Trevow War Dir Poem by The Caterpillar

Fresk kommolek ebrenn
glas pilenn hwyth a-ves
tarosvann-pallenn
ha treusnija-leurienn dhe an bran

glyb gwels -
mar nebes gwyr kath vlewek slynka
yn krogenek surkot

DHUCHAIS

Ur scamallach speir
glas giobal seid chun shiul
taibhse-cumhdach
agus eitilt-cairpead do an preachan

fluich fear - bideach bolb tealtaigh
sa sliogan cota

MY HOME LAND

Fresh cloudy heaven
blue/grey/green rags blow away
ghost-blanket
and flying-carpet for the crow

wet grass -
as a little furry caterpillar creeps
in carapace overcoat

MOJA OJCZYZNY

Swieze zachmurzenie nieba
niebieski / szary / zielony szmaty zdmuchnac
duch-koc
I latajacy dywan-za wrony

mokra trawa -
jako maly futrzany gasienica skrada
w plaszczu pancerza

Notes:

This poem is cast in Cornish, Irish, English and Polish. Apologies to the Kelts for the liberties I've taken with these ancient and noble tongues.

'Glas' in Cornish can mean 'blue', 'green' or 'grey'. I associate this word with the changing colours of the sea. Occasionaly houses in Cornwall are called 'Glas Mor' - Grey/blue/green sea.

Alot of Irish words have accent-marks over them, but not sure if my machine will do this, so you'll have to put them in yourself...

I asked the 'Jynn-amontya' (engine-amounter, or computer in Cornish) to do a Polish metaphrasis - it's in the hands of the 9 Muses of the INTERnational NETwork - I hope they did a good job - feedback from Polish-speakers welcome!

Submitted on 22.2.2012, International day of Mother Tongues!