Photo by Wendy Scofield via Unsplash
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Our daily prompt asks us to “make use of today’s resource. Find a poem in a language that you don’t know, and perform a “homophonic translation” on it. What does that mean? Well, it means to try to translate the poem simply based on how it sounds. You may not wind up with a credible poem at the end, but this can be a fun way to step outside of your own mind for a bit, and develop a poem that speaks in a distinctive voice. ” ~ NaPoWriMo, Day 21
This prompt is an old friend of mine. My advisor in graduate school introduced it to our class and I used it with my students for many years after. I find that it frees me of logic and grammar constraints. It also manages to shut up the judges sitting on my shoulders, who usually roll their eyes at every word I write down. I worked on a homophonic translation from Irish today and will paste it below, followed by the original poem by Doireann Ní Ghríofa and its proper English translation.
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Poetry from the trenches, Day 21
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VOICE
No shutting
. of vocal cords,
of shrieking telephones, will undo absence.
I resign myself to red eyes,
. to thoughts on a loom
that focus my gaze on random things.
Can’t hide from it, you’re not. Again, the line lags
. between us and sleep severs
this timid fever
. as stupor
. arises
. is
. already here.
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GLAOCH
Ní cheanglaíonn
. aon chorda caol,
aon sreang theileafóin sinn níos mó.
I réimse na ríomhairí,
. ní thig liom
do ghuth a bhrú níos gaire do mo chluas.
Ní chloisim tú ag análú. Anois, ’sé an líne lag seo
. an t-aon cheangal amháin atá eadrainn
agus titimid
. as a chéile
. arís
. is
. arís eile.
.
CALL
No slender thread,
. no telephone cord
binds us anymore.
Now that our computers call each other,
. I can’t
press your voice to my ear.
No longer can I hear you breathe. Now, we are bound only
by a weak connection
and we break up
. and break up
. and break up.
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Oh my, I like what you did too but the original poem slapped me on the head. We did this so much, didn’t we, wrap ourselves around that cord… 😮 How things change.
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Yes, we did! So glad that’s in the past.
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It’s really amazing how you sensed the voice of this poem, the pain of absence. “No shutting/of shrieking telephones, will undo absence.” Truly spectacular, Romana! Love you surioara ❤️🐝🙏
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I think wherever there’s a telephone, there’s the possibility that someone might not answer it!🥰
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I love it! I think I had enough of a sense of German to figure some of it out, so I tried not to 😊
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I love them both,the lively freedom of yours and the poignancy of the original. But surely that’s Gaelic, not Welsh?
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Thank you for alerting me to my mistake–I’ll make the correction right away. I tried ‘translating’ from several languages and got confused.
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