Cothú

by Gabriel Rosenstock

An chéad dán dár scríobh Hugh MacDiarmid
In aois a haon déag nó a dó dhéag dó
Faoi ghráinneog:
Mar a réitíodh giofóga í
Á clúdach le láib
Á socrú go sámh sa ghríosach
Is nuair a bhaintí di an láib chruaite
Ba bhlasta mós súmhar an fheoil.
An Ghiofógais atá ar ghráinneog?
Parchywechy!
(Teideal a chéad dáin).

Sinne, filí na Gaeilge,
Giofógais í ár dteanga án,
Siollaí ag imeacht le fán:
Nach breá an ciúta seo, an chomhréir siúd
Nach suaithinseach an nath úd
Seo linn ina ndiaidh
Nó is priaclach ár ndán.

Ar strae ar shliabh dúinn, a bhráithre,
An gcothódh na briathra sinn in am an ghátair?
An dtiocfaimis, eadrainn, ar ábhar béile?
Siúráilte. D’íosfaimis (amh) a chéile!

from Rogha Dantá

By kind permission of the author and Cló Iar-Chonnacht

Nourishment

Hugh MacDiarmid’s first poem
When he was about eleven or twelve
Was about a hedgehog:
How gypsies used prepare it
Coating it with mud
Laying it gently in the embers
And when the baked mud was cracked off
The meat was tender, even juicy.
The Romany for a hedgehog?
Parchywechy!
(The title of his first poem).

We poets in Irish,
Our illustrious language is Gypsy,
Syllables forever going astray;
Savouring this sally, that syntax,
The other distinctive note.
We tear after them
Unsure of our poetry’s future.

Astray on a hillside, brethren,
Would we live on our words in lean times?
Would we, between us, concoct a meal?
Too right we would. We’d eat each other. Raw.

Translated into English by Paddy Bushe