ach is mo Thaoiseach í an Ghaeilge
Tá na cinn eile mar a chéile, im’ thuairim
Ach tá cion agam don áilleacht seo.

12 trácht:

Colm said...

Dois-je sacrifier les autres pour elle ?

Non, je pense pas vraiment. Je comprends ce que tu dis en ce qui concerne l'irlandais, qu'elle est la première, la langue la plus importante, la plus belle. Mais, quand même je crois que tu est bien capable de jongler les autres aussi :-)

Beidh mé ar ais. Is breá liom do chuid filíochta.

Anonymous said...

tá sé seo gleoite, gleoite, gleoite, reoite reoite reoite fite fuiate le háilleacht is laoibhneas an tsamhraidh. Ta feith Yeats ionat agus feith sean phaidi an fhile.


File, file filleann m'óige agus imionn, imíonn, imionn buairt an tsaoil.


Sleamhnaionn m'aigne siar is aniar, soir is soir, o thuaidh is aduaidh, aniar is aneas is file file file file file tu.

feith an ghar don focal 'faith' creidim ionat.

Lion me le do anam is le do spiorad le spairt agus leabhair agus le peann luaidhe an fhile.


An bhfuil aon rud foilsithe agat?
Ta me cinnte go bhfuil ach nil me cinnte cen teanga a roghnu.


Glac seilbh ar an danmhairgais mar a mheall tu mo chroi is beidh muid cinnte ag caint is ag ceol is briathra binne eadrainn a chara mo chleibh.


Slan...ach ni deirtear slan riamh ta tu ionam i mo chroi i m'anam, i mo lathair.

Cnuasaigh me is cothaigh mo bheola agus scaoil le do chroi is beidh tu ionam is me ionat .....Ionainn, ionainnn, Ionann


Iomann don áilleacht. File file file file file filochta

ta me ar meisce , i ngra ta an tsileail i mo bhriste



Slan

Anonymous said...

Mon ami

j'ai trouvé sur le net

un poete,

et il m'a écouré

effleurer,

je pense a toi,

comme moi

mais pas toi

t'es moi, moi c'est toi,

on est la et la loi c'est lourd

alors on est

dans le sac

Seo dán faoi do filíocht a scríobh mé anois


'ding dong'

fuair mé filíocht

ar an net

mar gheall ar tú

tá mé geit

geit tú mé

geit tú muid

geit Ua rÍordaáin

geit geit


chuala mé an doras ding dong ding dong

ding dong agus sin uile a bhí ann mar scéal

d'fhreagair mé tú

seol mé go dtí an earrach

tá tú mór is mé beag

tá tú te tá mé fuar

ding dong dong ding

tá mo chroí ar an trá

Anonymous said...

Teanga nua

in ómos do Scott a spreag mé agus a leag mé.

Lá Nua

teanga nua

la langue, an teanga,

ar an trá

feicim bád, bád mo chroí

duilleoga tríd an fhuinneog

suaimhneas, samhradh ach tá me fe up le mo saol.

tagaim ar do cuidne den filíocht

tá mé sa leabhar ach tá mo chroí

i nGrozny,

B

an litir sin,

b
bUITLEIR AN BHFUIL Tú ANN

NO AN BHFUIL TU I MO CHEANN

TA ME BEO

LEAT, L;ATTE FED UP WITH LIFE

ACH TU

TA TU ME MISE, ISTIGH I MO SIDE OF MY HEART

tog me go hoilean Mhannainn,


manannán

an fharraige,

níl farraige anseo ta muid ar an ferry


ferry, féirín, féar glas

tá muid éireannachh glas, gl;as glas


ach BBB

an litir san B

Buitléireach


ar an trá
bean, bradán,


B. eitpheil agus liathróidí


ar an trá

ar maidin

sa smahradh sa gheimhreadh

séasúr


Ta mé chun Haiku a scríobh amáireach

Anonymous said...

Der Dichter.....
Fur meiner Mann


auf dem Weg zum Strand,
Ich sehe dich.... da.
Daruber.
Ja da!

hier, sind wir zusammen- immer zusammen...
das Wasser spritzt mir das Gesicht.
wie du einst mein Gesicht gespritzt hast.


Die Zeit geht vorbei....uns vorbei.immer vorbei.
aber hier werden wir immmer zusammen sein.
Trotz der Zeit.

End? Enda? bist du da?

Unbekannt

Anonymous said...

strawberries are not the only fruit.

twilight in your bowl shaped dreams
a small dog watches us furtively as we grace the promenade of our future

you hold tightly to my platonic desire

light hits the shadowy exterior of the poetic nature we inhabit

dark as the Christmas pudding we shared that day, soft and stodgy

cherries and the forbidden fruit of the flesh of the mandarins you fed to me


however, moreover, i regret to inform you that i no longer sample the bitter rounded fruit of your loins

Anonymous said...

haiku an lay

maistreadh cos
leaba na farraige
ciúnaionn currach céaslaigh do bhod

Scott De Buitléir said...

LMAO! Cé thú féin, a chara ghrinn!?

Anonymous said...

the dart


we meet, morning

we feel evening

cornflakes tea

fun , fast

FREE

fill me , hug me, spill yourself

onto my innermost sanctum

the altar of my youth

you thou art the one

satiate my sandwich

you are the 24 hour Spar of my dreams


enrapture my wilderness

case my house

rob my video

you are a policeman

truncheon me now

Anonymous said...

i eat you

eat me

fruit on a raleigh racer

with 7 gears

an uphill struggle in your trousers

tell the window cleaner that I am the jif of life


the dalmatian's lolling tongue fills my head with devilment

engineering department with a long white coat you are naked, touch me, feel me, i am cold as steel


stirrups at the ready my son, he warns, we'll ride till the horses cannot stand.

Anonymous said...

la


deavant la mere

j'aime ta finesse ta toilette

la verité du séance

l'égalité

t'es la vache

vraiment


mais je sais si bein que tu seras la pour moi

l'étrnité c'est demain

Anonymous said...

wild william and the willberries


you were my first true

chatte

lost

lingering kiss

although we both knew that you were only

for me

a ghost and I found it so hard to


grip your hand or feel

the tiller on the boat


when the teacher gave us extra homework for working


the happy hazy horrid hardship and labour

of youth

is spit you , chew you like the meat of a wild whale who has become lost on a night out in leeson street

i smell flowers , your perspiring feet are to me lilies, roses


and i also like you for being to me


more than a man a lover, a stick to beat myself up with


you tend to me

fend for me

eat me up and chew me


and i would be the very spittle which allows you to

manouevre the mini i bought yopu for christmas


into the driveway

I Am A METAPHOR

AND NO MAN NOR WOMAN CAN EAT ME NO MORE


I AM AMBIENT AND GRACEFUL


and most of all


i love to study histology with eclaired flavoured drugs with the lights on


Slán