Poetry in Motion

Poetry in Motion

In 2023, Ireland celebrates 50 years of membership of the European Union. To mark this important anniversary the European Parliament Liaison Office and the European Commission in Ireland invited Poetry Ireland to curate a selection of contemporary European poetry to be displayed on Iarnrod Eireann DART and commuter services throughout summer 2023. Each of the twelve poems was selected with the 2023 Poetry Day Ireland theme “Message in a Bottle” in mind. The theme reminds us, in the words of Paul Celan, that “a poem can be a message in a bottle, sent out in the – not always greatly hopeful – belief that somewhere and sometime, it could wash up on land, on heartland perhaps”.

The idea of a poem as message in a bottle reminds us that no poem is an island, it needs a reader to complete the process. Poems are waiting for the reader to uncork the bottle and rediscover the poem, experience that intimate connection across oceans, and miles, real and metaphorical. A poem must be compact to float within the walls of its container, yet the possibilities are miraculously endless, it’s a song but it can also tell a story or a joke, paint a picture, bring news, pass on wisdom, give shelter, advice or knowledge, travel time, praise, lament or incant – the reader just needs to open that bottle.

Displaying poems from across the EU on public transport enables the reader to, in a real sense, venture on a journey with the poem. Each poem speaks to the theme of “Message in a Bottle” at a time when across Europe, citizens value, more than ever, the sense of identity and community embodied by the EU. Poems written in languages which are not familiar to us throw up intriguing and interesting ideas and ways of seeing the world. Irish and English translations of each poem brings them full circle and enables us to access new poets and perspectives as we go about our daily business.

Poetry in Motion Poets

Poets whose work features in Poetry In Motion are:

Madara Gruntmane (Latvia)

Jakub Kornhauser (Poland)

Aleš Šteger (Slovenia)

Doris Kareva (Estonia)

Viviana Fiorentino (Italy)

Yevgeniy Breyger (German / Ukrainian)

Ada Salas (Spain)

Charlotte Van den Broeck (Belgium)

Sylva Fischerová (Czech Republic)

Valérie Rouzeau (France)

Ailbhe Ni Ghearbhuigh (Ireland)

Thomas Venclova (Lithuania)

Poetry Ireland would like to thank Centre Culturel Irlandais (and FICEP), Paris; Haus Für Poesie, Berlin, publishers including Bloodaxe Books, Dedalus Press, The Gallery Press and European networks such as Transpoesie for their support with Poetry in Motion.

Colm Breathnach translated each poem into Irish.

Yevgeniy Breyger

Yevgeniy Breyger was born in Charkow, Ukraine and moved to Magdeburg, Germany with his family in 1999. He studied Creative Writing and Cultural Journalism at the University of Hildesheim, Literature Writing at the Deutsches Literaturinstitut (German Literature Institute) in Leipzig, and Curatorial Studies at the Hochschule für Bildende Künste – Städelschule (Academy of Fine Arts Städelschule) in Frankfurt am Main.

Breyger’s work has been published in magazines and anthologies such as Jahrbuch der Lyrik, Lyrik von jetzt 3, Bella triste, and Edit. He was an editor of Tippgemeinschaft, the annual anthology of the students at the Deutsches Literaturinstitut, and the anthology Ansicht der leuchtenden Wurzeln von unten (poetenladen, 2017). Breyger is a member of the poets’ collective Salon Fluchtentier. He lives and works in Frankfurt.

Poem from Peace without War (kookbooks, 2023)

Translated from the German by Alexander Kappe

Arna aistriú ón nGearmáinis ag Colm Breathnach

Reproduced by kind permission of the author and publisher

Tiere Kennen den Weg

liebes tagebuch, liebes nachtbuch, liebes morgen- und  abendbuch lieber morgen, der erscheint wie eine blüte des  walnussbaums du brauchst erholung, ich gebe dir ein rotes etwas auf meinen lippen landet eine durch die luft segelnde frage weil zeit überaus fein den abstand vermisst zwischen

erscheinen und entschuldung, aber ich will dir erzählen von meinem kopf ich verstehe ihn nicht, ich spaziere endlich die eigene

fremdheit

schneller kniefall, leichtes erbarmen, der abstand wächst lautes entwaffnendes schweigen, augenlider, die verhüllen das ist es gewesen, rufst du zu, aber wir tauschen

die plätze#

Animals Know the Way

dear diary, dear night-book, dear morning- and evening-book dear morning that appears like a blossom of the walnut tree you need rest, I give you a red something a question lands on my lips, sailing through the air since time measures distance between appearing and debt

relieving exceedingly subtle, but I want to tell you about my head I don’t understand it, I stroll the own strangeness finally quick genuflection, light mercy, the distance grows loud disarming silence, eyelids that veil that’s been it, you call out, but we switch places#

Tá fios an bhealaigh ag na hainmhithe

a chín lae dhil, a chín oíche dhil, a chín maidine agus

tráthnóna dhil

a mhaidin dhil a bhfuil cuma bhláth an chrainn gallchnó ort tá scíth de dhíth ort, tugaim duit rud dearg éigin tuirlingíonn ceist a sheol tríd an aer ar mo bheola mar tomhaiseann an t-am an t-achar idir dealramh agus

leithscéal

le caolchúis neamhcheart, ach teastaíonn uaim labhairt leat  faoi mo chloigeann

ní thuigim é, táim ag siúl feadh m’aiteachta féin ar deireadh feacadh mear glúine, trua éadrom, fásann an t-achar ciúnas callánach mealltach, mogaill súile gur folach iad sin é é, a scairteann tú, ach malartaímid ionaid

Charlotte Van den Broeck

Charlotte Van den Broeck (Turnhout, Belgium,1991) studied English and German Literature and holds a Master in Drama (Verbal Arts) at the Royal Conservatoire  in Antwerp. She has published two collections of poetry. Her debut collection Chameleon (2015) was awarded the Herman de Coninck debut Prize for poetry. For her second collection Nachtroer (2017) she received the triannual Paul Snoek  Prize for the best collection of poetry in Dutch. Her poetry has been translated into German, French, Spanish, Afrikaans, Serbian and English.

Poem from Chameleon | Nachtroer (Bloodaxe Books, 2020)

Translated from the Dutch by David Colmer

Arna aistriú òn Ollainis ag Colm Breathnach

Reproduced by kind permission of the author and publisher

Drift

En nog een uur en nog en nog geen ochtend

tegen het raam één of andere zachte regen daarachter het erste verkeer, het ruisen rond me zwelt op tot een nieuw ruimte, kant en klare oceaan zoals ze klinkt op relaxatie-cd’s: het omgeeft je volledig dan maakt het licht de kamer leeg.

en het heeft veel weg van overleven: alles een tijdstip en een grondgebied willen geven mensen een bevattelijke fysica

een schuifspanning bijvoorbeeld

zoals wind bij het schuren over een wateroppervlak deeltjes verplaatst en dat het achteraf niet eens uitmaakt het volume hetzelfde gebleven, het blauw zonder schakering

Feiten worden altijd door structuren ingehaald, ’s ochtends de tanden tot grind gebeten, de mond leeg van verweer

en ik heb het geprobeerd vannacht de vissen op de just weer in het water geprobeerd de vissen terug en in leven te gooien en weer de vissen weer in leven in het water te gooien dat heb ik geprobeerd

Drift

One more hour and one more and one more and still no morning

some kind of gentle rain on the window beyond it the first traffic, the rustling around me swelling into a new space, an instant ocean sounding like the sea on relaxation CDs: surrounding you completely until light empties the room

and it almost seems like surviving: wanting to give everything a territory and a time people, intelligible physics

shear for instance the way wind scouring the surface of the water moves particles and later it doesn’t even matter the volume unchanged, not patterning the blue

facts are always overtaken by structures, the teeth ground to grit of a morning, the mouth emptied of pleas

and last night I did try to throw the fish on the beach back into the water I tried to throw them back and into life and again to throw the fish back into life in the water I tried.

Síobadh

Uair a chloig agus ceann eile agus ceann eile agus fós níl sé ina mhaidin

beagán fearthainne réidhe ar an bhfuinneog taobh thiar di an chéad trácht, an sioscadh thart orm ag at isteach i spás nua, aigéan réamhdhéanta ar nós ghlór na farraige ar CDanna scíthe: timpeall ort go hiomlán nó go bhfolmhaíonn an solas an seomra

agus is geall le teacht slán é: ag iarraidh talamh agus tráth a thabhairt do gach ní fisic intuigthe don nduine

strus fiartha cuir i gcás an tslí go ndeineann an ghaoth, ag sciúradh harr an uisce di, cáithníní a bhogadh agus dá éis sin gur cuma sa tsioc má tá an toirt gan athrú, murar fágadh gréasán ar an ngorm

sáraíonn struchtúir ar na fíricí i gcónaí, na fiacla meilte ina ngrean ar maidin, an uile phléadáil glanta as an mbéal

agus cinnte dheineas iarracht aréir na héisc ar an dtráigh a chaitheamh ar ais san uisce,  dheineas iarracht iad a chaitheamh ar ais agus isteach sa bheatha agus arís

iad a chaitheamh ar ais isteach sa bheatha san uisce, dheineas iarracht

Viviana Fiorentino

Viviana Fiorentino is originally from Italy and lives in Belfast. Her poems appeared in anthologies (Dedalus Press, Salmon Poetry, Arlen House), magazines (i.e. The Stinging Fly) and on air for RTÉ 1. They were recorded for the Irish Poetry Reading Archive (UCD). She translated Irish poet Freda Laughton into Italian (Arcipelago Itaca Press, bilingual Ed.). In Italy, she published a novel and two poetry collections. She is one of the winners of the 2022 Irish Chair Of Poetry Student Prize. Viviana is Language Project Artist for Quotidian – Word On the Street and is supported by a SIAP grant founded by the ACNI. She is a board member of the Irish PEN and Le Ortique, an initiative to rediscover forgotten women artists.

Poem from Blackbird Anthology curated by Wendy Erskine & Denise Riley (Seamus Heaney Centre, 2022)

Translated from the Italian by Viviana Fiorentino

Arna aistriú ón Iodálach ag Colm Breathnach

Reproduced by kind permission of the author and publisher

Una nuova lingua

Una mattina di fine marzo cambiammo pelle sotto il sole e il volo di una beccaccia di mare, un colpo d’ala ci fece guardare il mare grigio azzurro, sospeso come se il mondo alle spalle svanisse, edredoni nel blu e uno stormo di pavoncelle nella nebbia   lontana

si librò nell’aria come se le volte della terra crollassero.

Ali bianche come stelle su un blu cobalto, annidavano i loro movimenti una nuova lingua

Tutto si ritrae silenziosamente, le lacrime si sciolgono, il respiro del mondo torna consueto.

Il dolore con il suo involucro scivolano via, ogni essere annega per l’altro, giù nell’Ade d’ognuno, un muto occhio nero scompare nel bagliore di un riflesso.

A New Language

One late March morning, we shed our skin under the sun and a flight of an oystercatcher, a stagger of a wing made us look at the grey blue sea, suspended as if the world at the back faded, eiders on the blue and a flock of lapwings in the distant mist soared into the air as if the vaults of the land collapsed. Starry white wings on a cobalt blue, their movements nesting a new language. Silently everything recoils, tears are gone, the breathing of the world is back to normal. Sorrow and its wrapping are abandoned, every being has drowned for the other, down to a Hades, a mute black eye disappearing in a gleam of a reflection.

Teanga Nua

Maidin i ndeireadh mhí an Mhárta, faoin ngréin chuireamar ár gcraiceann agus thug eitilt roilligh, buille eite, orainn féachaint ar an muir ghlasghorm, ina stad faoi mar gur imigh an domhan ar a cúl as amharc, éadair sa ghorm agus ealta pilibínímíog sa cheo i gcéin ag eitilt os ard faoi mar a bheadh boghtaí na talún ag   tabhairt uathu.

Sciatháin bhána amhail réalta ar an ngorm cóbailt, a gcuid luaile ag neadú teanga nua.

Cúbann an uile ní go ciúin, leánn na deora, tagann anáil an domhain ar ais ina ceart arís.

Éalaíonn an brón gona thruaill leo, báitear gach éinne ar son a chéile thíos i Háidéas gach éinne, imíonn súil dhubh bhalbh as radharc i laom dalltach scáile frithchaite.

Sylva Fischerová

Sylva Fischerová (born 1963) is one of the most formidable Czech poets of her generation. Daughter of a non-Marxist philosopher whose works were banished under the communist régime, she is a distinguished classicist who teaches at Charles University in Prague and writes poetry with a vivid imagination as well as an historical reach. She has published eleven volumes of poems in Czech as well as short stories, novels, books for children and essays. Her works have been translated and published in numerous languages. Three selections of her poems appeared in English: The Tremor of Racehorses (Bloodaxe Books, 1990); The Swing in the Middle of Chaos: Selected Poems (Bloodaxe Books, 2010); Stomach of the Soul (Calypso Editions, 2014). From 2018 to 2020 she was the first City Poet of Prague.

Poem from The Swing in the Middle of Chaos: Selected Poems (Bloodaxe Books, 2009)

Translated from the Czech by Stuart Friebert and the author

Arna aistriú ón tSeicis ag Colm Breathnach

Reproduced by kind permission of the author and publisher

Cesta Nikam

Mlčívali jsme v tramvajích

cestou kolem ohrad z vlnitého plechu

sami kolotající drogerie špatných úmyslů

a dobrých nápadů

na cestě Nikam

Tam stál chrám Techniky

z novinového papíru

s okny z lepenky

s věží ze sirek

s oltářem Industrie odkud se lily všechny alkoholy –

vzduchem poletovali

Andělé pitvornosti, pili vodku

a přikusovali kadidlo revoluce.

To smrdělo jak konec prázdnin.

Je toto člověk? Je toto Bůh?

Bydlela tam ještě Poezie

lila se z bledých střev města

za ní jsme běhali

smečka zoufalců a čekatelů –

prodrat se průrvou okoličnatého času

konečně za slova, pryč, tam kde jsi vypálen, vykoupán, navždy ocejchován

a z cejchu vzlínají

všechny otázky!

The Road to Nowhere

We were silent in the trams passing by yards fenced in grooved metal our heads a seething pharmacy of bad intentions and good ideas on the road to Nowhere. There was the Temple of Technology made of newspapers, its windows millboard, the tower of matches, and the altar of Industry from which all liquors poured down –The Angels of Odd floated in the air, drinking vodka, biting into the incense of revolution. It smelled like the end of the holiday. Is this a man? Is this a God? But still, Poetry lived there, shedding from the pale intestines of the city. We ran after her, a pack of desperates and expectants, scraping through the ravine of an umbel time –behind the words, where you’re burned out, bathed, forever branded, and from the brand all questions rise!

An Bóthar Nach dTéann Aon Áit

D’fhanamar ciúin ar na tramanna dúinn ag dul thar chlóis na bhfálta iarainn rocaigh ár gcloigne ina gcógaslanna ar coipeadh le droch-intinn agus dea-smaointe ar an mbóthar nach dtéann aon áit b’in Teampall na Teicneolaíochta déanta as nuachtáin

gona fhuinneoga cairtchláir agus a thúr as lasáin agus altóir na Tionsclaíochta

gur shil an uile shaghas alcóil anuas de –bhí Aingil na hAiteachta ar foluain san aer ag ól vodca, ag baint plaic as túis na réabhlóide.

Bhí boladh ar nós dheireadh na saoire as. An duine é seo? An Dia é seo?

Ach fós, bhí an Fhilíocht ag cur fúithi ann í ag sileadh as ionathar bán na cathrach.

Ritheamar ina diaidh paca éadóchasach tnúthánach –ag sleamhnú trí altán an ama mórthimpeall taobh thiar de na focail mar a ndéantar tú a dhó, a fholcadh agus a bhrandáil go deo agus is as an mbranda a éiríonn an uile cheist!

Ailbhe Ní Ghearbhuigh

Ailbhe Ní Ghearbhuigh is an Irishlanguage poet. Her books include Péacadh, (Coiscéim 2008), Tost agus Allagar (Coiscéim, 2016) and a bilingual collection The Coast Road (The Gallery Press, 2016). Cois Life published her translations from the French of Andrée Chedid as part of the ‘File ar Fhile’ series in 2019. She is a recipient of the Michael Hartnett Award and the Lawrence O’Shaughnessy Award for Poetry. A graduate of NUI Galway, where she earned a PhD in Irish Studies. Now based in Cork city, she lectures in Modern Irish at UCC.

Poem from The Coast Road (The Gallery Press, 2016)

Translated from the Irish by Justin Quinn

Reproduced by kind permission of the author and publisher

Bóín Dé

Bóín Dé, mar atá sa Rúisis, Божья-Коровка; lieveheersbeestje san Ollainnis, ‘ainmhín ár nDé’.

Is le Maois, agus ní le Dia í, de réir na nGiúdach; bóín Mhuire sa Ghearmáin, seacht spota dá seacht lúcháir, dá seacht mbrón.

Tarraingíonn sí an t-ádh ar dhaoine sa Tuirc is san Iodáil.

Lorgaímid go léir mianta ár gcroí is ár mbéal ón mBóín Dé.

Conas a iompraíonn neach chomh bídeach ualach ár dtola

agus é fós ar a chumas eitilt?

Ladybird

Little cow of God, as it is in Russian, Божья-Коровка; in Dutch, lieveheersbeestje ‘little animal of our God.’

She belongs to Moses and not to God, according to Jewish tradition; little cow of Mary in Germany –seven spots for her seven joys, her seven sorrows.

She brings luck to people in Turkey and in Italy.

We all seek to have our wishes fulfilled by the little cow of God.

How does a creature so tiny heft the weight of our wishes and still be able to fly?

Connecting People and Poetry

Madara Gruntmane

Madara Gruntmane (1981) is a poet and recipient of 2015 Latvian Literature

Readers’ Choice Award for her book Narkozes (Narcoses) and of the 2019 Public Broadcasting Award for her second poetry volume Dzērājmeitiņa (Drunk Daddy’s Girl). Her third book Aizmīlestība (Afterlove) was published in 2022. She has been invited in several international literary festivals. She works with creative collectives to produce cultural art events throughout Latvia. She has been awarded as the Honorary Writing Fellowship at Iowa University’s International Writing Program (IWP).

Poem from Narcoses (Parthian Books, 2019)

Translated by from Latvian by Richard O’Brien and Mārta Ziemelis

Arna aistriú ón Laitvis ag Colm Breathnach

Reproduced by kind permission of the author and publisher

Nekādu izmaiņu.

Tā tikai izskatās

Mierīgi pulsē elpa tava

Krītoša sniega ritmā

Ir sasodīti karsts

Oktobra vidus

Nav gadalaiku

Elpa tava

Iegulstas

Lapās puspuvušajās

Nekādu izmaiņu

Tā tikai izskatās

Nothing Changes. It only looks that way

The calm pulse of your breath like the rhythm of falling snow

Shh shh shh

It’s damn hot for mid-October

Shh shh shh

There are no seasons

Your breath

Shh shh shh sinks into the half-rotted leaves

Shh shh shh

Nothing changes

It only looks that way

Shh shh shh

Ní athraíonn aon rud. Níl ann ach gur cosúil go ndeineann

Cuisle shocair d’anála

Amhail rithim thitim an tsneachta

Sis sis sis

Tá sé damanta te Do lár Dheireadh Fómhair

Sis sis sis

Níl aon séasúir ann

Tá d’anáil

Sis sis sis

Báite

Sna duilleoga leathlofa

Sis sis sis

Ní athraíonn aon rud

Níl ann ach gur cosúil go ndeineann

Sis sis sis

Doris Kareva

Doris Kareva is one of Estonia’s leading poets. She has worked for the cultural weekly Sirp (Sickle) and as the SecretaryGeneral of the Estonian National Commission for UNESCO from 1992 to 2008, and is currently an editor for the literary journal Looming (Creation).

Following the restoration of Estonian independence, Kareva’s collection In Place of the World received the national cultural prize in 1993. She used the prize money to set up the ‘Straw Stipend’ for the publication of debut collections. Kareva has published 15 collections of poetry, a collection of essays and a work of prose. She has also translated poetry and plays, essays and prose. She has compiled anthologies, written texts for music and theatre, and given lectures on culture, education and ethics in Estonia and abroad. Her poetry has been translated into over 20 languages and has inspired composers and directors in Estonia and abroad. Kareva has been honoured with two national cultural prizes and four literary prizes; in 2001 she was awarded the Estonian Order of the White Star.

From Days of Grace (Bloodaxe Books, 2018)

Translated from Estonian by Miriam McIlfatrick-Ksenofontov

Arna aistriú ón Eastóinis ag Colm Breathnach

Reproduced by kind permission of the author and publisher

Elul ei ole lugu

Elul ei ole lugu, elu on loomine.

Kas on nii, et me saame kõik, mida soovime?

Kas on nii, et me saame kõik nagu pälvime?

Kas on nii, et meid tabab kõik, mida väldime?

Aeg, sina üürikene ja üllatuslooline –

elu ei ole lugu, vaid lootus ja loomine.

Life Has No Story

Life has no story,  life is unfolding.

Is it true that we get  all that we wish?

Is it true that we get  all as we deserve?

Is it true that we are caught  by all we evaded?  Time, you fleeting  and far-fetching thing –  life is no story,  but hope and honing.

Ní Scéal é an Saol

Ní scéal é an saol, is cruthú é an saol.

An fíor go bhfaighimid an uile ní is mian linn?

An fíor go bhfaighimid an uile ní atá ag dul dúinn?

An fíor go dtagann gach ar sheachnaíomar suas linn?

A Am, is eachtra iontais éalaitheach tú–

Ní haon scéal é an saol, ach dóchas agus cruthú.

Jakub Kornhauser

Jakub Kornhauser (1984) a Polish poet, essayist and translator. He works at the Jagiellonian University as a literature specialist and founded the Centre of Studies of the AvantGarde there. He is the author and editor of more than a dozen works and the editor of several periodicals and editorial series. He translates avant-garde literature from French, Romanian and Serbian into Polish. In 2016, he was awarded the Wisława Szymborska prize for his collection Drożdżownia. He has recently published a collection of essays entitled Wolność krzepi (2018) as well as the monograph Awangarda. Strajki, zakłócenia, deformacje (2017). He lives in Krakow.

From Prose Poems (kulturaupodstaw.pl, 2022)

Translated from Polish by Piotr Florczyk

Arna aistriú ón bPolainnis ag Colm Breathnach

Reproduced by kind permission of the author and publisher

Wiersz o pamieci

Należy postępować według załączonej instrukcji. Nie do końca jest ona jasna. Przecież pamięć nie przypomina pralki, lodówki albo regału z ikei. Pamięć wymaga serdeczności i czystego powietrza. Dlatego łatwiej dba się o wspomnienia na Bermudach niż w Europie Środkowej. Dopiero z trawą morską w ustach pamięta się elegancko.

Poem About Remembrance

One must proceed according to the manual. Not all of it is entirely clear. After all memory doesn’t resemble a washing machine, refrigerator, or an Ikea shelving unit. Memory requires kindness and clean air. Hence, it’s easier to care for memories in Bermuda than in Eastern Europe. It’s only with seagrass in the mouth that one remembers elegantly.

Dán Faoin gCuimhne

Ní mór déanamh de réir na dtreoracha atá faoi cheangal. Níl sé go léir iomlán soiléir. Tar éis an tsaoil, ní hionann an chuimhne agus meaisín níocháin, cuisneoir nó aonad seilfeanna ó Ikea. Ní foláir cairdiúlacht agus aer glan don chuimhne. Sin an chúis gur fusa cúram a dhéanamh do chuimhní i mBeirmiúda ná i Lár na hEorpa. Le féar mara sa bhéal amháin is ea a dhéantar an cuimhneamh a thabhairt i gcrích go slachtmhar.

Valérie Rouzeau

Valérie Rouzeau was born in 1967 in Burgundy, France, and now lives in Nevers. She has published fourteen poetry titles, including Pas revoir (le dé bleu, 1999), Va où (Le temps qu’il fait, 2002) and more recently Quand Je Me Deux (Le temps qu’il fait, 2009) and Vrouz (La Table ronde, 2012). She has also published volumes translated from Sylvia Plath, William Carlos Williams, Ted Hughes, Stephen Romer and the photographer Duane Michals. She has been the editor of a little review of poetry for children called dans la lune, and lives mainly by her pen through public readings, poetry workshops in schools, radio broadcasts and translation.

Poem from Sens Averse (La Table Ronde, 2018)

Translated from the French by Susan Wicks

Arna aistriú ón bhFraincis ag Colm Breathnach

Reproduced by kind permission of the author and publisher

Albatross

What’s in a bird un albatros mort sur une plage

What’s in a bird nombreux pas une chanson volage

Mais bouchons de bouteilles sans message de l’oiseau

Coca fanta soda du zéro sucre sans joie

Des pailles comme s’il y avait la mer à siroter

Des morceaux de poupées barbies pas de musique

Des perles de toutes tailles et couleurs en plastoc

Des cartes suscriber identity module

Des chewing-gums des codes-barres des branches

de lunettes noires

Des tubes de rouge à lèvres et des capotes anglaises

Peut-être aussi un peu d’une tortue médusée

(Une tortue confondant sac plastique et méduse)

What’s in a bird échoué sur le sable mauvais

Du temps atroce qu’il fait – l’oiseau actualisé.

Albatross

What’s in a bird a dead albatross on a beach

What’s in a bird so many not a brief snatch of song

But bottle tops no message from the bird

Just coke and fanta diet soda no joy there

A slew of straws as if the sea were ours to suck

Pieces of broken barbie dolls no music

Beads all sizes colours made of plastic

Cards subscription ID phone-cards SIM

And chewing-gum barcodes twigs of sunglasses

Tubes of lipstick and french letters maybe

A bit of hardened shell-shocked turtle

(One that took a plastic bag for living jelly)

What’s in a bird washed up on the foul sand

Of the dreadful times we live in – an updated bird.

Albatras

What’s in a bird albatras marbh ar thráigh

What’s in a bird an oiread sin nach amhrán aerach é

Ach barra buidéil gan teachtaireacht ón éan

Coke agus Fanta, sóid gan siúcra, gan lúcháir

Soip óil amhail is gur deoch dúinne an fharraige

Giotaí de bhábóga briste Barbie gan cheol

Coirníní den uile mhéid is dath déanta de phlaisteach

Cártaí síntiúis is aitheantais, cártaí fóin SIM

Agus barrachóid guma choganta, géaga spéaclaí gréine

Baitíní béaldatha agus coiscíní

B’fhéidir, leis, cuid de thurtar mearaithe

(Ceann a shíl gur smugairle róin mála plaisteach)

What’s in a bird tagtha i dtír ar ghaineamh ghránna

Na linne lofa ina mairimid – éan uasdátaithe.

Ada Salas

Ada Salas (Cáceres, Spain, 1965)

graduated in Spanish Philology at University of Extremadura. In 1987

she was awarded the Juan Manuel Rozas poetry prize for her book Arte y memoria del inocente (1988). Her book Variaciones en blanco (1994) was awarded the 9th Hiperión Prize. In 1997 she published La sed and in 2003 Lugar de la derrota (both by Hiperión publishing house). On the same year Noticia de la luz was released by Escuela de Arte de Mérida. In 2005 she published the narrative compilation Alguien aquí. Notas acerca de la escritura poética (Hiperión). In 2008

her book Esto no es el silencio (Hiperión) was awarded the 15th Ricardo Molina – Ciudad de Córdoba prize. In 2010 she published Ashes to Ashes in collaboration with painter Jesús Placencia (by Editora Regional de Extremadura). In 2011 her essay El margen, el error, la tachadura. Notas acerca de la escritura poética (Diputación de Badajoz) was publised and awarded the Fernando Pérez Essay Prize 2010.

Poem from Arquelogías (Pre-Textos, 2022)

Translated from the Spanish by Lucina Shell

Arna aistriú ón Spáinnis ag Colm Breathnach

Reproduced by kind permission of the author

Perseidas

Dices que no lo crees pero anoche –el brillo interminable de lo que se calcina–. Puedes ver esa luz. No existe pero aún atraviesa tu mente una flor extinguida en su fuego.

Perseids

YOU say you don’t believe it but last night you saw it in the sky –the flash unending of what scorches–. You can see that light. It doesn’t exist but still traverses your mind a flower extinguished in its fire.

Na Peirsidí

Deir tú

nach gcreideann tú é ach aréir go bhfaca tú é sa spéir

gealán

síoraí an ní atá loiscneach. Is féidir leat an solas sin a fheiscint. Ní hann dó ach fós féin téann sé trasna d’intinne bláth arna mhúchadh ina thine.

Aleš Šteger

Aleš Šteger was born in 1973 in Ptuj (p-too-ee), Slovenia, where he grew up, then part of the former Yugoslavia ruled by Tito, which gained its independence when he was 18. He published his first collection in 1995 at the age of 22, and was immediately recognised as a key voice in the new generation of postCommunist poets not only in Slovenia but throughout central Europe.

He has published nine books of poetry, three novels and two books of essays. A Chevalier des Artes et Lettres in France and a member of the Berlin Academy of Arts, he received the 1998 Veronika Prize for the best Slovenian poetry book, the 1999 Petrarch Prize for young European authors, the 2007 Rožanc Award for the best Slovenian book of essays, the 2016 International Bienek Prize and the 2022 International Spycher Prize. His work has been translated into over 15 languages, including Chinese, German, Czech, Croatian, Hungarian, and Spanish.

From Burning Tongues: New and Selected Poems (Bloodaxe Books, 2022)

Translated from Slovenian by Brian Henry

Arna aistriú ón tSlóivéinis ag Colm Breathnach

Reproduced by kind permission of the author and publisher

Gospodarjevi pajki okrog naju  Spletajo brezžično mrežo.

Nekdo na drugem kontinentu  Na skrivaj prebira najine misli.

Skozi vrata se nič ne vidi.  V temi sva manjša od mušic.

Moje dlani sežejo za tabo,  Utonejo v zastrto ogledalo.

Ko te končno dosežem,   Objamem ves svet.

The master’s spiders are weaving   A wireless network around us.

Someone on another continent  Secretly reads our thoughts.

Through the door nothing is visible.  In the dark we are smaller than gnats.

My palms reach for you,  Sink into a veiled mirror.

When I finally reach you,  I embrace the whole world.

Tá damháin alla an mháistir ag fí Líonra gan sreanga inár dtimpeall.

Tá duine éigin ar ilchríoch eile Ag léamh ar ár smaointe os íseal.

Níl aon rud le feiscint tríd an ndoras. Is lú sinn ná corrmhíolta sa dorchacht.

Sínim mo dhearnana faoi do choinne, Téann siad á mbá i scáthán folaithe.

Nuair a shroichim tú ar deireadh, Beirim barróg ar an ndomhan uile.

Tomas Venclova

Tomas Venclova, born in Klaipėda (Lithuania) in 1937, is a Lithuanian poet and essayist. He emigrated from Lithuania (then occupied by the USSR) in 1977 as a member of the dissident movement. He taught Russian, Polish and Lithuanian literature at Yale University for many years, and is now a Professor Emeritus of Slavic Languages and Literatures there. A winner of several national and international prizes, he has published more than fifty books (his poetry, written exclusively in Lithuanian, has been translated into twentyodd  languages, including English, Gaelic, French, German, Italian, Swedish, Polish, Russian, Chinese, Japanese, etc.).

From The Junction: Selected Poems

Translated from Lithuanian by Ellen Hinsey (Bloodaxe Books, 2008)

Reproduced by kind permission of the author and publisher

Ormond Quay  for Seamus Heaney

Okeano garai, sutirštėję balandžio Dubline,  girdo mūrus, granitą, minkština kėbulo dervą.

Iš vagos išsprūdęs vanduo apnuogino dumbliną kibią plynę po tiltais, tarytum atgniaužtą delną.

Šioj purvynų šaly, patyrusioj maištą ir badmetį,  vos prieš dvidešimt metų tuščioj nelyginant Liffey,  krovininių mašinų trinksėjimo brėkštant išbudinti  atspėjam, jog srautas vėl siekia buvusį lygį –

tiksliau, jį pranoksta. Žuvėdra sukrykus įlekia  pakhauzų spragon. Grindiniai drėgni ir duobėti.

Kužda lapais, lašais, lėto laiko ląstelėmis įlanka  ties pilkuojančiu fortu. Ne mes ją išmokėm kalbėti.

Bronze by gold. Statūs laiptai, apkartusi duona, bet uždarbio  pakanka ilgam. Ties krantinės kerte atsidaro  išgarsėjus sirenių landynė. Migrantas paspringdamas užgeria  savo mirgantį dvynį už čiabuvių apgulto baro.

Jau vis viena, rusvoki šiaurės pelkynai ar mėlynas

krantas Jonijos jūroj, kurion įsipyko irkluoti.

Tarsi Kirkės patalas, plečias dėmėtas žemėlapis,  ir beglobė Europa rausias į šiurkščią paklodę.

—51—

Ormond Quay  for Seamus Heaney

The ocean mist, amassing in April above Dublin,   Moistens bricks, granite, the pitch-black of a car’s   Sheen. The tide-abandoned riverbed is silty, lays  Bare an expanse beneath bridges, empty like an

Open palm. This muddy island has known famine,   Mutiny. Twenty years ago was shallow as the Liffey,  Waking at dawn to the groaning din of the lorries,  But now the river’s high mark has been regained –

Or surpassed. A wailing seagull flies into a breach  Between warehouses. Pavements are cracked, damp.

By the castle, the bay whispers through raindrops,  Branches and time. But it’s not us who taught it speech.

Bronze by gold. The staircases are steep, bread bitter,  But the pay sustains. On the quay’s corner you sight  The famous siren’s den, fully packed, where a migrant  Poet drinks to his double’s reflection across the bar.

It’s all the same. The brown of northern marshes; the

Ionian shore’s blue towards which one wearies of rowing.

Like Circe’s bed the old rumpled map is expanding:

Homeless Europe buries itself in a course-grained sheet.

Colm Breathnach

File, úrscéalaí agus aistritheoir é Colm Breathnach. Bhuaigh sé an phríomhdhuais filíochta ag comórtais liteartha in Oireachtais ceithre huaire agus sa bhliain 1999 bhronn an Foras Cultúrtha Gael-Mheiriceánach ‘Duais an Bhuitléirigh’ air mar aitheantas ar a shaothar filíochta. I gcomhar leis an Dr. Andrea Nic Thaidhg, dhein sé aistriúchán ar an úrscéal Katz und Maus le Günter Grass faoin dteideal Cat agus Luch (Coiscéim, 2009). Bronnadh duais aitheantais speisialta ar an gcéad úrscéal aige Con Trick “An Bhalla Bháin” (Cló Iar-Chonnacht 2009) i gcomórtais an Oireachtais. Deineadh dánta leis a aistriú go Béarla, Gaeilge na hAlban, Gearmáinis, Iodáilis, Fraincis, Slóivéinis agus Sínis agus foilsíodh leagan Rómáinise dá chnuasach An Fear Marbh faoin dteideal Bărbatul fără viaţă (Ars Longa, Iasi, 1999). Dámhadh tréimhsí cónaithe scríbhneoireachta air i Shanghai agus sa tSlóivéin agus bhí sé ina scríbhneoir cónaitheach i gColáiste Phádraig, Ollscoil Bhaile Átha Cliath sa bhliain 2015. Foilsíodh an cnuasach is déanaí uaidh Tírdhreacha, rogha dánta agus dánta nua maille le saothar ealaíne le Pól Ó Colmáin, sa bhliain 2015.

Colm Breathnach is a poet, novelist and translator. He won the principal poetry prize at the annual Conradh na Gaeilge Oireachtas Literary Competitions on four occasions and the Irish American Cultural Institute presented him with the ‘Butler Prize’ in 1999 for his poetry. With Dr. Andrea Nic Thaidhg, he produced a translation of the Günter Grass novel Katz und Maus under the title Cat agus Luch (Coiscéim, 2009). His first novel, Con Trick “An Bhalla Bháin” (Cló Iar-Chonnacht 2009) was awarded a special recognition prize at the Oireachtas Literary Competitions.  He has had poems translated into English, Sottish Gaelic, German, Italian, French, Slovenian and Chinese and his collection An Fear Marbh appeared in a Romanian edition under the title Bărbatul fără viaţă (Ars Longa, Iasi, 1999). He has been awarded writing residencies in Shanghai and Slovenia and he was Irish-language Writer in Residence in St. Patrick’s College, Dublin City University, in 2015. His collection Tírdhreacha, new and selection poems with accompanying artwork by Pól Ó Colmáin, was published in 2015.

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