Johan Sandberg McGuinne 
Translator

on Lyrikline: 20 poems translated

from: ruso, sueco, sami meridional, gaélico escocés to: sami meridional, inglés, alemán, sueco

Original

Translation

УРОК ПЕНИЯ

ruso | Wjatscheslaw Kuprijanow

Человек
изобрел клетку
прежде
чем крылья

В клетках
поют крылатые
о свободе
полета

Перед клетками
поют бескрылые
о справедливости
клеток

© Вячеслав Куприянов
Audio production: Вячеслав Куприянов, 2013

LAAVLOMELÅHKOE

sami meridional

såajah gujht gaavnehti
aarebi goh
buvrieb
bigki

buvrine
almetjh såajajgujmie
såajaj frijjesvoeten bïjre
laavloejin

buvri ålkolen
såajehts almetjh
buvrien rïektesvoeten bïjre
laavloejin

Translation to South Saami by Johan Sandberg McGuinne

Silence

sueco | 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.

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

Silence

inglés

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

Translated into English by Johan Sandberg McGuinne

Veeride laavloen vaadtseme

sami meridional | 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

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

Ich ging auf das Fjäll um zu singen

alemán

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  

Ins Deutsche übersetzt von Johan Sandberg McGuinne

Veeride laavloen vaadtseme

sami meridional | 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

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

I went to the hills to sing

inglés

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.

Translated into English by Johan Sandberg McGuinne

Jaame-aajmoe

sami meridional | 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

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

The edge of death

inglés

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.

Translated into English by Johan Sandberg McGuinne

Jaame-aajmoe

sami meridional | 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

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

Todesgedanken

alemán

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  

Ins Deutsche übertragent von Johan Sandberg McGuinne

Solkeldh-vïrre

sami meridional | 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

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

Diluted blood

inglés

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.

Translated into English by Johan Sandberg McGuinne

Solkeldh-vïrre

sami meridional | 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

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

Blutverwässerung

alemán

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  

Ins Deutsche übersetzt von Johan Sandberg McGuinne

Gïele-gæjsa

sami meridional | 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

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

This Vessel Called Language

inglés

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

Translated into English by Johan Sandberg McGuinne

Gïele-gæjsa

sami meridional | 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

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

Sprachgefäß

alemán

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 

Ins Deutsche übersetzt von Johan Sandberg McGuinne

mah prihtjiedieh

sami meridional | 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.

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

Bittersweet

inglés

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

Translated into English by Johan Sandberg McGuinne

Jah ib manne daejrieh gænnah giejnie soptsestib.

sami meridional | 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.

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

And I never truly knew who I was talking to

inglés

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 

Translated into English by Johan Sandberg McGuinne

[min čáppa gollegiella...]

sami meridional | 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?

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

[This gilded tongue of beauty]

inglés

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?

Translated into English by Johan Sandberg McGuinne

[min čáppa gollegiella...]

sami meridional | 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?

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

[unsere goldene Sprache]

alemán

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?  

Ins Deutsche übertragen von Johan Sandberg McGuinne

[A mhuir]

gaélico escocés | 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.

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

[saalhteme]

sami meridional

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

Translated into South-Sami by Johan Sandberg McGuinne

[A mhuir]

gaélico escocés | 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.

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

[O sea]

inglés

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.

Translated into English by Johan Sandberg McGuinne

[A mhuir]

gaélico escocés | 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.

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

[mein liebes Meer]

alemán

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  

Ins Deutsche übersetzt von Johan Sandberg McGuinne

mah prihtjiedieh

sami meridional | 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.

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

An dessen bitteren Geschmack

alemán

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.

Ins Deutsche übersetzt von Johan Sandberg McGuinne

Maadtegh

sami meridional | 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

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

Wurzel

alemán

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 

Ins Deutsche übersetzt von Johan Sandberg McGuinne

Maadtegh

sami meridional | 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

© Johan Sandberg McGuinne
Audio production: Haus für Poesie, 2019

Rötter

sueco

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

Översättning: Johan Sandberg McGuinne