Ó thuiscint
Rinne sí a cuid féin den chathair
áit nárbh fhéidir a aithint
thar chathracha eile:
an tsráid shalach fhada
seanduine dúr le madra:
anseo a scríobhfadh sí scéal
nó a feartlaoi féin:
ach chonaic sí uaithi
líonra suaite éan
ina scriobláil spéire:
focal a bhí ag dul ó thuiscint
an focal ba cheart di a bhreacadh
From understanding She made herself at home in the city, one not easy to distinguish from others: the long dirty street, a bargain in the butcher’s shop, a grim old man with a dog. Here she would write a story or her own epitaph; but she saw in the distance a troubled web of birds like a scribble in the sky: a word that passed understanding, the word she should set down.
Fios
Tá tú tagtha anseo
de réir mar a dúirt
an bhean feasa fadó
sa seomra úd le cumhracht na túise:
féach an teach tráthnóna
os do chomhair amach
na craobhacha loma
an doras dúnta:
a rogha duit é a oscailt
nó fanacht fút
le luí na gréine
is an préachán ag tabhairt
dhá chomhairle duit
Knowledge You have come here, as the soothsayer said long ago in the room scented with incense: see the house at evening before you, the bare branches, the closed door: you can choose to open it or stay put at sunset with the crow advising you both ways.
Seandálaithe
Lean siad orthu ag tochailt
ar lorg an ama a chuaigh thart:
fearsaid nó fiacail nó coróin
ar chloigeann bainríona:
nuair a tháinig siad folamh aníos
d’ol siad uisce na hoíche
ina seasamh faoi mhionn ríoga
na réaltraí arda
is an bhainríon úd faoi réim
i gcéin i log na spéire
Archaeologists They kept on digging in search of time past, a spindle, a tooth or a crown on the skull of a queen. When they came up empty-handed they drank the water of night, standing under the high galaxies’ diadem, with the queen enthroned far away in the depths of the night.
Deoraithe
Ní sócúl a gealladh don deoraí
a deiridís le chéile
ag comhchogar i gcaiféanna
ag aighneas i gcúlseomraí
nó go ndúirt an bunúdar
nach raibh ina dtír siúd
(dúchas a chnaígh an croí)
ach finscéal i mbéal file:
céard a dhéanfaidís feasta?
deoch a ól is gloine a bhriseadh
ar chloigeann na cinniúna
Exiles Ease was not destined to the exile, they used to tell each other, conspiring in cafés, disputing in back rooms, until they heard with certainty that their country (an inheritance that wore away the heart) was nothing but a poet’s legend. What would they do in future? Drink and break the glass on the skull of fate.
Colin Ryan
Colin is a Melbourne poet and a second-language speaker of Irish, having taught himself at first. Cló lar-Chonnacht, the Irish language publishing house, has recently brought out a collection of his short stories in the Irish language, a very rare phenomenon in Australia.
Tinteán 