All posts filed under: Translation

‘All The Worlds Between’; a collaborative poetry project between India and Ireland

All the Worlds Between is a collaborative poetry project bringing together poets from India, Ireland and in between. Their writing partnerships resulted in four strands—poems as conversations, poems at angles to one another, poems which speak out of turn to other poems in the group and, not surprisingly, stories of friendship.   The poets looked at questions of home, belonging, identity, exclusion and homogenisation. From conversations about shoes and what they evoke to exchanges about parents, poems responding to the transgender experience, to inward angled poems and even chain poems created stanza by stanza over email and WhatsApp, through all of these the poets found themselves eavesdropping on a collective consciousness, ears to the ground listening for the beat of life.   Contributing poets: Adil Jussawalla, Aditi Rao, Áine Ní Ghlinn, Alvy Carragher, Anne Tannam, Arundhathi Subramaniam, BeRn, Christine Murray, Claus Ankersen, Daniel Ryan, Fióna Bolger, Maurice Devitt, Menka Shivdasani, Nandini Sahu, Nita Mishra, Ӧzgecan Kesici, Rizio Yahannan Raj, Sampurna Chattarji, Shobhana Kumar, K. Srilata, Sue Butler, Swarnalatha Rangarajan, R. Vatsala.   Edited by K. …

Excerpts from ‘microliths’ by Paul Celan

from ‘Microliths’   161 Re­membering also pre­membering, pre­thinking and storing of what could be Yeats: I certainly owe more to that poet than to Fr. surreal. Strange. In front of a candle Now I tried to render visible the grain of sand (Buber, Chass. — //Nibelungens[on]g) that had to have been sunk into me too at some time. Mother, candles, sabbath But the poem lead me out of this idea, across to a new level with this idea 162 162.1 ­ It is part of poetry’s essential features that it releases the poet, its crown witness and confidant, from their shared knowledge once it has taken on form.  (If it were different, there would barely be a poet who could take on the responsibility of having written more than one poem.) 162.2 —Poetry as event Event = truth (“unhiddenness,” worked, fought for unhiddeness) Poetry as risk Creation = /power­activity /Gewalt­tätigkeit (Heidegger) Truth ≠ accuracy (­i­: consistency) –in each first word of a poem the whole of  language gathers itself — –handiwork: hand / think through connections such as “hand and …

“I’m not a city” and other poems by Kinga Fabó

The Transfiguration of the Word Open, the sea appeared asleep. Carrying its waves. A pulse under the muted winter scene. Throwing a smile on the beach. A nun-spot on the hot little body. A color on the broken glass. A gesture that was once closed. Lovely as the sea stood up. Throwing a smile on the beach. I wanted to remain an object. But, no, immortality is not mine. I am too strong to defend myself. Waiting for punishment. This and the same happened together. Silently, I sat in the glass. Only the spot wandered on the naked scene. Sounds did not continue. Only an omitted gesture. Happiness like an unmoving dancer. Beatings on naked, bony back. And the sea will no longer be immortal. Translated by Zsuzsanna Ozsváth and Martha Satz ‘The Transfiguration of the word ‘ was first published in Osiris, 1992, Fall issue Lovers You are free, said the stranger. Before I arrived there. Costume. I had a costume on though. I was curious: what his reaction might be? He closed his …

A celebration of women’s poetry for International Women’s Day 2017

Featured image from “The Infinite Body Of Sensation” by Salma Caller   Salma Ahmad Caller is an artist and a hybrid of cultures and faiths. She is drawn to hybrid and ornamental forms, and to how the body expresses itself in the mind to create an embodied ‘image’. UK based, she was born in Iraq to an Egyptian father and a British mother and grew up in Nigeria and Saudi Arabia. With a background in art history and theory, medicine and pharmacology, and several years teaching cross-cultural ways of seeing via non-Western artefacts at Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford, she now works as an independent artist and teacher. salma caller artists statement [PDF] “In the Glass Coffin” by Kim Myeong-sun Today, I withstood agony again, Because my life is still lingering, Trapped in scarcely visible sorrow. If my body is trapped Like the life of a dinky, dinky thing, What is with all this sorrow, this pain? Like the bygone prince, Who had loved the forbidden woman, I believed I would live if I danced in the …

“Pomegranate” and other poems by Kim Myeong-sun translated by Sean Jido Ahn

Pomegranate In autumn, even a tree sheds jewels on the street. A deeply buried heart may be fetching like this. Around this time, A bird shall pilot the life of a fragrant tree, Crossing the river with a seed in its beak, Passing the field of silvergrass on a mountain. My shallow roots, Which were swayed by no more than rain and wind, Have you ever borne a piece of ruby hot as blood? Without a jewel to pass on to a bird or a wind, I pass in front of a pomegranate tree. Whether I love or hate, Life merely flows. Toward where is life—an initiation ceremony—leading to? The heart too red to believe in an afterlife, The heart pecked by the bird! A Will Joseon*, when I part from you, Whether you knock me down by a creek Or yank my blood in the field, Abuse me more, even my dead corpse. If this is still not enough, Then abuse her as much as you can When someone like me is born henceforth. …