Earlier this year I organised a blogging experiment, brining together fourteen poetry bloggers. Everyone was given a theme to respond to, and each linked to all the others – making, in essence, a digital magazine. Today, the experiment continues. This time with six English language and six Spanish language poetry bloggers. Any dialect of either language is permitted and no one has been obliged to accompany their blog with a translation. This could not have been possible without the hard work of Marta, who has organised the Spanish side for me, and of course, all my bloggers. The theme for this experiment is Broken Conversation. I hope you enjoy reading their work, I will.
Broken Conversation
When I still lived in dreams
I glimpsed it, like the tail
of the salmon as it re-enters
the falls.
Sitting in Calvanist pews
I sang psalms with
those for whom English
was a second tongue.
Old men who spent their
dreaming days in black houses,
who knew the meaning of
the names of mountains.
By the blackboard and off curriculum
we were told stories of Cuchulain,
Finn McCool, the history of the Gael.
They showed me photos of French beaches
smudged with uniforms.
Told how Norwegian sailors showed
them how to stand, feet firm, in a storm.
And looking down, with soft voices,
how Agnes lost her arm falling
asleep in a field at harvest.
In the same country
with this cities clangorous sound
I can not find if their lullaby tones,
and kindness born from weary life,
still exists.
The other lovely bloggers taking part
Roger Santiváñez Cisco Bellavista Jesús Ge Ana Pérez Cañamares Felipe Zapico Martaerre (Marta R. Sobrecueva) JoAnne McKay Rachel Fox Russell Jones Alastair Cook Scottish Poetry Library
Just testing the links! It works…
Babel-esque! Good post Mairi.
Very beautiful poem, Mairi.
The pace is lovely, and the choice of exploring what we hear, and what we remember, is probably just about perfect for a bilingual experiment. I’m particularly taken with the fourth verse.
And ‘lullaby’ – one of my very favourite words.
x
You have captured beautifully what I remember happening. It raises pictures in my mind of Hector telling you stories of Cuchulin and Alec speaking of Lewis.