a bilingual rensaku

       1

píosa eile coiréil
            caite i dtír:
                        bhog sé – portán sligreach



another piece of coral
            washed up on the beach:
                        it moves – hermit crab





            2

spéir gan teimheal –
            ar aghaidh leis arís
                        ag máirseáil, portán sligreach



cloudless sky –
            off again on his marches
                        hermit crab



            3

tost ... airgeadaíonn an ghealach
            an gaineamh faoina luíonn
                        na huibheacha turtar

silence ... the moon silvers
            the sand that hides
                        turtle eggs



          







            4

iompaíonn a lí
            ar an ré chródhearg
                        teitheann na réaltaí



a blood-red moon
            changes colour
                        putting all the stars to flight



            5

cruth an choiréil ******>            cruth réaltbhuíne
                                                            i gcéin



the shape of this coral
            shape of a distant
                                                            galaxy



            6

oileáin á nochtadh
            is ag leá
an mar seo a cruthaíodh an domhan?



islands coming
            and going
is this how the world was made?













            7

ní gá iarraidh orthu –
            seolann na crainn phailme
                        bríos chugainn



cooling breeze
            from palm trees –
                        without asking



            8

an féileacán fiú
            glacann scíth
                        san ámóg



even the butterfly
            takes a rest
                        in the hammock





            9

taoi foirfe, i ngach slí,
a mhuiscít; mar sin féin
fan amach uaim



you are perfect in every way
mosquito; nonetheless
buzz off







            10

spléachadh ar thurtar
            a shúile
is a bhfuil feicthe acu



glimpse of a turtle
            his eyes
and what they have seen



            11

lorg bídeach chosa an éin
            ag díriú de shíor
ar ghaineamh gan chríoch



faint imprint of a bird’s feet
            pointing                       pointing
towards infinite sands





            12

isteach i bpoll sa ghaineamh
            rud a bhí róthapaidh
                        le hainmniú



into a hole in the sand
            something  too quick
to be named





            13

níl faic ar na gaobhair
ach brostaíonn an chearc a hál
an cosán anonn





nothing in sight
yet the hen bustles her clutch
across the path





            14

féar mara
            itheann na turtair é
                        seachas sin, n’fheadar



sea grass
            turtles eat it
                        apart from that, who knows















            15

linnte geala
            domhainchiúnais
                                    a réaltaí, na himíg’!



bright pools
            of deep silence –
                        no, stars, don’t go!



            16

nach toilltach!
            ar luas an tsolais, nach mór,
                        scairt an choiligh



how penetrating!
            almost at the speed of light
                        **** crow





            17

an lá á ghlaoch
            chun beochta acu
                        coiligh nach bhfeictear



calling the day
            to life –
                        invisible cockerels









            18
          
domhan fo thoinn
            cruinniú gearr
                        leis an mballach Napoléon



underwave world
            short meeting
                        with the Napoleon wrasse





            19

guth dearg an choiligh
            dathaíonn spéir
                        na maidine



a ****’s red voice
            painting
                        the morning sky





            20

coiréal inchinne cnapánaí
            gealas na réaltaí-
                        gan smaointe



knobby brain coral
            starglow -
                        no thoughts





            21



coiligh ag freagairt dá chéile
            eatarthu leátar
                        an ré



***** echoing one another
            between them they dissolve
                        the moon





            22

cos léi amuigh –
            tá an chuileog rómhór
                        do bhéal an gheiceo





one leg hangs out –
            the fly is too big
                        for the gecko’s mouth



            23



anáil chiúnaithe
            na cruinne: is ansin
                        scairt an choiligh





the stilled breath
            of the universe: then
                        cockcrow





            24

éisc ar crochadh
            faoin ngrian –
                        muir gan mhonabhar



fish hung out
            to dry
                        murmurless sea





            25

ina gceann is ina gceann
ciúnaíonn tonnta
                        roimh réaltaí



one by one
            waves become placid
                        for the stars





            26

scáil an turtair
            nó féar mara
                        b'fhéidir



turtle shadow
            or sea grass
                        maybe





            27

línte reatha -
an t-iasc séabrach
ag scríobh ar uisce



fleeting lines -
the zebra fish
writing on water











            28

hurlamaboc

            francach

                        in airde sa chrann cnó cócó



hullabaloo

            a rat

aloft in the coconut tree

scríobhfaidh mé rud gaelach gach lá,
fiú má tá drochghaeilge,
agus fiú má nach mhaith liom.

mar sin, tá mo theanga seo,
's úsaidim í!

AN RUD A DÚIRT ÉAN BEAG LIOM
( A Little Bird Told Me)

- for David Cooke -

"For a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter."  - Ecclesiastes 10-20

"Oh!" said the bird
" A human who..."

( and I never saw such
a surprised starling )

"...can understand
our language!"

"You can speak!" I blurted out.
"So, I see can you!" gasped the starling.

"The strange thing is...!"
I framed my words carefully

"...we can understand each other!"
the starling finished my sentence.

"But how..?"
being human I had to ask.

"Forget the hows and whys!"
friend starling replied.

"Just relish the moment
the such and suchness of it all!"

I made up my mind
to do so.

"Everything talks if
you only listen!"

the starling continued
its lesson.

"The mountains talk
to the seas continuously!"

The starling so
informed me.

"But humans never ever
(well hardly ever)listen!"

chirped the starling
playfully.

I see it had been listening
to Gilbert and Sullivan.

"And..." the starling went on
it was us birds who taught them!"

I could tell it was proud of
the whole nation of birds.

"Well, I'ill be...!" I sad.
"Yes..." said the starling "...a poet!"

"Poets know the language
of everything"

The starling stated
as if it were a law.

"What the reed in the rushes
told the lake..."

"Or how the sky sees
and says it all..."

Then its feathers trembled
with the change in the air.

"Well, I must fly!"
chuckled the starling.

"Well, well..." boomed the sky
in perfect Blueness.

"Was that a human
I saw you talking to..."

thundered it vastness
dark clouds looming on its horizon.

"Noooo - not me!"
lied the starling

for whatever
reason.

"Hmmm..!" hmmmm the sky suspiciously
"He looked a bit Irish to me!"

"Níl Gaeilge ar bith agam ar chor ar bith!"
stammered the starling.

And the day continued on
talking to Time incessantly.

*

The éan beag that told me all this against the wishes of the sky...was the drud or druideog...the common starling or as in the W.B. Yeats' poem THE STARE'S NEST.

It liked to quote the lines to me in its own charming voice.

"We are closed in, and the key is turned
On our uncertainty;"

And here was my little stare friend opening my mind out and turning the key.

When caught by the sky telling tales to humans the little fella tries to get out of it by telling the sky "I don't have any Irish at all!" but in Irish. Of course the sky although knowing everything didn't however know any Irish!

I was uncertain of the lines about uncertainty in the Yeats and was trying to remember the Callimachus about people not listening...how a mountain never listens to a sea. And David Cooke when he was staying with us was delighted to find some Greek that he both loved and could indeed read and I thought I betcha David could tell me. But of course not having a David Cooke at hand I stumbled along in these lines and offered up the poem to him.

AN RUD A DÚRIT ÉAN BEAG LIOM
( A Little Bird Told Me)

- for David Cooke -

"For a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter."  - Ecclesiastes 10-20


"Oh!" said the bird
" A human who..."

( and I never saw such
a surprised starling )

"...can understand
our language!"

"You can speak!" I blurted out.
"So, I see can you!" gasped the starling.

"The strange thing is...!"
I framed my words carefully

"...we can understand each other!"
the starling finished my sentence.

"But how..?"
being human I had to ask.

"Forget the hows and whys!"
friend starling replied.

"Just relish the moment
the such and suchness of it all!"

I made up my mind
to do so.

"Everything talks if
you only listen!"

the starling continued
its lesson.

"The mountains talk
to the seas continuously!"

The starling so
informed me.

"But humans never ever
(well hardly ever)listen!"

chirped the starling
playfully.

I see it had been listening
to Gilbert and Sullivan.

"And..." the starling went on
it was us birds who taught them!"

I could tell it was proud of
the whole nation of birds.

"Well, I'ill be...!" I sad.
"Yes..." said the starling "...a poet!"

"Poets know the language
of everything"

The starling stated
as if it were a law.

"What the reed in the rushes
told the lake..."

"Or how the sky sees
and says it all..."

Then its feathers trembled
with the change in the air.

"Well, I must fly!"
chuckled the starling.

"Well, well..." boomed the sky
in perfect Blueness.

"Was that a human
I saw you talking to..."

thundered it vastness
dark clouds looming on its horizon.

"Noooo - not me!"
lied the starling

for whatever
reason.

"Hmmm..!" hmmmmthe sky suspiciously
"He looked a bit Irish to me!"

"Níl Gaeilge ar bith agam ar chor ar bith!"
stammered the starling.

And the day continued on
talking to Time incessantly.

Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind,
And that which governs me to go about
Doth part his function, and is partly blind,
Seems seeing, but effectually is out;
For it no form delivers to the heart
Of bird, of flower, or shape which it doth latch;
Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,
Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch;
For if it see the rud’st or gentlest sight,
The most sweet-favour or deformed’st creature,
The mountain or the sea, the day or night,
The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature.
    Incapable of more, replete with you,
    My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue.

Bhíomar ag imirt haca an lá sin
Agus bhí tu ina  bhall de mo fhoirenn
B' uimir a dó tú: mise, uimhir a trí
Thog an fhoireann sealanna chun mo chathoir a bhrúite.
An 'carbad na tine ' mar a dúirt mé
Ba  naíchóiste é  i ndáiríre.

Bhí tú ag tiomáint
Agus bhí tú ag rá rudaí
Chun an leanamh a cuireadh isteach air
Coisúil le 'Nil aon seanc agat' nó 'Iontach! Fior-iontach!'
Níor dhúirt tú aon rud  nuar a luaigh mé gurb inís Hamlet breacht dom.
B'fhedír 'dáiríre?' ach sin é.

Tar éis ár gcluiche
Ghabh  mé búiochas duit
Bhí tú ina sheasamh ar an staighre
Bhí mise ag strechaint le mo  bhúiochas
Mo mhaoltheanga: tá fhios agat
Chonaic mé an trua i do shúile
Bhí mé lag agus bhí fhios agat

Chuaigh tú sios staighre gan fhocal
Fádo, duirt tú go leor...

Tá tú an réalt ag taitneamh
i mo domhan dorcha

nach bhfuil rud ar bith sa saol seo
Ní ba mhaith liom a dhéanamh ar do shon

Ba mhaith liom dul ar fud an domhain seo
Ba mhaith liom troid ar bith Demon
Má chiallaigh sé tú a choinneáil
ag mo thaobh.

Tá tú mo Shlánaitheoir
Mo shlánú
Mo bheannacht
Ní leor faoi cheilt a dhéanamh mar sin

Is breá liom tú Kaitlyn
le gach snáithín de mo á

Is breá liom tú

anocht, d'ithim dinnéar le chairde:
bhí áthas orm! rinne mé dearmad orm féin.

GREANN MO CHROÍ

Ullastráth...do ghrá
gan fhios dom ach ‘nois do ghrá
gach aon rud...gach áit!

*

MY HEART’S LOVE

The day before the day before yesterday...your love
unknown to me...but now
your love...everything...everywhere!

bhí coinne agam anocht,
chuaigh muid go Lus na Gréine.
bhí sí go hiontach.

labhraimid le chéile,
faoi gach rud agus níos mó.
bhí sí go hiontach.

tá sásta orm.

I DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING AT ALL!

I don't dream
in Irish

because I don't know
enough Irish

to dream in
. . .ok.

Still the dawn chorus
seeps into my consciousness

with each bird screaming
first the robin then the wren

"Ní fhaca tú
aon rud ar bith!"

Now all the birds scream
like a brutal Babylon Berlin interrogation .

"NÍ FHACA TÚ
AON RUD AR BITH!"

Until I admit in English
"I didn't see anything at all!"

Then I wake up in terror
only it is still the dream.

I stumble through
the dream's labyrinth

and finally land on
my own two feet

arriving in
my own reality

with dream remnants
clinging to me.

"Is this the eyelash
of Shakespeare?"

"Cleopatra used hippo dung
as a face mask?"

"The oldest goldfish
lived to the ripe old age of 43."

Yesterday's morning TV is
alas still alive within me.

I listen to
"My tears in blue paint."

I groggily stir the porridge
and make a weak cup of Earl Grey.

Wot? Me!
"Ní fhaca  mé aon rud ar bith!"

I'm from Pennsylvania and its broken landscapes
Trees scale the sky with branches that don't end
Eggs crackle on the stove of your favorite diner, sunny side up
It's always sunny in Philadelphia
It's always rainy in the suburbs because the grass needs it
Or so dad says

I come from a place of constant decay
Historical avenues, local produce that actually goes 'vrot'
The leaves litter the earth but we litter it more
Old books decompose in desolate buildings and old art hears less footsteps as each season violently meets its end

It's cold now and the landscape is stiff
Imagine being so cold you just drop everything
Our trees do that
Like magic, or like troubled vagabonds
But imagine being so cold it brings happiness to your bones
Because home is ears flushed red and fingertips blue
Home is sweet strawberries in the summer and sweet suffering in the winter

Pennsylvania is a polarized wreck just like the rest of us
It's chipped right at the lip but it's still the mug that fits best in a calloused hand
It's clay and mud and d irty water and rud
Fields of corn and grain, apple orchards and more rain
But its the filth we dance in, the mud for our pies and the apples for our eyes

Memories stay behind as the shapes of clouds in those boundless skies
Berry stained fingertips graze their outlines
Haystacks beckon you to stay because
Pennsylvania provokes the hardest goodbyes

Will the moment comes when we will be together,
arm in arm, embraced as we dance until the morning?

Listening to the songs of the western ocean;
a kiss upon my cheek while on you, my sacred colors adorning.

We embrace and reflect on the first glance of each others' eyes
While the earth below us is illuminated by endless, starry skies.

I never want this moment to end; entwined by land and sea.
I will bless the very day you first glanced at me.

And if the sun fades forever, and our souls become blue,
In this world or in the next, I swear, I will never abandon you.

///

An tig am mionaid nuair a bhios sinn còmhla;
gàirdean air a ghabhail a-steach agus sinn a 'dannsa gu madainn?

Ag èisteachd ri caol a 'chuain an iar;
pòg air mo ghruaidh, fhad 's a tha e ort, mo dhathan naomh a' sgeadachadh.

Bidh sinn a 'gobhail ri agus meòrachadh air a 'chiad sealladh de shùilean a chèile
tha an talamh gu h-ìosal air a shoilleireachadh le speuran gun stad.

Chan eil mi a-riamh ag iarraidh gun tig an ire seo gu crìch, air a cheangle le fearann is muir
Beannaichidh mi an dearbh latha a choimead thu orm an toiseach

Agus ma tha a 'ghrian a' dol fodha gu bràth agus ar n-anaman a' 'fas gorm
Anns an t-saoghal seo no an ath rud, tha mi a 'mionnachadh cha trèig mi thu gu bràth