Farwell /A Poem a Day/ 30th of April 2013

Alas

Farwell

I leave although I stay

I stay although I go away

Alas

Goodbye

Farwell

Lisbeth Nordin poem

Time / A poem a day/ 29th of April 2013

Time

I run with bare feet over the rag rug

The rag rug runs over the old worn wooden floor

where you ran before me on your naked feet

but the carpet is still growing out from the loom of wood.

Constantly the shuttle is running to and fro between the warp threads.

I hear the beat of the boom and the pedals gear.

But I do not see you.

You that weaves.

Tiden

Jag springer med bara fötter

 över trasmattan som löper på det gamla slitna trägolvet

där sprang du före mig på nakna fötter

men  mattan växer ännu ut ur vävstolen av trä.

Ständigt ränner skytteln mellan varpens trådar.

Jag hör hur bommen slår och hur tramporna växlar skälet.

Men jag ser dig inte.

Du som väver.

tími

Ég hlaupa með berum fótum yfir

rag gólfmotta sem keyrir á gamla slitinn tré hæð

þar sem þú hleypur á undan mér á berum fótum

en teppi vex enn út loom úr tré.

Allan tímann í gangi um rútuferðir milli undið þræði.

Ég heyri uppsveiflu högg og hvernig pedali gír ástæðan.

En ég sé þig ekki.

Þú vefnaður.

Lisbeth Nordin /poem

RIddle me /A Poem a Day/ the 28th of April 2013

collage: Lisbeth Nordin

Riddle me

Riddle me

Knight of the unknown heights

Ride through my forest in fading twilight

Forgotten, forgiven, but never forbidden

Riddle me, riddle me

Riding knight

through the blackening forest 

in the sleeping night

forget me, forgive me but never forbid me

to riddle me, ride me through the forest in fading twilight.

segja mér gátu

segja mér gátu

Knight frá óþekktum hæðum

Útreiðar í gegnum skóg í fading sólsetur

Gleymt, fyrirgefið, en aldrei bannað

segðu mér, segðu mér gátu þína

Riding riddari

gegnum svartan skóginum svefn nóttina

gissa min

gissa min gåta

ridande ryttare riddare

av gåtfulla gränslösa vidder

ridande ryttare räddare

i gråvättars skymningsgrå skog

glömd, försvunnen, förrunnen

säg mig din, säg mig din gåta

ryttare riddare ridande

i skymningsmörk sovande skog

Lisbeth Nordin poem

A Poem a day/ the 27th of April 2013

Black me, black me, beauty blessed

Beam me, beam me, blossom blunt

Bear me, bear me, and break that broken brittle badge

Bees are buzzing me, bless and buzz me brave and bold

Thy bareheaded queens behold.

Blackness me, darkness me, blessed beauty of the beast

Shine me, shine me, thy flowering birds and beaks

Carry me, carry me, and break that broken fragile shield

Buzz me bee, bless me and swarm me brave and bold

Let your bare-headed bridal queens be amazed.

Svärta mig, svärta mig, välsignade vackerhet

gläns mig, gläns mig, blommande brokiga blad

Bär mig, bär mig och bryt den brutna sköra skölden

Bi surra mig, välsigna mig och svärma mig modig och djärv

Låt dina barhuvade drottningar häpna.

Svartur mér, svartur mig, fegurð blessuð

Geisla mig, geisla mig, blóma barefli

Bera mig, bera mig og brjóta þessi brotinn brothætt skjöldur

Býflugur eru buzzing mig, blessa og munnmæli mig hugrakkur og djarfur

Thy bareheaded drottningarnar sjá.

No, this poem is not meant to be clear to read like icy water, it´s more like nonsens, playing with words and the meaning of the word,  The translation into icelandic may be wrong, (you may correct me) but the language is so poetic in every word, so maybe we can amnage anyway.

A Poem a Day in April/ the 26th of April 2013

http://www.napowrimo.net

NAPOWRIM0  ask you and me to write a poem a day. This is my contribution:

Today

Blue is running across the sky and swallows the gray.

Green crawls out of the ground and eat the dead colors up.

The very small one fetches the sun 

and throw the rain away to the place where the flowers are crying.

On another day.

Idag

Blå springer över himlen och sväljer det grå.

Grönt kryper upp ur marken och äter upp de förmultnades färger.

Den lilla hämtar solen

 och kastar bort regnet till den plats där blommorna gråter.

Till en annan dag.

I dag

Blue gangi yfir himininn og gleypir það grár.

Grænn skríður upp úr jörðinni og borða upp förmultnades litum.

Þessi litla ná í sólina 

og henda rigningu til þess staðar þar sem blóm eru að gráta.

Á öðrum degi.

Jabberwocky

En slidig ödling borvlad

I bryningen på solvis ples
Och lumpingen var brynklig och
den villa gnutten fnes.

Jabberwocky ur Alice i Spegellandet

Översättning av Gösta Knutsson

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Lewis Carrol; Alice in the Mirrorland

tomas tranströmmer, nobelpristagare i litteratur 2011

Inne i den väldiga romanska kyrkan
trängdes turisterna i halvmörkret.
Valv gapade bakom valv och ingen överblick.
Några ljuslågor fladdrade.
En ängel utan ansikte omfamnade mig
och viskade genom hela kroppen:
”Skäms inte för att du är människa, var stolt!
Inne i dig öppnar sig valv bakom valv oändligt.
Du blir aldrig färdig, och det är som det skall.”
Jag var blind av tårar
och föstes ut på den solsjudande
piazzan tillsammans med Mr och Mrs Jones,
Herr Tanaka och Signora Sabatini,
och inne i dem alla öppnade sig valv bakom valv oändligt.

Ur diktsamlingen ”För levande och döda ” (1989)

Romanesque Arches
(translated by Robin Fulton)
Inside the huge romanesque church the tourists jostled in the half darkness.
Vault gaped behind vault, no complete view.
A few candle-flames flickered.
An angel with no face embraced me
and whispered through my whole body:
“Don’t be ashamed of being human, be proud!
Inside you vault opens behind vault endlessly.
You will never be complete, that’s how it’s meant to be.”
Blind with tears
I was pushed out on the sun-seething piazza
together with Mr. and Mrs. Jones, Herr Tanaka and Signora Sabatini
and inside them all vault opened behind vault endlessly.