Poems in Translation: Embracing Language

​Twa Wjukken
 
jawis
út myn siden groeie samar
twa wjukken
seit it lyts jonkje
 
as ik wier hurd tink
 
en dan
dan flean ik mysels
nei de himel
dat hege stee
om te frijen mei in ingel
heech boppe de krinkende minsken fan dizze wrâld
 
jawis
út myn siden groeie samar
twa wjukken
 
as ik wier hurd tink
 
en dan
wier
sil myn siel sa tear wêze
wier
sil myn hert sa sêft slaan
as ik wol
as ik wier hurd tink
flean ik
nei de himel
eltse dei
seit it lytse jonkje
Two Wings
 
for sure
from my sides
just like that
two wings will grow
says the little boy
 
if i think really hard
 
and then
then i fly myself
to heaven
that high place
to make love to an angel
high above the hurtful people of this world
 
for sure
from my sides
just like that
two wings will grow
 
if i think really hard
 
and then
true
my soul will be so tender
true
my heart will beat so quiet
if i want
if i think really hard
i fly
to heaven
each and every day
says the little boy
L.J. DeVries' mother tongue is the frisian language (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/West_Frisian_language). She writes poetry in frisian and english. The frisian work is published on www.ensafh.nl and the english on www.outlawpoetry.com. But she also translates; mainly american poetry into frisian. So far she has translated Whitman, Ginsberg, Micheline and Smith. Published via the Ensafh magazine. 
​Tu Fantasma: Sin Poder
 
Quisiera que había sido tu mejor amiga.
 
Que pudiera cambiado
     lo que tenía que comer,
     cada dia,
la mierda de la vida real; sobreviviendo
 
Como piedras, tan pesadas
     en el estómago;
     como cucharas afiladas
que te habia lacerado por el camino adentro;
                    por los lugares tan bajos.
 
Si hubiera sido tu amiga, pudiera
     protegerte de las fantasmas;
     aquellas cuáles nacidos de la guerra.
 
Fueron de la guerra en su mente, y los malditos
     quién quedan en tu alma;
     los que roban lo que digas.
 
               Palabras parados;
               atrapados
 
Antes de que llegaran al destino,
     que debería ser por mi boca,
     o regalos a mis orejas sensibles.
 
Pero no llegue.
Igualmente a mis brazos,
     muy adentro;
     muy de los dedos tocándome,
               como si fuera tus manos
               en mi mismo cara,
 
Siempre sonriendo en tus ojos morenos.
Somos espejos, ya sabes.
 
¿Que más que hacer?
No fui nada para ti.
          Cuando me necesitabas
          no me encontraste.
La desaparecida que fui yo.
Todavía no soy alguien quien te puede recoger.
 
Lo más útil que podría ser es tu amiga fantasma
     pero una sin intento de matarte,
     una que queda cerca de ti,
sin más opciones qué hacer.
 
Muy loyal,
     aun sin el poder
     de hacerte sentir mejor.
​​Your Phantom, but Powerless
 
I wish I could have been your friend,
               your best friend.
 
One who could have changed the shit
 you had to eat into palpable,
food - real life shit which smelled like
 
Survival. Even with the rocks heavy
     in your stomach it was as if food was the burden;
     as if knives, sharp like tongues
 
Sliced you as you swallowed - cut
you open; the length of an esophagus,
                    like bread.
 
If I had been your friend, I could have kept the demons away.
The ones which rose up
     from the war in your mind;
     from the evil birthings in your soul.
 
The ones who stole your words, while
     in utero,
     hung them there - as bats
          might dangle,
before I could rescue them.
 
I could have saved you -
     with my senses;
     ripe, red, and dripping -         
 
An open invitation into my mouth; but forgot to secure safe
     arrival for not a one
     of them. I was keen on knowing you,
                    licking you -
 
But I didn’t come.
I wasn’t there.
 
Neither were my arms around you -
     nor inside you.
My fingers could have stroked you
     as if they were
     your own satisfaction -
 
My palms could have cupped your cheeks
     like apples;
     like a mirror I saw into your
 
Mexican eyes, of almond ovaline
     and shimmer-lake. The reflection which you
     so wanted to see, within me.
 
What else is there to do now? I know
     I mean nothing to you -
     when you needed me, I was
 
In the jungle, a juvenile warrior;
I fought a war against the Narcos.
 
I still can’t recognize myself for
     the surgeries,
     the scar-covering makeup
 
Combat boots and rifle butts; long standing
                    rebellion heritage -
 
I find, I’m only useful as your ghost.
     One who loves you very much.
     One who would never bring you harm,
 
Let alone murder the something special
                    I see in us.
 
Without other options I float around you,
      useless as a gale;
     always your loyal phantom.
 
Without the power to make your life
     feel
     any better.
Elisabeth Horan is a poet mother student lover of kind people and animals, homesteading in Vermont with her tolerant partner and two young sons. She has recently been featured in The Feminist Wire, Anti-Heroin Chic, Quail Bell Magazine and Algebra of Owls.  Elisabeth’s poetry aspires to give a voice to Mother Earth and all her creatures, as well those tender humans who may be suffering alone and in pain.
Elisabeth is a 2018 MFA Candidate at Lindenwood University and teaches at River Valley Community College in New Hampshire.
[email protected] follow @ehoranpoet.
露珠
 
這邀請函 不用付郵
春寒交際
蝗鼓也寂寂
從未見你離開過後院
只是 你喜歡裝作看不見
我霧中的招手
晃著 閃亮亮的美
活像個小頑童 隨枝取搖
停佇含笑花瓣上 含笑
當然知道 你想
藉問晨曦 邂逅身旁舞動的
綠斑鳳蝶
得承認
這邀請函 發得帶點心機
想騙你入內
明知
太陽底下 你存活不了多久
怎麼如此 不知躲藏
似乎 生命的快活
已然
全在你那幾下 調皮的眨眼裡
奔放殆盡
終於想透
為何 一再拒絕我的邀請
心裡不免還是期盼
終有一天
利用冰霜的夜 你會
偷偷地爬上我的 眼角尖兒
That Dewdrop
 
The invitation does not have to be stamped
Autumn, in that cold night
Locust stop sounds
Never seen you leave the backyard
You just like to pretend not to see
My hands that have been waving in the fog
Shaking the bright shiny beauty
With the branches swing like a little urchin
You stop above that Michelia figo
With a smile on, of course I know
By asking dawn, You try to provoke the dancing Graphium agamemnon
And I have to admit
This invitation with a little scheming
Trying to cheat you in
Obviously know
You can’t survive too long under the sun
How so you do not know to hide
It seems the joviality in life
Already,
all in your naughty blink
Finally figured it out
Finally I understood thoroughly
Why repeatedly refused my invitations
My heart can’t help but look forward to
One day
You’ll Make use of the frost night
You will sneak up the tip of my eye
隔夜新娘              
 
夜  如
另一個暗傷
含著吐不出地苦
 
害怕夫家
是個星星不發光的地方
不知
未來的夫婿
點不點得亮
痛惜的暗空
未來的婆婆點不點得亮
當做我是自家的女兒
 
往日
風吹動天空之弦
總是撩動纏綿夜曲
透過窗
哪裡會獨獨只有今夜
無一點點的聲息
無一點點的聲息
 
各處都是月娘的光芒
破碎而恬靜
深深地睡意又戰勝清醒
不記得太陽的臉
平靜銀河
不知該流往何處
闔上眼睛背誦一首詩
The Bride's Last Night
 
Night
Such as another dark injury
With that bitter can’t be spit it out
 
So afraid, the home of my husband
is a place the stars do not shine
I do not know
The future husband
Can light up the sky just for love or not
The future mother-in-law
Can light up the sky just for
As I am their own daughter
 
In the past
The wind blows the sky
Always touching the lingering nocturne
Through the window
How only tonight
Without a little bit of sound
Without a little bit of sound
 
Everywhere is the light of the moon
Broken and quiet
Drowsiness overcome deeply conscious
Do not remember the sun's face
Calm Galaxy
Never know where to stream
Close my eyes and recite a poem
Dr. Tze-Min Ition Tsai was born in 1957 in Taiwan (Republic of China), he is an Associate Professor at Asia University, Taiwan, holds a Ph.D. in Chemical Engineering and an M.S. in Applied Mathematics. He is equal affection in science, mathematics and literature. Furthermore, he is a columnist for several poetry journals in his country. His poems have been translated into more than a dozen languages, published in many countries. He has received numerous awards for his poetical and narrative works.
Alguna Vez me Dijo
 
A Donde ibas - amor prohibido
Cuando te fuiste de mi vida tan pesada
¿Sabes que me quede?
De veras - todavía en el cuarto
Donde amábamos, de vez en cuando
Milagros nos abrazaran
Mientras que la noche andaba afuera
Sin tocandonos: Adios.
 
El dia ya llego
Nos llama la recepcionista
Sin saber lo que escondemos en el cuarto
La empieza de algo real, tan especial
Lo que nadie más podrá entender
Aunque a veces lo tratamos enseñar.
 
Hasta al fin tesoro
Amor prohibido
Tu, solo tu -
Que alguna vez me habías dicho -
Te amo.






Mis Manos
 
Mis manos nunca se quedan donde las aviso -.
Pero van buscando cosas en que soñaba anoche
Como pedazos de pan dispersados por la playa.
Ella viene comiendo
La gaviota que haga sobrevivir
En el mar de gris con sus olas turbulentas -
Siempre tiene que mantenerse en el cielo, sus alas trabajando
Cerca de mis pensamientos sombreadas,
Aterrorizando a mi -
Pero no tanto como las manos celosas
Aquellas cuales me escuchan como se fueran niñas -
Y por fin se descansan más tranquilas
De la vida sobre mis piernas.
He Once Whispered
 
Where have you gone
Forbidden love - we were together forever
Before you left my heavy life.
 
Did you know that I stayed -
I’m still here
In the room where we loved
Felt the hugs of miracles taking us under
While the night swam by outside the walls
Never knocking, nor bothering: Good-bye.
 
The sun is up - the day continues
Calls the irritable receptionist
She has no clue what we have invested in this -
Our little room
That she is interrupting
Something so special
A love no one will ever understand
Even if we try to teach them.
 
See you in the sky, my love
Until infinity I am waiting
My forbidden lover
Who once whispered:
I love you.

My Hands
 
My hands never sit where I tell them to.
Instead they go chasing after the visions in my dreams
Like a seagull pecking bits of bread from a beach.
For the bird bread can mean survival
From the sea of grey and its turbulent waves -
She must work to remain above its spray; flying
Close to my thoughts - which chase me like shadows.
Not nearly as frightful as my jealous palms
That now behave and listen -
And rest, finally, like good children;
From the world - lightly
Upon my thighs.
Elisabeth J. Ferrell-Horan resides in rural Vermont with her husband and two young boys. She finds happiness spending time in the barn with her animals and being surrounded by the beauty of nature in all its magic.  Elisabeth has a BA in American Literature from Southern Oregon State College and an MA in Creative Writing from Southern New Hampshire University. She also attended Universidad de las Americas in Puebla, Mexico as an undergrad.

Her secret talents include salsa dancing and singing Selena songs in Spanish. She still is lucky enough to dream in Spanish at times.