Alan Gillis, in and out of Faroese

[hdw]

Alan Gillis is a poet and academic from Northern Ireland who teaches at Edinburgh University.

http://www.gallerypress.com/Authors/...s/agillis.html

I had never heard of him until I came across his name in the Faroese literary magazine Vencil. This particular issue has one poem by him, translated into Faroese with the title Framstig, which means 'Progress'.

I have tried in vain to find the original English version of this poem, so I decided, as a little linguistic exercise, to back-translate the Faroese into English myself. I don't claim any literary merit for my version, but I think it's a reasonable paraphrase of the poem.

First, the Faroese version:-

Framstig

Tey siga, at í mong ár steig Belfast aftureftir,
og tað er frálíkt nú at síggja nøkur framstig.
So eg vænti, vit kunnu síggja fram ímóti, at kistur
verða tiknar upp úr moldini. Eg vænti, at sjúkrabilar
fara at leggja tey deyðu aftur millum múrsteinsbrotini
fyri at spreingjast heil aftur. Hvørja løtu
fara hundrað túsund glassplintur
at skapa ógjørlig mynstur í luftini,
áðrenn tey sameinast í einum klárum
rúti. Har ígjøgnum eitt nýsamankomið høvd
fer at hyggja út og verða hugtikiða av smædna, unga manninum,
sum tekur bumbu sína úr bygningum og koyrir heim.

(translated into Faroese by Marna Jacobsen)


Progress

They say that for many years Belfast has been going backwards,
and that it's great now to see a little bit of progress.
So I'm hoping we can look forward to seeing coffins
being taken up out of the ground. I'm hoping that ambulances
will lay the dead back among the fragments of brick walls
to be blown back together again. Every moment
hundreds of thousands of glass splinters are going to make
indistinct patterns in the air,
before merging into one clear pane. And through it
a new-reassembled head peeps out and is fascinated
by the shy young man taking his bomb out of the building
and driving home.

(back-translated into English by HD Watson)

[DWM]

Here's the original poem by Alan Gillis:

Progress

They say that for years Belfast was backwards
and it's great now to see some progress.
So I guess we can look forward to taking boxes
from the earth. I guess that ambulances
will leave the dying back amidst the rubble
to be explosively healed. Given time,
one hundred thousand particles of glass
will create impossible patterns in the air
before coalescing into the clarity
of a window. Through which, a reassembled head
will look out and admire the shy young man
taking his bomb from the building and driving home.

[hdw]

Oh well, I got the gist of it.

Harry

[DWM]

Here's a (cod) Scots version of the poem:

Thay say 'at fur years Bellfest wis backwards
An' it's stoatin noo tae see some progress.
Sae Ah guess we can swatch forward tae takin' boxes
Frae th' earth. Ah guess 'at ambulances
will lae th' dyin' back amidst th' rubble
tae be explosively healed. Given time,
ain hunder thoosain particles ay glass
will create impossible patterns in th' air
befair coalescin' intae th' clarity
of a windae. Ben which, a reassembled heed
will swatch it an' admire th' shy cheil
takin' his bomb frae th' buildin' an' drivin' haem.

[hdw]

Cod Ulster Scots, I hope?

Harry

[DWM]

It's actually machine translation Scots.

[hdw]

It's actually machine translation Scots.

My God, thanks(??) for alerting me to that.

Harry

[DWM]

You're welcome, Harry. The machine translation apparently works for other speech forms, too.