IMLD - and a poem in your native language

[sammy]

... that's today, the 21st of February.

The International Mother Language Day is being observed every year in UNESCO's Member States and at its Headquarters to promote linguistic and cultural diversity and multilingualism.

Languages are at the very heart of UNESCO's objectives. They are the most powerful instruments of preserving and developing our tangible and intangible heritage.

All moves to promote the dissemination of mother tongues will serve not only to encourage linguistic diversity and multilingual education but also to development fuller awareness of linguistic and cultural traditions throughout the world and to inspire solidarity based on understanding, tolerance and dialogue.

http://webworld.unesco.org/imld/

To go with that, I'll start with a poem in Finnish. Submit your own if you wish to share a bit of your mother tongue here

HAUEN LAULU

Kosteasta kodostaan
nous hauki puuhun laulamaan

kun puhki pilvien harmajain
jo himersi päivän kajo
ja järvelle heräsi nauravain
lainehitten ajo
nous hauki kuusen latvukseen
punaista käpyä purrakseen

lie nähnyt kuullut haistanut
tai kävyn päästä maistanut
sen aamun kasteenkostean
loiston sanomattoman

kun aukoellen
luista suutaan
longotellen
leukaluutaan

niin villin-raskaan
se virren veti
että vaikeni
linnut heti
kuin vetten paino
ois tullut yli
ja yksinäisyyden
kylmä syli.

Aaro Hellaakoski / Jääpeili 1928

[Jussi]

Ok, well heres one in my mother tongue, English, but from a man of the bush. My country.


Bush Christening


On the outer Barcoo where the churches are few,
And men of religion are scanty,
On a road never cross'd 'cept by folk that are lost,
One Michael Magee had a shanty.
Now this Mike was the dad of a ten year old lad,
Plump, healthy, and stoutly conditioned;
He was strong as the best, but poor Mike had no rest
For the youngster had never been christened.

And his wife used to cry, `If the darlin' should die
Saint Peter would not recognise him.'
But by luck he survived till a preacher arrived,
Who agreed straightaway to baptise him.

Now the artful young rogue, while they held their collogue,
With his ear to the keyhole was listenin',
And he muttered in fright, while his features turned white,
`What the divil and all is this christenin'?'

He was none of your dolts, he had seen them brand colts,
And it seemed to his small understanding,
If the man in the frock made him one of the flock,
It must mean something very like branding.

So away with a rush he set off for the bush,
While the tears in his eyelids they glistened --
`'Tis outrageous,' says he, `to brand youngsters like me,
I'll be dashed if I'll stop to be christened!'

Like a young native dog he ran into a log,
And his father with language uncivil,
Never heeding the `praste' cried aloud in his haste,
`Come out and be christened, you divil!'

But he lay there as snug as a bug in a rug,
And his parents in vain might reprove him,
Till his reverence spoke (he was fond of a joke)
`I've a notion,' says he, `that'll move him.'

`Poke a stick up the log, give the spalpeen a prog;
Poke him aisy -- don't hurt him or maim him,
'Tis not long that he'll stand, I've the water at hand,
As he rushes out this end I'll name him.

`Here he comes, and for shame! ye've forgotten the name --
Is it Patsy or Michael or Dinnis?'
Here the youngster ran out, and the priest gave a shout --
`Take your chance, anyhow, wid `Maginnis'!'

As the howling young cub ran away to the scrub
Where he knew that pursuit would be risky,
The priest, as he fled, flung a flask at his head
That was labelled `MAGINNIS'S WHISKY'!

And Maginnis Magee has been made a J.P.,
And the one thing he hates more than sin is
To be asked by the folk, who have heard of the joke,
How he came to be christened `Maginnis'!


A.B. (Banjo) Paterson

[Hank W.]

To go with that, I'll start with a poem in Finnish. Submit your own if you wish to share a bit of your mother tongue here

I'd say my mother always *objected* to this as it wasn't proper, like...

TONNIN STIFLAT
Klabbeissa on mulla tonnin stiflat.
Ei ne tonnii paina, mut ne bungaa sen.
Joskus mä stygen niille tsungaan,
silloin kun mä muille tsungaa en.

Monen vuoden jälkeen mä Hesarilla luudaan
ja dallaan sinne minne klabbit kuljettaa.
Snagarilla hodarin mä skruudaan,
ja rundaan kohti kulman kuppilaa.

Slurkit ohi bilikalla skujaa.
Näil kanteil ennen flindaa stikattiin.
Joka gubbel futas sillo vitun lujaa,
nyt futaa vähä iisimmin - päin helvettii.

Mä hiffaan Flemarilla Stigun, tutun dorgan.
Se pummaa huggen taikka febosen,
et se vois vetään boltsiin vaikka snadin borkan.
Mä biffaan sille stoben, bulin ja huurteisen.

Klabbeissa on mulla tonnin stiflat.
Ei ne tonnii paina, mut ne bungaa sen.
Joskus mä stygen niille tsungaan,
silloin kun mä muille tsungaa en.

Slade, vanha starbu, botskin alla bunkkaa.
Ei sil oo fyrkkaa luukkuun eikä skruudikseen.
Öögat valuu vodaa ja densalle se dunkkaa.
Ennen se tsombas dösaa duunikseen.

Mä dallaan Hagikseen ja venttaan sporaa.
Tää rundi pyörii niinku ennenkin.
Spurgujengi flänäpäissään joraa,
tai sit ne flaidaa, mä en maindaa - olkoon niin.

Ei täs kande paljo brassailla tai sniidaa.
Nyt on pakko panna tsigge flekkaamaan.
Mä griinaan, vaik mun tekis mieli spiidaa.
Tääl saa daijuun jos ei pysty gnekkaamaan.

Klabbeissa on mulla tonnin stiflat.
Ei ne tonnii paina, mut ne bungaa sen.
Joskus mä stygen niille tsungaan,
silloin kun mä muille tsungaa en.

Sanat ja sävel Tuomari Nurmio

[Mook]

Gin I was God

GIN I was God, sittin' up there abeen,
Weariet nae doot noo a' my darg was deen,
Deaved wi' the harps an' hymns oonendin' ringin',
Tired o' the flockin' angels hairse wi' singin',
To some clood-edge I'd daunder furth an', feth,
Look ower an' watch hoo things were gyaun aneth.
Syne, gin I saw hoo men I'd made mysel'
Had startit in to pooshan, sheet an' fell,
To reive an' rape, an' fairly mak' a hell
O' my braw birlin' Earth,--a hale week's wark--
I'd cast my coat again, rowe up my sark,
An' or they'd time to lench a second ark,
Tak' back my word an' sen' anither spate,
Droon oot the hale hypothec, dicht the sklate,
Own my mistak', an, aince I cleared the brod,
Start a'thing ower again, gin I was God.

Charles Murray.

[matildemichi]

ITALIA
da L'ALLEGRIA - IL PORTO SEPOLTO


: ) im matilde from italy. this is a famous GIUSEPPE UNGARETTI poem. its called ...ITALIA
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sono un poeta
un grido unanime
sono un grumo di sogni

Sono un frutto
d'innumerevoli contrasti d'innesti
maturato in una serra

Ma il tuo popolo è portato
dalla stessa terra
che mi porta
Italia

E in questa uniforme
di tuo soldato
mi riposo
come fosse la culla
di mio padre

Locvizza, l'1 ottobre 1916


ps: "oma KIELI mansikka, MUU kieli mustikka....mutta suomi on mansikka" : ) ehm i dont know but even if it was mother language day, i feel a bit patriotic for finland :? :P

[Tapani]

This one makes me homesick for a city I would no longer like to live in:

Rotown Magic by: Jules Deelder

Rotterdam is niet te filmen
De beelden wisselen te snel
Rotterdam heeft geen verleden
en geen enkele trapgevel

Rotterdam is niet romantisch
heeft geen tijd voor flauwe kul
is niet vatbaar voor suggesties
luistert niet naar slap gelul

't Is niet camera-gevoelig
lijkt niet mooier dan het is
Het ligt vierkant hoog en hoekig
gekanteld in het tegenlicht

Rotterdam is geen illusie
door de camera gewekt
Rotterdam is niet te filmen
Rotterdam is VEELS te ECHT.

[Veera]

Poem in Polish

***
Bez uszu
Bez oczu
Bez ust i bez twarzy

Pusta masa
Twarda plastelina

[efx]

Note: Poorman's translation,

Monna Rosa (by Sezai Karakoc)

monna rosa,siyah güller,ak güller;
gülce'nin gülleri ve beyaz yatak.
kanadı kırık kuş merhamet ister;
ah,senin yüzünden kana batacak,
monna rosa,siyah güller,ak güller!

// Monna Rosa, black roses, white roses
// roses of the Gulce and white bed
// bird with broken wings seeks for mercy
// ah, will sink in to the blood due to you
// Monna Rosa, black roses, white roses

ulur aya karşı kirli çakallar,
bakar ürkek ürkek tavşanlar dağa.
monna rosa,bugün bende bir hal var,
yağmur iğri iğri düşer toprağa,
ulur aya karşı kirli çakallar.

// dirty jackals ululate toward the moon
// hares watch the mountain faintheartedly
// Monna Rosa, there is something strage within me today
// rain irregularly drops to the land
// dirty jackals ululate toward the moon

açma pencereni,perdeleri çek:
monna rosa,seni görmemeliyim.
bir bakışın ölmem için yetecek;
anla monna rosa,ben öteliyim...
açma pencereni,perdeleri çek.

// dont open your window, close your curtain
// Monna Rosa, I must not see you
// Your one glance would be enough to my death
// See Monna Rosa, I belong to the beyonds

zaman çabuk çabuk geçiyor monna;
saat on ikidir,söndü lambalar.
uyu da turnalar gelsin rüyana,
bakma tuhaf tuhaf göğe bu kadar;
zaman çabuk çabuk geçiyor monna.

// time marches on so quicly, monna
// lambs are off since it was 12 o'clock
// let you sleep, so may cranes will be in your dreams
// dont strangely look at the sky so much
// time marches on so quicly, monna

zeytin ağaçları, söğüt gölgesi,
bende çıkar güneş aydınlığına.
bir nişan yüzüğü bir kapı sesi.
seni hatırlatır her zaman bana.
zeytin ağaçları, söğüt gölgesi

// olive trees, shadow of willow
// sun reaches it's illumination by(from) me
// an engagement ring, the sound of a door
// makes me remember you
// olive trees, shadow of willow

ellerin,ellerin ve parmaklarin
bir nar çiçegini eziyor gibi...
ellerinden belli olur bir kadın.
denizin dibinde geziyor gibi
ellerin.ellerin ve parmakların.

// your hands, your hands and your fingers
// like crushing the pomegranate flower
// with her hands a woman can be seen
// like travelling in the deep of the sea
// your hands, your hands and your fingers

zambaklar en ıssız yerlerde açar,
ve vardır her vahşi çiçekte gurur.
bir mumun ardında bekleyen rüzgar,
işıksız ruhumu sallar da durur,
zambaklar en ıssız yerlerde açar.

// lilyies efflorescence in the most deserted places
// and all atrocious flowers have an honour.
// the wind waiting behind the candle
// shakes my aphotic soul

akşamları gelir incir kuşları,
konarlar bahçemin incirlerine;
kiminin rengi ak,kiminin sarı.
ah,beni vursalar bir kuş yerine!
akşamları gelir incir kuşları...

// Fig birds come in the evenings,
// (and) settle in my garden.
// some of them are white, some of them are yellow
// ah, wish shot me instead of a bird!
// Fig birds come in the evenings...

ki ben,monna rosa,bulurum seni
incir kuşlarının bakışlarında.
hayatla doldurur bu boş yelkeni
o masum bakışlar...su kenarında
ki ben,monna rosa,bulurum seni.

// and Monna Rosa, I find you
// in the look of the fig birds.
// fills this sail with life
// those innocent lookings... waterfront
// and Monna Rosa, I find you.

kırgın kırgın bakma yüzüme rosa:
henüz dinlemedin benden türküler.
benim aşkım uymaz öyle her saza,
en güzel şarkıyı bir kurşun söyler...
kırgın kırgın bakma yüzüme rosa.

// rosa, dont look at my face so offended
// you didnt listen ballads from me.
// and my love cant be adapted to all instruments
// a bullet signs the best song...
// rosa, dont look at my face so offended


artık inan bana muhacir kızı,
dinle ve kabul et itirafımı.
bir soğuk, bir garip, bir mavi sızı
alev alev sardı her tarafımı,
artık inan bana muhacir kızı.

// at that believe me emigrant girl,
// listen and accept my confession.
// a cold, a strange, a cold ache
// beleaguered whole of me,
// at that believe me emigrant girl.

yağmurlardan sonra büyürmüş başak,
meyvalar sabırla olgunlaşırmış.
bir gün gözlerimin ta içine bak:
anlarsın ölüler niçin yaşarmış,
yağmurlardan sonra büyürmüş başak.

// It's said that ear grows after rain,
// fruits blossom with a patiance.
// one day look into my eyes
// (then) you understand why death one lives

altın bilezikler, o korkulu ten,
cevap versin bu kanlı kuş tüyüne;
bir tüy ki, can verir bir gülümsesen,
bir tüy ki, kapalı geceye, güne;
altın bilezikler o korkulu ten!

// golden bracelets, those anxious complexion,
// (let) answers this bloody bird plume;
// a plume that would give life if you smile
//a plume that close to the night and day
// golden bracelets, those anxious complexion.

PS: There is an acrostic ->Muazzez Akkaya and there are many stories about the poem and this woman

[Horse]

They @#$% you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were @#$% up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

Phillip Larkin