Irish Poetry Again
Tony Dermody
Kenneth F. Shilkun, some time ago, asked for some Irish poetry. One
of the poems which I posted in response was Seán O Ríordáin's 'Cúl an
Tí'. I expressed some dissatisfaction with David Marcus's translation
of it into English, and Karen E. Dennis pounced. She said that if I
was unhappy with the translation, then I should translate it myself!
Godddammmit!
Here it is then. Literary criticism of a high standard will be in
order.
Back of the House (The Tony Dermody translation)
At the back of the house is a land of youth,
A jumbled beautiful space among
The farmyard beasts unclothed, unshod,
Nor knowing the Irish or English tongue,
Walking the way.
Yet each one grows an ample cloak,
Where chaos is the heart of rule,
And in that land the language spoke
Was taught of old in Aesop’s school,
Long passed away.
Some hens are here, a chicken clutch,
A simple duck, though fixed of mind,
A big black dog with wicked looks
Barking loud like a good watch-hound,
A cat sun-baking;
There, a heap of bric-a-brac,
The cast-off treasure stuff of life,
A candlestick, buckles, an old straw hat,
A bugle quiet, and a kettle white
Like a goose waking.
Here the tinkers come uncouth,
Blessing generously all they see,
Feeling at home in the land of youth,
Seeking cast-off things for free,
All over Ireland.
I would go back in the dead of night,
The treasure gilded in the moonbeams’ reach,
Perhaps to see in the eerie light
The child-wise Aesop’s phantom teach
His ghostly learning.
And for those who have forgotten the original, here it is, followed by
David Marcus's translation.
Cúl An Tí (By Seán O Ríirdáin)
Tá Tír na nÓg ar chúl an tí,
Tír álainn trína chéile,
Lucht cheitre chos ag súil na slí,
Gan bróga orthu ná léine,
Gan Béarla acu ná Gaeilge.
Ach fásann clócha ar gach droim
Sa tír seo trína chéile,
Is labhartar teanga ar chúl an tí
Nár thuig aon fhear ach Aesop,
Is tá sé siúd sa chré anois.
Tá cearca ann is ál sicín,
Is lacha righin mhothaolach,
Is gadhar mór dubh mar namhaid sa tír
Ag drannadh le gach éinne,
Is cat ag crú na gréine.
Sa chúinne thiar tá banc dramhaíl,
Is iontaisi an tsaoil ann,
Coinnleoir, búclaí, seanhata tuí,
Is trúmpa balbh néata,
Is citeal bán mar gé ann.
Is ann a thagann tincéirí
Go naofa, trína chéile,
Tá gaol acu le chúl an tí,
Is bíd ag iarraidh déirce
Ar cúl gach tí in Éirinn.
Ba mhaith liom bheith ar chúl an tí
Sa doircheacht go déanach
Go bhfeicinn ann ar cuairt gealaí
An t-ollaimhín sin Aesop
Is é in phúca léannta.
The Back of the House (The David Marcus translation)
At the back of the house is Fairyland -
A lovely, anyhow place -
With four-footed creatures on every hand
Completely shoeless and shirtless,
Knowing no English nor Irish.
But on each one there grows a cloak -
In that anyhow place of places -
And back of the house a language is spoken
That no man could follow but Aesop,
And he's in his grave a long day now.
There are some hens there and a clutch of chickens,
And a duck like a simpleton,
And a big black dawg who raises the dickens
Barking at everyone,
And a cat milking the sun.
In that corner is a bank of Things Put Away and That's-That,
With its wonders unbelievable -
Wax candles, gold buckles, an old straw hat,
A trumpet, dumb without battle,
And, of all things, a white kettle.
There come the tinkers, kicking up no rows,
But saintly, like Simple-Simons,
They are one kin with the back of the house
And they come a-begging, their quiet hands
At the back of each house in Ireland.
At the back of the house I'd like to be
In the darkness, in the lateness,
And perhaps on his moonlit visit I'd see
Little professor Aesop
That knowledgeable fairy.
Tony Dermody
(Delete 'nodamnjunk.' from e-mail address to reply).
SPARK: http://www.iol.ie/~tdermody/index.html
Unfortunately, now somewhat out-of-date.
K. E. Dennis
As Tony Dermody was good enough to respond to my provocations concerning
translation by crafting a fine new English version of "Cúl an Tí," I thought
he deserved better than mere words of thanks.
& what could be more appropriate than another poem in Irish, she asks?
This is a great favourite of mine, & the first I ever heard recited in Irish -
years ago, by someone living here, one more soul drifting in the Irish
diaspora. Altho she had to translate it for us, it wasn't really necessary to
understand the words in order to feel their meaning.
Even all this time after, I cannot read this w/o remembering the great longing
in her voice. & it has been in my thoughts once more, of late....
Having lost track of it, I was greatly pleased when the poem turned up some
years later in _An Duanaire: Poems of the Dispossessed_ [pub. 1981, Bord na
Gaelige], translated/ edited by Seán Ó Tuama & Thomas Kinsella.
It's another classified as "traditional" - dating from sometime after 1600 - &
the author is Anonymous (her again!).
respectfully submitted,
|K.E. Dennis den...@mail.montclair.edu
|My employer is not responsible for my opinions,
|regardless of how sensible they are.
----------------
Is trua gan mise i Sasana
agus duine amháin as Éirinn liom,
nó amuigh i lár na farraige
in áit a gcailltear na milte long,
An ghaoth agus an fhearthainn
bheith 'mo sheoladh ó thoinn go tionn -
is, a Rí, go seola tú mise
ins an áit a bhfuil mo ghrá 'na luí.
----------------
I would I were in England
and one from Ireland with me
or out in the middle ocean
where a thousand ships are lost
with the tempest and the rain
driven from wave to wave -
o, drive me, King of Heaven,
to where my love lies down...
----------------
Gerard Cunningham
K. E. Dennis wrote:
>Tony, you've done a grand job here, no question. Your translation is both
>more melodious & considerably less twee that Marcus's - a pleasure to
>read. It well deserves a place of honour in the poetry archives of
>Partisan Cheese, IMHO. <w/ a humble curtsey in the direction of His
>Eminence>
Oops. I replaced the original with Tony's translation over a
fortnight ago, but neglected to upload it. The error has now been
rectified.
<ducks to dodge that cool-but-deadly looking sword>
-----
Gerard Cunningham abardubh at wwa dot com
http://www.wwa.com/~abardubh/
"For a guide to what's really going on" -s.c.i. FAQ
K. E. Dennis
Gerard Cunningham wrote:
> K. E. Dennis wrote:
>
> >Tony, you've done a grand job here, no question. Your translation is both
> >more melodious & considerably less twee that Marcus's - a pleasure to
> >read. It well deserves a place of honour in the poetry archives of
> >Partisan Cheese, IMHO. <w/ a humble curtsey in the direction of His
> >Eminence>
>
> Oops. I replaced the original with Tony's translation over a
> fortnight ago, but neglected to upload it. The error has now been
> rectified.
>
> <ducks to dodge that cool-but-deadly looking sword>
<warm, conciliatory smile>
ah, now, milord Cardinal....
...you don't think I'd make so bold as to strike @ *you*?
<sweetly innocent face beams @ him>
Only come here to me til I show you how this dappled evening light brings out
the patterns in the metal if you hold @ it just right... <tracing one fingertip
along the sleek, gleaming blade in a hypnotic, swirling pattern>
Sure you'd like to see that, would you not.... <soothing, crooning, coaxing
voice>
hmmmmmmmm?
o, no, never mind... it's just a little.. rhyme, that's all, that I recite it
when...
<swings the blade up in a long graceful arc>
Don't worry: this won't hurt a bit.
Gerard Cunningham
K. E. Dennis wrote:
>Don't worry: this won't hurt a bit.
Ah dammit, where's the fun in that?