Aifric Mac Aodha Poems

TRANSLATED BY DAVID WHEATLEY
Do Keara [For Keara]
stuaim

Ba cheart bhur gcur ó aithne,
tá an tír róbheag, teanga
níos stuama a chleachtadh
nó seasamh siar ón tús.

Ach anois thar aon am eile,
níl teacht ná dul ón tosach.
Ag cóisir daoibh in íoslach tí,
thug tú úll dó in áit osclóra.

Bíonn dúil agus dúil ann,
a shonc féin, ba mheidhreach:
Bíonn diúltú agus diúltú ann — 
No thanks, I've read the Bible.


cant

Wipe your memory: the country's
too small, practice
holding your tongue
or stand back from the thing.

As much as ever now
there's no getting past how
she slid with aplomb
not a corkscrew but an apple into his palm.

There's come-ons, and come-ons and then some.
His comeback was winsome.
There's no thanks, and no-thanks-but-frisky—
If that makes me Adam, then you must be ...
...

My father and mother
Were proud of me:
They never let on
That I didn't make the wake.

When I came back, years later,
Their coffins had been gnawed.
I laid a trap down for a rat
And caught a little bird.
...

De bhéaloideas na hÉireann é go n-itheadh an file amhfheoil an chait roimh dhul i mbun pinn dó.
Ní iarrann sé de chothú
Ach conablach an chait:
Guíonn go mbeadh a ghoile
Á chnaí ag fiacla bioracha,

Go ngreamódh an samhnas
Ina screamhán dá theanga,
Go stollfaí an dá shúil istigh
Leis na hingne crúálacha.
...

Irish folklore records that the poet would eat the raw flesh of a cat before composing.
For sustenance he wants
only a cat's cadaver:
prays that its scything
teeth rend his stomach,

nausea form a thick
film on his tongue,
the cruel nails poke
out his eyes from within.
...

Tuigeann an duine conas titim isteach
Le dlíthe, teanga agus nósanna.

Sa chaisleán istigh,
Admhaíonn fuinneogín a leithead.

Agatsa raon na tíre,
Gan radharc ort ag éinneach.

Thánac ar bhroc is tú ar shiúl,
An corp faoi rigor mortis.

Ba den chríonnacht í inniu, a chuid
Nach rachainn á thaispeáint duit.
...

We know how to fall in line
with laws, language and habits.

Within the keep the tiny
window conjures expanses:

a wide-ranging view to take in
while you stay well out of reach.

I came on a badger out walking,
convulsed in its rigor mortis.

Today it was part of the wisdom
that lingers for all who pass.
...

Creidtear san íomhá thosaigh:
Na mílte is na mílte luchóg
Ag rith isteach is amach
I measc ráillí an iarnróid.

Achar sula ligtear aon fhead,
Airítear í faoina gcnámha.
Tagadh an traein, sa deireadh
Ach roimhe sin, asláithriú.
...

The opening image commands belief:
thousands and thousands of mice
streaming in and out
of the railway tracks.

Waiting for the whistle to sound
it's felt under their bones.
Let the train come, in the end,
but before that: displacement.
...

Leagtaí blaoscanna each
Faoi chúinní halla an damhsa tráth,
Go mbainfí macalla as boinn na mbróg,
Go mbeadh na fallaí ramhar le ceol.

Ba choscrach an ní é, a chuid,
Na cnámha sin faoin lár:
Ní liginn an scanradh le m'ais
Ach ghuínn go bhfantá i mo chomhair.
...

Horses' skulls would be laid
Under dance hall corners, once,
to echo the clattering soles,
that the walls might burst with music.

How inhibiting, my dear,
that foundation of bones.
I would not parole the fear I felt,
but prayed it might stay by my side.
...