Tag: Albanian

Categories
Poetry

Flowering in the Rain & More Poems

Poetry by Ahmad Al-Khatat

FLOWERING IN THE RAIN 

Are you going to bloom in the rain tonight?
I hear your footsteps in the darkness,
I smell your scent on the budding seeds,
and wonder whether you are among the stars.

This life can only be lived due to your existence.
I feel like I am losing myself more than usual.
After losing everything I cared about,
I considered migrating to a different country.

Regrets have shattered some of my aspirations,
and I miss giving my all to love someone like you.
Why does tonight’s rain sound so sad?
I've cried for ages, and you haven't flowered yet.

Thousands of breaths push me towards your sweet lips.
Allow our sorrows to touch the drenched grass in the park,
and follow the moonlight to
find me waiting with a rainbow umbrella…

TWO FINGERS CROSSED

I'm wondering if my depression stems
from my past or what I'll become in the future.
Is it because I speak your language with an accent?
I'm sorry, but my accent represents who I am.

I wish I could erase children's memories
of everyday genocide with a pencil and eraser.
My phone isn't charging. My cousin is wearing
my face mask. I lie dead in my blood-soaked bath.

Does the moonlight still brighten your melancholy heart?
What arouses your emotions?
Can you dream about kissing me the way you usually do?
Who wouldn't love a walk under the twinkling stars?

I miss the way you hold my frigid hands behind my back,
with at least two fingers crossed.
When I inhale your breath, I trust my senses completely.
Your amazing voice is the music that brings me joy.

PACK OF CIGARETTES AND LIQUOR  

I'd swap my rusty flesh and chilly blood 
for a pack of smokes and a drink. 

I am willing to sacrifice my emotions and peace 
for a pack of smokes and alcohol. 

I'm willing to surrender my citizenship and foreign passport 
for smokes and whisky. 

I am willing to compromise my values and ethics 
for a pack of smokes and alcohol. 

I'd swap my wounded heart and warm hands 
for a pack of smokes and a drink. 

I'd swap my youthful smile and tears 
for a pack of smokes and a drink. 

I'm willing to exchange my healthy organs and memories 
for smokes and whisky. 

I'd exchange my imprecise accent and colourless fantasies 
for a pack of smokes and a bottle of vodka. 

I will never give up my past and hometown 
for a coffin which I tried to steal before my sentence 
by hanging with death.

Ahmad Al-Khatat was born in Baghdad, Iraq. His work has appeared in print and online journals globally. He has poems translated into several languages such as Farsi, Chinese, Spanish, Albanian, Romanian. He has published some poetry chapbooks, and a collection of short stories.

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

Categories
Poets, Poetry & Rhys Hughes

An Experiment with Automatic Poetic Translation

Courtesy: Creative Commons

I am intrigued by the whole process of translation, a most remarkable alchemy of words and meanings, and when it comes to the translation of poetry, I find the operation especially bewildering and beguiling. But this is not the place for me to discuss my views on the mechanics of the subject, for in fact I have no such views. I am not a translator. I merely wish to explain that the following poem is the result of a minor experiment I have been planning for a long time, a variant of the ‘Chinese Whispers’ game, performed using an automatic translation program. A poem is written, a poem using fairly obvious imagery, and then the translation game begins. The poem is translated from English into another language, in this case Albanian, then from Albanian into another language, Arabic in fact, and from Arabic into Basque, and so on. Eventually the poem exists in Zulu, and from there it is translated back into English.

Possibly it will no longer sound like a real poem at this stage. But it can be easily adjusted, turned into something resembling a new poem, and presented as a continuation of the original poem. The final poetic work will consist of the original stanza followed by the manipulated stanza. If they enhance each other, so much the better, but if not, nothing much has been lost.

The Transformation

The transformation is lengthy
but painless,
it does not drain us. The way
ahead is clear
as far as the glowing horizon
where the moon
has promised to rise. The eyes
of the night
stare intensely in preparation
for blinking
thanks to the white eyelid of
a belated moon
and we grow wise when at last
it arrives, saying
that the stars belong in sleep
and so they do and so
do we and finally
the change
occurs
rest
ful
ly.

This poem was automatically translated between all the following languages:

English – Albanian – Arabic – Basque – Bengali – Czech – Dutch – French – German – Greek – Hindi -Indonesian – Korean – Latin – Macedonian – Maltese – Nepali – Persian – Portuguese – Romanian – Sanskrit – Slovak – Swahili – Thai – Turkish – Urdu – Vietnamese – Welsh – Zulu – English

And the result, after a very small manual adjustment, is:

After a long time
I’m still crying,
a street name outside of us.
This is obvious at first:
bright horizon.
Where is the moon?
And so ends the contract.
Dinner?
I can’t wait to get ready.
This is not a rumour
of white hair
or months.
Finally we bring you a sage.
They started talking,
you are sleeping,
and so
I continue to do so.
Be careful,
what’s up is silence,
targeted
from where?

Rhys Hughes has lived in many countries. He graduated as an engineer but currently works as a tutor of mathematics. Since his first book was published in 1995 he has had fifty other books published and his work has been translated into ten languages.

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Kindle Amazon International

Categories
Editorial

The Sky

The sky is, was and will be.

It stretches without borders, without interruptions, without contentions, unifying all under its life-giving ambience. We live nurtured by the sky, the water and the Earth. If we think back to times before humans made constructs and built walls to guard their own, to times when their ancestors roamed the Earth and moved to meet their needs, the population was not huge, and resources were abundant. Our species lived in consonance with nature. People revered natural forces and found trends that evolved into traditions and constructs which eventually made their progeny forget that the sky, water and Earth did not belong to them. These belong or perhaps exist for some reason that we do not comprehend despite the explanations given by science and religions. Being merely transient passers-by through these, humanity, unlike dinosaurs, has an urge to survive and be like the sky — with a past, present and future and a sense of the eternal. Though we all have short lives compared to the sky, Earth or universe, we continue to find ourselves in a homo centric world that considers all else to be made to meet their aspirations. But there was a time, when humans lacked this arrogance. They just tried to survive. And move with shifting rivers in an unbordered world.

Exploring such times, is Anthony Sattin’s profound book, Nomads: The Wanderers Who Shaped our World. He converses to reinforce reviving the concept of asabiyya or bonding between humans so that they find it in their hearts to move forward with necessary changes to avoid following in the footsteps of mammoths. A change maker who redefined constructs for humankind, a devdasi’s[1] daughter who rose to become a pioneering doctor and activist a hundred years ago, is Dr Muthulakshmi Reddy. We have an interview with her recent biographer, R Devika, who authored Muthulakshmi Reddy: A Trailblazer in Surgery and Women’s Rights.

The books reviewed this time include one featuring the writings by the greatest change maker in cinema — Satyajit Ray. Bhaskar Parichha has reviewed Satyajit Ray Miscellany: On Life, Cinema, People & Much More while Professor Somdatta Mandal has given us a candid opinion on BM Zuhara’s The Dreams of a Mappila Girl: A Memoir, translated from Malayalam by Fehmida Zakir. Taranath Tantrik and Other Tales from the  Supernatural by Bibhutibhushan, translated from Bengali by Devalina Mookerjee brings unexplored dark mysterious forces into play and has been reviewed by Basudhara Roy. We have an excerpt from the titular stories of Tarantath Tantrik. Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay(1894-1950) was a legendary writer from Bengal. He wrote stories and novels, some of which were immortalised in cinema, such as the Apu triology by Satyajit Ray. The other book excerpt is from a translation from Kannada by an upcoming voice that needs to be heard, Maithreyi Karnoor. She has brought to the anglophone world Shrinivas Vaidya’s Handful of Sesame.

In our section on translations, we are privileged to carry voices that remain relevant to date, Tagore and Nazrul. Nazrul’s poem on poverty, Daridro, has been translated by Professor Fakrul Alam and we have a transcreation of Tagore’s inspiring lyrics (Aalo Amar Aalo) to energise one’s life with the refulgence of light. Rosy Gallace’s poetry has been translated from Italian by Albanian writer, Irma Kurti. Korean poet, Ihlwha Choi, has translated his own poem on peace for us. And a Tamil short story by S Ramakrishnan, has been rendered into English by B Chandramouli. It is an interesting potpourri as is our poetry section, which even features poetry from Iraq by Ahmad Al-Khatat. We also feature poems by Michael Burch, Kirpal Singh, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Jonathan Chan, Ron Pickett, George Freek, Gayatri Majumdar, Vandana Kumar, Mike Smith and many more along with the inimitable witty ditties of Rhys Hughes which not only make us laugh but also wonder…

Evoking humour is not easy, but we do have a few such writers who manage it very well. Hughes has given us a tongue-in-cheek piece on the dateline, which has more than humour. And Devraj Singh Kalsi has shared his discovery that laughter is the best medicine to shrug off a dentist’s drill. He has also visited the colours of Durga Puja which, with its spirit of inclusivity, transported visitors in one marquee near Kolkata to the iconic Malaysian Twin Towers. Thus, bringing festivals in October into our purview. Candice Lousia Daquin has actually explored why we celebrate festivals and the God gene… Did you know we have a biological need for spirituality?

Suzanne Kamata has introduced us to Mount Bizan, which houses a writer by the surname of Moraes – Wenceslau José de Souza de Moraes, an expat writer who lived in Japan at the turn of the twentieth century. Wonder if he could have been related to the Anglo Indian writer, Dom Moraes? Aditi Yadav has also given us an essay on the Japanese philosophy of Wabi-sabi with its world view centred on imperfections and transience. Ravi Shankar has suggested walks for all of us, sharing his experiences in the Himalayas, the Caribbean island of Aruba and in many more places. Meredith Stephens has written of sailing to Tasmania.

The essay that brought back a flavour of home for me is one by Asad Latif, now a journalist in Singapore but long ago, he was an icon in India. We are very privileged to have his writing on what borders do for us… a piece exploring the idea on which we base our journal, also perhaps with a touch of Anthony Sattin’ s asabiyya. ‘Pandies’ Corner‘ starts another run, showcasing women’s tryst for freedom. Amreen’s ‘Moh-Reen’, her own story, translated from Hindustani by Janees, is a brave start to the series. The voices ring out asking for a change, to heal social norms to accommodate love and kindness with the backing of Shaktishalini and Pandies as does the unsupported solo voice of an older woman from Balochistan, Ganji Baloch, brought to our notice by Ali Jaan Maqsood.

We have fiction from Sohana Manzoor – again bringing to fore strange stories of women rebelling against social norms. Paul Mirabile explores death and the sea in a horrific story. Sunil Sharma’s fiction explores madness and ideators, making a social comment on recent happenings. As the sky stretches out to accommodate all kinds of writings, all creatures great and small, we try our best to give voice to a fair cross section from around the world as we have done this time too.

There are as usual pieces that we have not mentioned in this note but they are all worth a read. Do drop in to check out our contents in this October issue. We are truly grateful to our contributors who continue to connect with words and thoughts that waft along with clouds. We would like to thank Sohana Manzoor especially for her wonderful artwork. The journal would not be a possibility without the support of the whole team and our valuable readers who make writing worth the effort. It is lovely to be read and remembered for the words we write.

Wish you all a wonderful October.

Mitali Chakravarty

borderlessjournal.com

[1] A woman ‘married’ to Gods and forced to live as a mistress to mortal men.

Categories
Poetry

Poetry from Italy

Poems by Rosy Gallace, translated by Irma Kurti

Rosy Gallace

THE EXPIRED TIME

It wasn’t the highway kilometres

that made us feel distant.

It wasn’t the labour

or the cost of the tolls.

.

It wasn’t even

a round trip on an easy jet.

It was our thoughts

so distant… and… different.

.

Our time has traveled

between parallel lives

chasing each other, never meeting.

.

Our thoughts intertwined

with the days filled with loneliness;

now, they’re here in their nakedness.

.

Our time has expired.

.

For once, without finding any holds,

let’s look at each other through sincere

eyes and beyond words, let us listen

to the rhythms of heart, let’s shake

hands, be real, let’s just be ourselves.

.

IF YOU WERE HERE

I would not feel the unbridgeable void

in these long summer days.

I’d forgive even the chirping of cicadas

that took away the sleep from your nights.

.

I would run to you to find

the answers to my silences.

I would ask you how to live:

get up, get dressed, wash, eat,

keep that pain a secret,

the pain that takes the breath away.

.

I would fly to you on dark days;

I don’t know where else to go.

I’d find relief among those walls

that smelled so much

of lavender and talcum powder.

.

If you were here

I wouldn’t be so lost tonight,

confused and cold. I’d have a smile

and a warm hand, that word you

whispered in a low voice and how

magically everything turned as before.

.

This time I’d take you by the hand,

proudly I’d lead you along the course,

even on that chair you hated so much

despite that, you would be happy with me.

.

I would touch a kiss on the folds

of the forehead while you travel in

your memories in a smile shielded

from the grimace of pain.

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Rosy Gallace was born in Guardavalle in the province of Catanzaro in Calabria and lives in Rescaldina, Milan. She has published several books of poems which have been translated into English, Romanian and Albanian. She is the creator, organiser, and president of several literary contests and also acts as part of the jury for various literary competitions in Italy.

Irma Kurti is an Albanian poetess, writer, lyricist, journalist, and translator. She is a naturalised Italian. She has won numerous literary prizes and awards in Italy and Italian Switzerland. Irma Kurti has published 26 books in Albanian, 17 in Italian, 8 in English and two in French. She is also the translator of 11 books of different authors and of all her books in Italian and English.  

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL