translation

Maria Picone

Maria Picone is a student at Goddard College’s low-residency MFA program and has degrees in philosophy from Rice and Princeton. She taught herself French after she attended a Descartes seminar as an undergraduate, in which she was the only one who couldn’t read French. Since then she has read not only philosophy but a wide range of literature in the original. She also has a personal affinity for French because she grew up hearing her grandmother often sing or curse in the language.

 

Riddle 37

english translation

Riddle 37

original Anglo-Saxon poem

Riddle 37 — Anglo-Saxon Original

Ic ζa wihte geseah—      womb wΦs on hindan
ζriζum aζrunten.   ψ|egn folgade,
mΦgenrofa man,      ond micel hΦfde
gefered ζΦt hit felde,      fleah ζurh his eage.
Ne swylteξ he symle,      ζonne syllan sceal
innaξ ζam oζrum,      ac him eft cymeξ
bot in bosme,      blΦd biζ arΦred;
He sunu wyrceξ,     biξ him sylfa fΦder.

Riddle 29

english translation

Riddle 29

original Anglo-Saxon poem

Riddle 29 — Anglo-Saxon Original

Ic wiht geseah     wundorlice
hornum bitweonum     huζe lΦdan,
lyftfΦt leohtlic,     listum gegierwed,
huζe to ζam ham     of ζam heresiζe;
walde hyre on ζΦre byrig     bur atimbran,
searwum asettan,     gif hit swa meahte.
wa cwom wundorlicu wiht    ofer wealles hrof,
seo is eallum cuξ    eorξbuendum,
ahredde ζa ζa huζe     ond to ham bedraf
wreccan ofer willan—    gewat hyre west ζonan
fΦhζum feran,     forξ onette.
Dust stonc to heofonum,  deaw feol on eorζan,
niht forξ gewat.     NΦnig siζζan
wera gewiste     ζΦre wihte siξ.

Riddle 27

english translation

Riddle 27

original Anglo-Saxon poem

Riddle 27 — Anglo-Saxon Original

Ic eom weorξ werum,    wide funden,
brungen of bearwum     ond of burghleoζum,
of denum ond of dunum.     DΦges mec wΦgun
on lifte,     feredon mid liste
under hrofes hleo.     HΦleξ mec siζζan
baζedan in bydene.     Nu ic eom bindere
ond swingere,     sona weorpe
esne to eorζan,      hwilum ealdne ceorl.
Sona ζΦt onfindeξ,     se ζe mec fehξ ongean,
ond wiξ mΦgenζisan      minre genΦsteξ,
ζΦt he hrycge sceal     hrusan secan,
gif he unrΦdes     Φr ne geswiceξ,
strengo bistolen,    strong on sprΦce,
mΦgene binumen—     nah his modes geweald,
fota ne folma.     Frige hwΦt ic hatte,
ξe on eorζan swa     esnas binde,
dole Φfter dyntum     be dΦges leohte.

Riddle 24

english translation

Riddle 24

original Anglo-Saxon poem

Riddle 24 — Anglo-Saxon Original

Ic eom wunderlicu wiht—     wrΦsne mine stefne,
hwilum beorce swa hund,     hwilum blΦte swa gat,
hwilum grΦde swa gos,     hwilum gielle swa hafoc,
hwilum ic onhyrge     ζone haswan earn,
guξfugles hleoζor,     hwilum glidan reorde
muζe gemΦne,      hwilum mΦwes song,
ζΦr ic glado sitte.      G mec nemnaξ,
swylce E      ond R O fullesteξ,
H ond I.      Nu ic haten eom
swa ζa sieξ stafas     sweotule becnaζ.

Riddle 15

english translation

Riddle 15

original Anglo-Saxon poem

Riddle 15 — Anglo-Saxon Original

Hals is min hwit    ond heafod fealo,
sidan swa some.     Swift ic eom on feζe,
beadowΦpen bere.     Me on bΦce standaξ
her swylce swe on hleorum.     Hlifiaξ tu
earan ofer eagum.     Ordum ic steppe
in grene grΦs.     Me biξ gyrn witod,
gif mec onhΦle     an onfindeξ
wΦlgrim wiga,     ζΦr ic wic buge,
abold mid bearnum,     ond ic bide ζΦr
mid geoguξcnosle.    Hwonne gΦst cume
to durum minum,     him biζ deaξ witod;
forζon ic sceal of eξle     eaforan mine
forhtmod fergan,     fleame nergan.
Gif he me Φfterweard     ealles weorζeξ—
hine breost beraξ—     ic his bidan ne dear.
reζes on geruman—      (nele ζΦt rΦd teale)—
ac ic sceal fromlice     feζemundum
ζurh steapne beorg      strΦte wyrcan.
Eaζe ic mΦg freora     feorh genergan,
gif ic mΦgburge mot      mine gelΦdan

Two Are Four

Two Are Four

          Original English Poem
          by Turner Cassity

Night without attribute,
To which you bring all elements in turn:
Air intermittent in your throat;
Earth errant in your heart.
Bright water where your wet lips part
For fire I bring you, even as you burn.

 


 

Translation Bake-Off: Submission Deadline almost here

This is a reminder to those who wish to participate in the Translation Bake-off as announced at the Distinguished Guest Forum that the deadline is almost here. Submit BEFORE THIS THURSDAY or lose your chance to participate!

Cheers,
...Alex

Call for Translations submission for the Able Muse / Eratosphere TRANSLATION BAKE-OFF

The Able Muse / Eratosphere Annual Translation Bake-off is here. Our very own Eratosphere classicist, Dr. Chris Childers, has just kicked off the event with a call for submissions. Chris will be screening the material for the our Distinguished Guest for translataion and Final Judge, Rachel Hadas (see bio below). I'm appending Chris' announcement next for those interested in submitting and/or participating. -- Alex.

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The Sultan’s Crown

english translation

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audio of The Sultan’s Crown
Jeffrey Einboden, John Slater reads the poem in translation, The Sultan’s Crown by Hafiz (translated from the Persian.)

The Sultan’s Crown

original Persian poem

The Sultan's Crown - Persian Original

دمی با غم بسر بردن جهان یکسر نمی‌ارزد
به می بفروش دلق ما کزین بهتر نمی‌ارزد

به کوی می فروشانش به جامی بر نمی‌گیرند
زهی سجادﮤ تقوﻯ که یک ساغر نمی‌ارزد

رقیبم سرزﻧﺸﻬا کرد کزاین باب رخ برتاب
چه افتاد این سر ما را که خاک در نمی‌ارزد

شکوه تاج سلطانی که بیم جان دران درج است
کلاهی دلکش است اما به ترک سر نمی‌ارزد

ﺒﺲ آسان می‌نمود اول غم دریا ببوی سود
غلط ﮔﻓﺘم که این طوفان بصد گوهر نمی‌ارزد

ترا آن به که روی خود ز مشتاقان بپوشانی
که شادی جهانگیری غم لشکر نمی‌ارزد

چو حافظ در قناعت کوش و از دﻧﻴﺎی دون بگذر
که یک جو منت دونان ﺒصد من زر نمی‌ارزد

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