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93. Saoirse Neruda – An Mise Éan

Posted by ancroiait on March 3, 2013
Posted in: Art, Celtic, Education, Español, Gaeilge, Ireland, Irish, Literature, Music, Poetry, Politics, Social Justice, Uncategorized. Tagged: Bradley Manning, Chile, Filíocht, Freedom, Gaeilge, Pablo Neruda, Saoirse, Spanish poetry.

Seo fís ó 18bis que representa el poema The Me Bird by Pablo Neruda

man bird 3

An Mise Éan

Is mise an Pablo éan,
éan de chleite amháin,
eitlóir sa scáth glé
agus soléire doiléir,
mo sciatháin nach bhfeictear,
mo chluasa ag sondáil
nuair a shiúlaim i measc na gcrann
nó faoi na leaca
mar scáth báistí tubaisteach
nó claíomh nocht,
sínte mar bhogha
nó cruinn mar fhíonchaor
Leanaim orm ag eitilt le fada i ngan fhios
gonta san oíche dhorcha,
atá ag feitheamh orm,
nach bhfuil m’amhráin uaithi,
atá ag súil le mo bhás,
nach mbeidh ‘fhios aici go bhfuilim ag teacht
agus nach dtiocfaidh le mé a chloigh,
le fuil a bhaint asam, le mé a chasadh,
nó le m’éadaí a phógadh,
stroiche ag an ngaoth a scréachann.
Sin an fáth a imím is fillim,
eitlím is ní eitlím ach canaim:
Mise an t-éan feargach
den stoirm shámh.

Man bird

El pájaro yo

ME llamo pájaro Pablo,
ave de una sola pluma,
volador de sombra clara
y de claridad confusa,
las alas no se me ven,
los oídos me retumban
cuando paso entre los árboles
o debajo de las tumbas
cual un funesto paraguas
o como una espada desnuda,
estirado como un arco
o redondo como una uva,
vuelo y vuelo sin saber,
herido en la noche oscura,
quiénes me van a esperar,
quiénes no quieren mi canto,
quiénes me quieren morir,
quiénes no saben que llego
y no vendran a vencerme,
a sangrarme, a retorcerme
o a besar mi traje roto
por el silbido del viento.
Por eso vuelvo y me voy,
vuelo y no vuelo pero canto:
soy el pájaro furioso
de la tempestad tranquila.

man bird 2

The Me Bird
I am the Pablo Bird,
bird of a single feather,
a flier in the clear shadow
and obscure clarity,
my wings are unseen,
my ears resound
when I walk among the trees
or beneath the tombstones
like an unlucky umbrella
or a naked sword,
stretched like a bow
or round like a grape,
I fly on and on not knowing,
wounded in the dark night,
who is waiting for me,
who does not want my song,
who desires my death,
who will not know I’m arriving
and will not come to subdue me,
to bleed me, to twist me,
or to kiss my clothes,
torn by the shrieking wind.
That’s why I come and go,
fly and don’t fly but sing:
I am the furious bird
of the calm storm.

File: Pablo Neruda
Scríobh an file chileno Pablo Neruda faoi ghrá go minic ach cosúil le go leor filí eile, d’aithin sé an dorchadas sa saol. D’fhulaing sé nuair a chaill sé cuid dá cháirde cosúil le Federico García Lorca agus Miguel Hernández mar gheall ar chogadh Franco sa Spáinn. Bhí cuid acu marbh, cuid acu i bpriosúin agus cuid eile nach bhféadfadh dul ar ais go a dtír féin. Mar sin scríobh sé faoi shaoirse sa dán thuas.
In ómós do Bhradley Manning ar 3/3/13 cuirim an dán seo anseo.

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