Translation into Romanian

June 3, 2010 at 6:53 am | Posted in blogging, writing | 10 Comments
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Translation of poetry always raises difficult questions. Because the sound and movement in the language is an integral part of poetry, I believe that the translation is always a new poem, a variation on the original not a replication.

There is a sense in which all communication is a form of translation, of course, a process of encoding thought events into signs and signifiers which are translated or disencoded by the listener. And in a broader arc, there is a way of seeing the world in which it is a subtle and mysterious process of translation. Consciousness translates experience through the mediating filters of the mind which constructs waterfalls and sunsets in a delicate spiraling interplay between perception and conception…

When Ana asked if she could translate one of my poems into Romanian I was thrilled. This is the poem she chose…

different senses, different shoes

unless you are a practioner of the dark arts emerging
schmooze leadened sense
from Bowen Hills
highhat bass and most important
esoteric referensh
perhaps in sullen sluggish chains led
regretful wriggling uncomfortable on its claws
look for two most
unexpected arrivals
rival twice
then be gone

and here is the translation…

alte simţuri, alţi papuci

De nu eşti un practicant al actelor oculte originar
zvonite plumburiu (re)simţite
din Bowen Hills
chimval în timbru grav şi foarte important
o referinţǎ ejotericǎ
probabil cǎ îţi târşâi mohorât înlǎnţuitele
regrete furişate incomod pe gheare
te uitǎ dupǎ douǎ
ajunse pe neaşteptate
îndoitǎ rivalitate
şi te du.

(Thank you, Ana. You can hear Ana reading the poem in Romanian here.)

The Moondog Poem Saga

June 1, 2010 at 9:41 pm | Posted in blogging, writing | 11 Comments
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“The only one who knows this ounce of words is just a token,
is he who has a tongue to tell that must remain unspoken.”
Moondog. (from Bird’s Lament)

Moondog was a jazz composure who lived homeless on the streets of New York for twenty years. He dressed as a Viking and invented his own instruments which is very cool.  I am trying to write a poem about or based on him for the Extempore Jazz Writing competition. But it is proving difficult. My brain is geometric and I seemed to have lost that instinctive feeling for the architecture of water which is so much a part of jazz. Still, I have one verse, so we’ll see.

Blogging Through The Ages

April 17, 2010 at 6:47 pm | Posted in blogging, links, writing | 13 Comments
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I often think about whether certain writers of the past would make good bloggers. Some undoubtedly would, Richard Brautigan for instance, whose short and magical prose would be perfect. Oscar Wilde, can you imagine the joy of his blog?

In fact, whilst the word ‘blog’ is a very modern addition to the lexicon, the activity is as old as the written word itself. Today I discovered three fascinating blogs, each written in a different century.

One is written by a fellow called Vincent Van Gogh, among whose posts is one entitled “One Can Speak Poetry Just By Arranging Colours Well” and another called “Infinitely Beautiful”. Mr Van Gogh is a 19th century painter whose career is not going particularly well, so he is in perfectly compatible company here.

The other is by a strange and furtive English gentleman (although I use the term loosely) by the name of George Orwell. Mr Orwell claims to be a well-respected published author from the 20th century but his blog is largely about the weather and his vegetable garden.

The third is by a English gentleman by the name of Samuel Pepys. It is a fascinating journey through 17th century society by someone who surely ranks as one of the world’s most loquacious gossips.

‘Blog’ is such an ugly word. Perhaps we should just call it writing.

Happy Easter!

April 2, 2010 at 8:01 am | Posted in blogging | 14 Comments
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The world is full of eggs and rabbits. Fertility abounds. Spring is sprung in the North. Bring on the original celebration, a pagan festival of fucking. (Sorry, my Christian friends, but we were here first.)

Here is my favourite Easter poem. Eostra by Kiersty Boon (from her book which you should own, The Poet Busker).

And in more good news, Brad (of Maekitso’s Cafe fame) arrives today for a visit. It will be the first time we’ve met in person and we shall be experimenting with the video camera, so look out for some video poetry performance madness soon.

Happy Easter,

Getting behind the bid.

January 19, 2010 at 7:39 am | Posted in australia, blogging, football, sheer selfindulgence, writing | 12 Comments
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At some point you have to pick a true allegiance to something, and often it is already a lost cause. In the end though, you are not dead, you are sitting around on a beach watching children led by their mothers into the sea for the first time and thinking cool, The World Cup in Australia would be a nice thing,

I might write another football poem, should be a breeze,

(If I win these tickets, I will give them to someone, hmmm,

5000 red marks

November 24, 2009 at 6:37 pm | Posted in blogging, writing | 23 Comments
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(character voice) – Why must you ignore the rules of grammar? I will have to argue with you about every single one and I already know you will never give up. Stalemate.  And stop messing with the tenses leashes and start barking mad giving the characters names so we know who you are talking about.

Signed,

The Editor.

(another character voice) – Holey mackeral, sorry.  Grammar is a boojwah affectation. So which was the first red mark again,

Protected: Pam Brown agrees with a drunk bastard.

November 15, 2009 at 1:50 pm | Posted in blogging, contemporary poetry, memoirs, writing | Enter your password to view comments.
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