Maria Grech Ganado
Translator
on Lyrikline: 2 poems translated
from: maltês to: inglês
Original
Translation
Iċ-Ċimiterju ta’ Arlington, Virginia
maltês | Adrian Grima
F’din l-ewwel skola fil-miftuħ li qatt żort
hawn il-bankijiet u l-istudenti kwieti u ggalbati
imqegħdin f’ringieli kważi perfetti.
Is-skiet mhuwiex żball, jew passività,
jew ingratitudni lejn l-għalliema.
Li kellhom jitgħallmu tgħallmuh,
u issa jisktu huma biex nitgħallmu aħna
li nduru u nħufu f’dawn il-klassijiet moderni
mingħajr ħjiel, kieku ma jgħidulniex ta’ qabilna,
li sibna ruħna fl-aħjar skola possibbli.
Uħud mill-ex-alumni għandhom bank
ikbar minn ta’ sħabhom
imma l-biċċa l-kbira laħqu ’ndunaw bid-differenza fil-qisien
u għamlu bank bħal tas-soltu,
kemm kemm joqgħod ġisem ta’ bniedem
u post fejn tħarbex xi ħaġa.
Arlington jgħallmuk kollox f’daqqa
u mbagħad ma jkollokx għalfejn issaqsi aktar.
The Cemetery at Arlington, Virginia
inglês
In this first open air school I’ve ever visited
there are desks and students who are quiet and diligent,
placed in rows that are almost perfect.
But the silence is no coincidence,
or passivity, or thanklessness or the teacher.
What they needed to learn they have learnt,
and they are silent now, so we can learn,
we who wander around these modern classrooms,
searching without a clue - unless given one by our ancestors -
to how we found ourselves in the best possible school.
Some of the ex-alumni have a desk
that is larger than that of their classmates
but the majority seems to have noticed this discrepancy in time
and had their desk cut down to size,
just big enough for a person’s body
and some space to scribble on.
At Arlington they teach you everything at once
and after that, there's nothing left to ask.
Baħar Jgħum f’Għajnejk
maltês | Adrian Grima
Int dejjem trid tmur timxi fejn il-baħar,
minn kullimkien trid tara l-fond u l-blu;
tinsisti li trid togħla ’l fuq miċ-ċinta,
avolja kbirt u l-biża’ jafek hu.
Bil-ġebla f’idek trid tinħabb u tinki,
trid tara fejn se tinżel, daharha lejk.
Int trid titbaħbaħ bħalha f’baħar mibdi,
trid timxi msaħħar bl-ilma jgħum f’għajnejk.
Il-qamar ħadlu postu l-mewġ imriegħed,
il-bogħod, is-skiet m’għadhomx jikkuntentawk.
Hemm baħar sħiħ imċafċaf tiela’ miegħek,
hemm ħoss ta’ ġebla u fond jitturmentawk.
Seas Swimming in Your Eyes
inglês
You always want to walk beside the sea,
observe the depths, the blue from everywhere
and you persist in jumping above the edge,
although you’re old enough to have known fear.
A lover wishing to tease, with stone in hand
you want to see where it will sink, after it flies.
You long like it to meet the sea’s beginning,
to walk enchanted with the sea in your eyes.
The tremulous water has now usurped the moon,
distance and silence no longer keep you content.
There’s an entire sea splashing its waves around you,
and now new depths and the swish of a stone torment.