Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Translator
on Lyrikline: 20 poems translated
from: الروسية, السويدية, السامي الجنوبى, الغيلية الأسكتلندية to: السامي الجنوبى, الانجليزية, الألمانية, السويدية
Original
Translation
УРОК ПЕНИЯ
الروسية | Wjatscheslaw Kuprijanow
Человек
изобрел клетку
прежде
чем крылья
В клетках
поют крылатые
о свободе
полета
Перед клетками
поют бескрылые
о справедливости
клеток
Audio production: Вячеслав Куприянов, 2013
LAAVLOMELÅHKOE
السامي الجنوبى
såajah gujht gaavnehti
aarebi goh
buvrieb
bigki
buvrine
almetjh såajajgujmie
såajaj frijjesvoeten bïjre
laavloejin
buvri ålkolen
såajehts almetjh
buvrien rïektesvoeten bïjre
laavloejin
Silence
السويدية | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Att drunkna i tystnader –
förtrycket när oss;
kanske kan andra leva så.
Bär du kolt eller självhat?
Ägda av andra –
Vem tar ansvar för sorgen?
En gång vaggades du till bitterhet,
det var bra så
Kanske har du ändå jämfört dig själv med krokiga fjällbjörkar för länge nu
Och kanske pratade vi också om förtryck
om de som flyttats, och de som du mest av allt vill flytta igen
för att ingen lät dig välja när det verkligen betydde någonting
medan vi kokade beskt kaffe
och lät det färga våra tankar
glömde vi medvetet att lära dig att ta ansvar för din egen berättelse
Tiden läker ingenting, säger du
Med kniven karvar du bort din egen ryggrad
Om kvällarna söker du tröst i tystnaden,
som kolonial mekanism
och intern kontroll
Det är lättare så.
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
Silence
الانجليزية
The act of drowning oneself in shared moments of silence –
this denigration sustains us;
it might be possible for others to live like this.
Is that a coat of self harm, or the traditional clothes of your people?
Possessed by the state –
who is responsible for all this pain?
Once, you were cradled into bitterness,
and it suited you
Perhaps it’s time to realise that you’ve spent too many days compairing yourself to tortoured mountain birches by now
and perhaps we spent some time discussing this act of oppression
mentioning those who were forcibly removed from their homes, the once you would like to resettle again, retaliating against the lack of choices you were given when things really meant something to you
as we brewed our coffee,
the bitter taste mimicking our thoughts,
we made a conscious effort to write ourselves out of our own stories
time heals fuck all, you said
using a knife, you carve away your own spine
in the evenings you find solace in the silence,
upholding this colonial mechanism
to censor yourself from within
it’s easier like this
Veeride laavloen vaadtseme
السامي الجنوبى | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Veeride laavloen vaadtseme,
bïne gåbloeh dielhtine dïeveme
jah jïenge tjelmide gaptjeme
jah juelkiej nuelesne
maadtoe sjuahkeme
luejesne vöölkimh,
tjaktjen sjuvveste
orre daelvieb reakadahtih
jah mov bangsemh gujht plaavedin
gosse nommh fïerhten naestide
mijjen bijjelisnie vedtimh
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
Ich ging auf das Fjäll um zu singen
الألمانية
Ich ging auf das Fjäll um zu singen,
aber die Lungen füllten sich mit Schnee
und Eis bedeckte die Augen
und unter den Füßen stöhnten die Ahnen
in der Dämmerung brachen wir auf,
der Herbst tat seinen letzten Atemzug
du gebarst einen neuen Winter
und meine Lippen wurden blau
als wir allen Sternen über uns
Namen gaben
Veeride laavloen vaadtseme
السامي الجنوبى | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Veeride laavloen vaadtseme,
bïne gåbloeh dielhtine dïeveme
jah jïenge tjelmide gaptjeme
jah juelkiej nuelesne
maadtoe sjuahkeme
luejesne vöölkimh,
tjaktjen sjuvveste
orre daelvieb reakadahtih
jah mov bangsemh gujht plaavedin
gosse nommh fïerhten naestide
mijjen bijjelisnie vedtimh
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
I went to the hills to sing
الانجليزية
I went to the hills to sing, but the snow filled my
lungs and the ice covered my eyes
and far below, the land sighed.
We set off in the gloaming, autumn drawing its final
breath,
but you gave birth to another winter that night, and my lips turned blue
as we named
each star above.
Jaame-aajmoe
السامي الجنوبى | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Jïjjege
aktesne jaememen aajmojne joejkebe
gaedtine lib
datne gujht ihkuven saelthine
naestiej lïhke veedtsib
datnine mov minngelisnie
jalhts gööktine gïeline sïmmeminie
morhtje ajve aktine vaajmojne tjeaktja
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
The edge of death
الانجليزية
singing together throughout the night on the
edge of death
i was the beach
and you the never-ending sea
i walked close to the stars and you, following behind me
two voices whispering
and one heart alone beating.
Jaame-aajmoe
السامي الجنوبى | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Jïjjege
aktesne jaememen aajmojne joejkebe
gaedtine lib
datne gujht ihkuven saelthine
naestiej lïhke veedtsib
datnine mov minngelisnie
jalhts gööktine gïeline sïmmeminie
morhtje ajve aktine vaajmojne tjeaktja
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
Todesgedanken
الألمانية
Die ganze Nacht
joikten wir
mit Todesgedanken
ich war der Strand
du das Meer der Ewigkeit
ich wandelte nah den Sternen
du folgtest mir
zwei Stimmen flüsterten
aber ein Herz schlug einsam
Solkeldh-vïrre
السامي الجنوبى | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Solkeldh-vïrre dov lea, jeehtih
fïerhtene gïknjeli sisnie ov-våajnoes
raasth
mojhteles-laakan nejpine åareme geehpehteminie,
baajeb aerpie-såarkoeb
maadth-jeanojne ektiedidh
– novh gujht kolonisasjovne jeanoeb aaj smeejveme
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
Diluted blood
الانجليزية
Your blood is diluted, you said
Each drop intersected by invisible borders
So I cut open my
and let the inherited grief intermingle
with the river I once called my home
– it, too, torn asunder by colonial hands.
Solkeldh-vïrre
السامي الجنوبى | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Solkeldh-vïrre dov lea, jeehtih
fïerhtene gïknjeli sisnie ov-våajnoes
raasth
mojhteles-laakan nejpine åareme geehpehteminie,
baajeb aerpie-såarkoeb
maadth-jeanojne ektiedidh
– novh gujht kolonisasjovne jeanoeb aaj smeejveme
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
Blutverwässerung
الألمانية
Dein Blut sei verwässert,
hast du gesagt
Jede vergossene Träne
wird von unsichtbaren Grenzen des Kolonialismus absorbiert
Vorsichtig öffne ich meine Arterie mit einem Messer, und lasse den ererbten Kummer hinaus
in den Fluss meiner Urgroßmütter,
an dem ich immer noch lebe
Auch das, Fluss oder Blut, ist zuletzt von Kolonisatoren getrennt worden
Gïele-gæjsa
السامي الجنوبى | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
gïele lea gæjsab maab guedtebe
– dïhte lihphgierkehts lååvesjimmie –
jah vigkiejgujmie dievhtebe,
mah gierkiej vööste gæmhpoeh
mejstie aalkovisnie
böötin
sjaevehts baakoe leab
fïerhten tjaalesthtjomhph
ådtojne dålleste guedtebe,
gåessie orrejimmie båata
tsuemhtsine libie
mijjieh gujht vaeriej mojhtesh mah jåerrieh
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
This Vessel Called Language
الانجليزية
We take this vessel called language – decalcified echoes –
and fill it with strife, challenging the rocks from
whence it came
i am the word not spoken
but we carry each syllable like scars from a fire,
and when it all ends we will be the dust,
deconstructed mountains reverberating
Gïele-gæjsa
السامي الجنوبى | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
gïele lea gæjsab maab guedtebe
– dïhte lihphgierkehts lååvesjimmie –
jah vigkiejgujmie dievhtebe,
mah gierkiej vööste gæmhpoeh
mejstie aalkovisnie
böötin
sjaevehts baakoe leab
fïerhten tjaalesthtjomhph
ådtojne dålleste guedtebe,
gåessie orrejimmie båata
tsuemhtsine libie
mijjieh gujht vaeriej mojhtesh mah jåerrieh
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
Sprachgefäß
الألمانية
die Sprache tragen wir mit uns wie ein Gefäß –
ausgelaugte Echos –
und füllen sie an mit Zwietracht,
fordern die Felsen heraus
denen sie entsprang
ich bin das unausgesprochene Wort
wir tragen alle Silben
wie Feuermale,
wenn alles zu Ende geht
werden wir zu Staub,
zu Erinnerungen in den Fjälls
die ewig tanzen werden
mah prihtjiedieh
السامي الجنوبى | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Tjuvlesth mannem
dov dålle-njoektjeminie,
vierhkedh manneb,
baavhkh gaajhkh gierkie-baakoeh mov mïelkeste.
Girhkh manneb dov vueliejgujmie,
daarpesjeb vïhth
dabtedh
mah leah mijjen maadtegijstie sualadamme
mah prihtjiedieh, mah bihtsiedieh
mah voevten tjïrrh lååvesjieh
aellieh soptsesth –
mohte baajh mijjem gujhth
dov bangseminie
jårredh,
jah die sinsitnine bitnehtistedh.
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
Bittersweet
الانجليزية
Kiss me
with your fiery tongue,
render me hollow,
tearing each calcified word, root by root, from my rib cage
Suffocate me with your songs,
I long to once again get swept up
in the echoes of everything that was once stolen from our ancestors
I need to feel the bitterness, that which burns my tongue,
and echoes through this hollow remnant of myself
do not speak –
but let us
dance on your lips,
drowning ourselves in their promise
Jah ib manne daejrieh gænnah giejnie soptsestib.
السامي الجنوبى | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Ussjedh amma,
ibie dan bïjre soptsesth —
dïhte doen vearremes mojhtese –
ib sïjhth manneb tjïelkesth,
ib sïjhth tjïelkesth,
nov hævvi, ib sïjhth —
mohte iktesth årrodh goh månnoeh limen.
Gosse skuvlesne vihth eelkib dov namhtah,
ööhpehtæjja mij gïeleb manneste veedti munnjien jeehti
ahte
mijjen gïelh lea sosijaale faamoeh
mejtie rïektes almetjh utnieh.
Gïele mijjeb jeatjalaakan sjugnedi,
jah
eah juvrh vaallah maadtoe maehtieh soptsestidh.
Mohte jïenge dutnjien gujhth soptsesti doen
iehkeden.
Novh maa,
dellie idtjib riktih satneb guarkah,
jah sov ammes baakoeh mov bïeljine böölin,
mohte sutnjien læjhkan jeehkib hov.
Daaroesti munnjien.
Aellieh eelesovvh,
reerenasse dov gierkie-njoktjemeb daarpesje
Föörhkedib.
Skuvlesne gierkie-vïedtjh
mov vaajmoen bïjre tseegkib.
Jah die manneb daaroedahteme.
Baakoeh manneste rinti.
Dompes ålmine sjidtib
Jah
novh sån
mov rïektes gïelen namhtegh
manne gujhth unnebe sjïdtib.
Vaakumisnie datneb saangerdeb.
Fehkehteb
manne bïevesteminie
Manne
jah
gajhkesh mah leab,
datneb voejngehteb.
Dov åelkieh jïengen vööste,
monnen njoektjemh sjaavoejægan –
tjaetsie lea galmes
dov båadtsoes rudtjen tsiegkie
Muvhtene funhterdeb
jïs veasome sjïere-laakan sjidteme
jïs manne
ih datne
lib jïengen nuelesne årrome.
Goltelh
manne jeahtab.
Vallah nïekedeb.
Ib riktih daejrieh.
Datne leah mov uvte,
dov tjeehpes voepth goh skopmehkine
dov bïjre,
jah lopmetjelmieh mov åejvesne dabtab.
Månnoeh sïjhtien bååstede,
mohte daajrab gujhth
ib maehtieh daan histovrijeb jeatjahtehtedh.
Ib utnieh buerie åssjalommes dogkoe vaedtsedh.
Tjuatsa.
Månnoeh maehtien daesnie baetsedh
Dellie idtjib manne soptsesth,
mohte nïekedassesne
mov njaelmie lea soenine doepeme
jah
jïenge mov tjelmide gaptja.
Dle giesie daesnie,
mohte baajhkoe lij dov luvnie.
Ij biejvie mueltien nuelesne goekh
Mov bangsemh galmes deavab gaajesjieh.
Aarebi dah guaktah ligan rööpses muerjieh byöpmedamme,
mohte
tjåejjie ennje gåaroes,
jah ib doesth vielie vaedtsedh.
Gojhkelovveb.
Gïeleme
sakteb.
Gåessie dan bïjre ussjedeb,
maahtab datneb
ajve Luvlie Geavhtan gaedtesne mujhtedh.
Soejine dov åelkies gïetesne
jah viermine dov boelvesne
aerpie-maahtoe mij boelveste bualvan vaadtsa
jah
mov luvnie orriji.
Dov gïeth
goh
biejvielåblojne jaevrien raastah.
Ikth manneb lïerih
gusnie meehtib tjoevtjh daesnie gaavnedh,
mohte ib manne ennje daejrieh
gusnie maahtab datneb vihth gaavnedidh.
Daelvie
Månnoeh edtjimen maadtose
Lopmedoenehkinie
Sæjjan vaeriej jah jaevriej gaskoeh
Slïehtie monneb slïedtjedahteme.
Stoerremes jaevrien bealesne nåeledigan.
Bïegke datneb geahpode.
vallah aejkie irhkie,
Sjaavohth lea gosse vihth gaamedien.
Laake monnen maanabealeste.
Aellieh soptsesth
goeksegh maehtieh dijjeb govledh
jah
dijjeb laarhkodh
Jïs soptsestien
Jïs tjarkadien gujhth veasodh.
Læjhkan manne leab soptsesteminie.
Ib sïjhth veerine jaemedh
Mov gïele lååvesje
goh ræjrojne
goh ledtiedåehkine
Mohte ib maehtieh annje dab gïeledh.
Jah galmes daelvie-jaevresne veerine
datne leah batneminie.
Fïerhten biejvien mov nahkarinie.
Mov lea veelkes gierkieb
mov gårroeh gïetesne
mij mov plaave åerine batnenieh,
mohte væjrosne ib mij gænnah
maehtieh dab viehkiehtidh.
Datne jïengine joejkh,
manneb
jallh
jïjtjemdh joejkh
gïe riktih daajra?
jïjjege gïelh ektiedieh
månnoeh aktine.
Die vihth jaavran vaadtsah
dov sealadimmien gåajkoe.
Jaame-aajmoe on Repeat
Jïenge stryödje
jah
ean riktih skeejnh mij leah sjïdteminie
mohte goeksegi nuelesne
smalhtjarien.
Gåessie bååstede væjrose båatab
vihth pryöveb datneb tjöödtjestidh.
Ib sïjhth vaerie-jaevresne sealadidh
maehtien daesnie baetsedh
Åemehke munnjien vuartesje,
gïelehtadtje,
sov tjeehpes tjelmieh buelieh.
Aellieh straavh, månnoeh jåerhkien
Bïegke monneb njeala.
dellie maajetjh gïjre munnjien bööti,
biejvieb mannesne lööveldih;
nåejsie-maadtoe åara.
moerh edtjieh bahtsedidh
mov biejjelisnie
gåessie fahkab
Jah ib manne daejrieh gænnah
giejnie soptsestib
gåessie manneb gaarvenih,
mohte dov nomme ennje vaajmosne guadtab
sjïeline
vearelden stööremes staaloej vööste.
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
And I never truly knew who I was talking to
الانجليزية
Losing ourselves in thoughts,
we refuse to seek comfort in shared words —
we dare not dwell on this inherited trauma —
I do not want to turn myself inside out, to clarify
I do not want to explain,
I have never wanted anything less —
but to always remain this shared duality of ours
When I returned to school without you
the teacher who tore this language of ours from me told me
that
languages constitute a social capital
only to be possessed by civilised men
The ability to speak makes us unique
and
neither animals nor this land, infused with your
ancestors’ blood, can speak
And yet the ice spoke to you that night
Truth be told,
I never really understood him anyway,
and the foreign words burnt a hole through my ears
while I chose to believe his lies
He spoke Swedish to me, each word laced with pain
Remain a rigid nothing,
the government needs your calcified tongue
I filled my lungs with forced laughter.
At school I built stone walls
around my heart.
and sure enough, they managed to reshape me in their
image – tearing our words from me.
I became a mute man
and
just like that,
having had my language stolen from me
I grew ever smaller.
Your absence is more tangible in this vacuum.
I tear myself from my dreams,
drenched in sweat
I,
and
my essence,
breathe you into existence.
Your shoulders kiss the jagged ice floes,
as our tongues find peace in the silence –
the water is cold
against your naked spine
Sometimes I ask myself
if our lives had been different
if it had been me,
and not you
who had found themselves trapped beneath the ice.
Listen
I say
I might be dreaming.
I never really know these days.
Facing me,
you wear your black hair like a cape
around your shoulders,
as snowflakes leave sensory messages on my forehead
We long to return,
but I know far too well
that this history cannot be rewritten
I don’t think it’s a good idea to go there.
It’s snowing.
The two of us could stay here instead
Sure enough, I never said those words back then,
but in my dreams
my lips were sewn shut with threads of sinew
and
the ice covered my eyes.
The oncoming spring has quickly changed this place,
yet the cold of a hundred winters surround you.
Six feet under, the sun does not shine
My lips kiss the frozen ground.
The memory of newly picked red berries
linger,
but
the stomach remains empty,
and I dare not carry on.
I long for water
yet the thirst for my language
is stronger
Thinking back,
I could only ever picture you
resting cross-legged by the banks of Luvlie Geavhta.
The net-needle in your right hand,
with your fishing net spread across your lap
this inherited knowledge which is passed on from one
generation to the next
to
find itself dying with me
Your hands
mimicking
butterflies chasing each other across the loch
You taught me once,
how to catch whitefish here
but I have yet to learn
how to retrace your fading steps
Winter
We were headed back to the land of our ancestors
straddling skidoos from hell
between towering mountains and ice-covered lochs
the sleet and ice soaked the two of us to the bone.
We undressed on the banks of the vast expanse
The wind made you soar,
though the shackles of time plagued you
Forced by a childhood rule to keep silent,
we dare not speak as we put on our shoes again
Do not speak
the northern lights could hear you
and
tear you asunder
If the two of us open our mouths
if we dare to live.
And yet I speak
I do not seek my death in these mountains
My voice echoes across the land
like an avalanche
of birds
I have yet to catch a single one of them
And in a freezing mountain lake
you drowned yourself
on a dreamt, yet daily basis
I keep a pale, white stone
in my left hand,
allowing it to sink into the blue of my veins
but trapped in a winter storm, there is nothing
that could change the course of these events
you become the yoiked essence of a river,
as you sing the creation of my being
or
yourself
who knows these days?
at night, we let our voices intermingle
turning a dual longing into one
Once again, you walk yourself
towards your death
Jaame-aajmoe, the land of the dead, on Repeat
The roar of the ice rips itself into a billion pieces
and
I don’t quite understand what’s happening
but beneath the northern lights
the two of us disintegrate
As I return to the snowstorm
I try to make you change your mind one last time
My life is not meant as a sacrifice to a mountain lake
The two of us could stay here instead
They stare at me from the other side of death,
lips void of words
their black eyes burning like fires.
do not fear the inevitable, we have to go on
the wind swallows us whole.
At last the spring arrives,
you set the sun loose inside my hollow ribcage –
but the pregnant land is still asleep
when I awake from my slumber
there will be trees, their branches covered with flowers
cradling the heavens above me
And I never truly knew
who I was talking to
that day when you finally left me
but I still carry your name in my heart
like an amulet from the old days
hoping that it will protect me from the evils of this world
[min čáppa gollegiella...]
السامي الجنوبى | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
min čáppa gollegiella, mii addá gáđašvuođa ja duháhat ovdagáttuid
min siidaguoimmi varas,
dån bälle duv ehtjan vuobdan
mijjen tjaebpies gullie-gele,
mij gïengeles raejkieh barka jah jille vïedtjh tseegkie
åabpaj jah vïelli gaskemsh,
Aktene liehpie gåddáme duv
mijá tjáppa gållegiella,
mij ávkijt la dujsta midjijda gå mij agev rijddalip gaskama gå mij gulddalip duv
Hur har vi sårats för att hata oss själva så?
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
[This gilded tongue of beauty]
الانجليزية
This gilded tongue of beauty that we share, this gift of ravenous envy
and endless misconceptions,
running through the arteries of those who share this place with us
you’re tearing pieces from the echo in your own rib cage Our golden-hued language of endless beauty,
you’ve dug yourself deep into the ground, and raised towering walls
between brothers and sisters
together, we’ve minded you into the void our language of gold and beauty,
what use of you to us
if the mere sound of your voice fills us with anger
what horrors have we endured to foster this all-consuming self-hatred?
[min čáppa gollegiella...]
السامي الجنوبى | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
min čáppa gollegiella, mii addá gáđašvuođa ja duháhat ovdagáttuid
min siidaguoimmi varas,
dån bälle duv ehtjan vuobdan
mijjen tjaebpies gullie-gele,
mij gïengeles raejkieh barka jah jille vïedtjh tseegkie
åabpaj jah vïelli gaskemsh,
Aktene liehpie gåddáme duv
mijá tjáppa gållegiella,
mij ávkijt la dujsta midjijda gå mij agev rijddalip gaskama gå mij gulddalip duv
Hur har vi sårats för att hata oss själva så?
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
[unsere goldene Sprache]
الألمانية
unsere goldene Sprache, so voller Schönheit,
die Missgunst gebiert
und tausend Vorurteile
im Blut unserer Nachbarn,
du zerreißt dir Teile aus der eigenen Brust
unsere schöne goldene Sprache,
die sich selbst begräbt
und hohe Mauern errichtet
zwischen den Brüdern und Schwestern,
wir alle tragen sie gemeinsam zu Grabe
unsere schöne goldene Sprache
welchen Wert hat sie denn für uns
dass wir ewig miteinander streiten,
wenn wir deinen Klang hören
Wieviel Leid hat uns eigentlich dieser gegenseitige Hass gebracht?
[A mhuir]
الغيلية الأسكتلندية | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
A mhuir, suidh sìos ri m’ thaobh
air iomall an stuadh,
is leig dhomh òran eile.
Bha e tromhad an dàinig ceòl thugam;
gach rann ‘s gach sèisd bho d’ bhilean
mar ealt eun nar itealaich fo na reultan,
do ghàir-thuinn binn nar barcadh mu m’ cheann.
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
[saalhteme]
السامي الجنوبى
saalhteme, tjahkesjh dle mov baalte daennie mearoe-gaedtesne
jah vedtieh maa munnjien vielie vuelieh
datneste musihkeb åadtjome
fïerhten tjoejh, fïerhten vuelide dov bangsemijstie böötin dah lin gujht dåehkine ledtiejgujmie naestiej nuelesne gosse dov baaroeh mov bijjelisnie båaroeh
[A mhuir]
الغيلية الأسكتلندية | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
A mhuir, suidh sìos ri m’ thaobh
air iomall an stuadh,
is leig dhomh òran eile.
Bha e tromhad an dàinig ceòl thugam;
gach rann ‘s gach sèisd bho d’ bhilean
mar ealt eun nar itealaich fo na reultan,
do ghàir-thuinn binn nar barcadh mu m’ cheann.
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
[O sea]
الانجليزية
O sea, rest beside me
on the borderland of oceans and teach me another song.
Music came to me through you;
each verse, each chorus from your lips
like flocks of birds in flight under the stars,
the murmur of your waves washing over my head.
[A mhuir]
الغيلية الأسكتلندية | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
A mhuir, suidh sìos ri m’ thaobh
air iomall an stuadh,
is leig dhomh òran eile.
Bha e tromhad an dàinig ceòl thugam;
gach rann ‘s gach sèisd bho d’ bhilean
mar ealt eun nar itealaich fo na reultan,
do ghàir-thuinn binn nar barcadh mu m’ cheann.
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
[mein liebes Meer]
الألمانية
mein liebes Meer, bleib doch bei mir
an den Stränden der Ozeane
und schenke mir noch einen Joik
durch dich hindurch erreicht mich die Musik
jeder Ton, jedes Lied von deinen Lippen
wie ein Vogelschwarm unter den Sternen
wenn deine Wellen über mich hinwegrollen
mah prihtjiedieh
السامي الجنوبى | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Tjuvlesth mannem
dov dålle-njoektjeminie,
vierhkedh manneb,
baavhkh gaajhkh gierkie-baakoeh mov mïelkeste.
Girhkh manneb dov vueliejgujmie,
daarpesjeb vïhth
dabtedh
mah leah mijjen maadtegijstie sualadamme
mah prihtjiedieh, mah bihtsiedieh
mah voevten tjïrrh lååvesjieh
aellieh soptsesth –
mohte baajh mijjem gujhth
dov bangseminie
jårredh,
jah die sinsitnine bitnehtistedh.
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
An dessen bitteren Geschmack
الألمانية
Küss mich
mit deiner Feuerzunge,
mach mich leer,
reiß mir alle versteinerten Worte aus der Brust.
Erstick mich mit deinen Joikmelodien,
ich will mich immer wieder daran laben
daran was unseren Ahnen
gestohlen wurde
an dessen bitteren Geschmack
an dessen Brennen auf der Zunge
an dessen Widerhall in meinem Körper
sag nichts –
aber lass uns mal tanzen
auf deinen Lippen,
uns gegenseitig ertränken.
Maadtegh
السامي الجنوبى | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Jeehtib badth munnjien,
ibie maa saemieh
juktie saemieh dov gïelen vetsmieh lin,
jah ussjedib hov,
mejtie jïs nemhtieh
gåessie saejrieramme
gåessie jïjtjedh vaajeseb gaerviehtamme
gåessie asve dutnjien jilleste båateme,
mohte mijjen maadtoen maadtegh gujht guhkebe,
destie rïesegh annje sjïdteminie
jalhts ih leah dab luehpiehdamme
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
Wurzel
الألمانية
In einem zwanglosen Gespräch hast du mir den Namen
meines Volks verweigert,
weil die Samen deiner Sprache nur Unkräuter hervorbringen
und ich habe mir schon gedacht,
unter Berücksichtigung
deines Leidens,
der Verleugnung deiner eigenen Geschichte
und deiner westlichen Lebensangst
scheint deine Überzeugung dir wohl nun wahr,
aber die Reichweite unseren Wurzeln ist größer,
wir blühen immer noch,
ohne deine Erlaubnis
Maadtegh
السامي الجنوبى | Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Jeehtib badth munnjien,
ibie maa saemieh
juktie saemieh dov gïelen vetsmieh lin,
jah ussjedib hov,
mejtie jïs nemhtieh
gåessie saejrieramme
gåessie jïjtjedh vaajeseb gaerviehtamme
gåessie asve dutnjien jilleste båateme,
mohte mijjen maadtoen maadtegh gujht guhkebe,
destie rïesegh annje sjïdteminie
jalhts ih leah dab luehpiehdamme
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019
Rötter
السويدية
Du berättade att mitt folks namn
inte kunde vara vårt,
för att det egentligen betydde "frön" på ditt språk
och jag tänkte,
i din smärta
i din historielöshet
i din västerländska ångest
är det kanske så,
men våra rötter sträcker sig längre,
och vi blommar ännu
utan din tillåtelse