Seán Ó Ríordáin's Apathy Is Out featured on The Poetry Programme
Interviews with Greg Delanty about Seán Ó Ríordáin on RTE Radio 1's The Poetry Programme & in The Corkman; reviews in Irish Examiner & The Lake. Louis de Paor...
There’s not a fly, moth, bee,
man, or woman created by God
whose welfare’s not our responsibility;
to ignore their predicament
isn’t on.
There’s not a madman in Mad Valley
we shouldn’t sit with
and keep company, since
he’s sick in the head
on our behalf.
There’s not a place, stream or bush,
however remote; or a flagstone
north, south, east or west
that we shouldn’t consider
with affection and empathy.
No matter how far South Africa,
no matter how distant the moon,
they’re part of us by right:
there’s not a single spot anywhere
we’re not a part of. We issue from everywhere.
Ní Ceadmhach Neamhshuim
Níl cuil, níl leamhan, níl beach,
Dar chruthaigh Dia, níl fear,
Nach dualgas dúinn a leas,
Níl bean; ní ceadmhach neamhshuim
A dhéanamh dá n-imní;
Níl gealt i ngleann na ngealt,
Nár chuí dhúinn suí lena ais,
Á thionlacan an fhaid
A iompraíonn thar ár gceann,
Ár dtinneas-ne ’na mheabhair.
Níl áit, níl sruth, níl sceach,
Dá iargúlta iad, níl leac,
Bídís thuaidh, thoir, thiar nó theas,
Nár cheart dúinn machnamh ar a suíomh,
Le gean is le báidhíocht;
Dá fhaid uainn Afraic Theas,
Dá airde í gealach,
Is cuid dínn iad ó cheart:
Níl áit ar fuaid na cruinne
Nach ann a saolaíodh sinne.
*
The Swap
‘Come here’ said Turnbull, ‘Take a look at the sorrow
in the horse’s eyes;
if you had hooves under you like that, you’d have sorrow
in your eyes as well.’
It was as clear as day he got the sorrow
in the horse’s eyes.
He reflected so deeply in them that he finally
found himself inside the horse.
I looked at the horse to catch the sorrow
welling in his eyes
and saw Turnbull’s eyes gaping straight at me
out of the horse’s skull.
I looked at Turnbull and checked again
and saw on his face
the immense eyes, speechless with sorrow –
the horse’s eyes.
Malairt
‘Gaibh i leith,’ arsa Turnbull, ‘go bhfeice tú an brón
I súilibh an chapaill,
Dá mbeadh crúba chomh mór leo sin fútsa bheadh brón
Id shúilibh chomh maith leis.’
Agus b’fhollas gur thuig sé chomh maith sin an brón
I súilibh an chapaill,
Is gur mhachnaigh chomh cruaidh air gur tomadh é fá dheoidh
In aigne an chapaill.
D’fhéachas ar an gcapall go bhfeicinn an brón
’Na shúilibh ag seasamh,
Do chonac súile Turnbull ag féachaint im threo
As cloigeann an chapaill.
D’fhéachas ar Turnbull is d’fhéachas air fá dhó
Is do chonac ar a leacain
Na súile rómhóra bhí balbh le brón –
Súile an chapaill.
*
O Language Half Mine
Who tied this bond between us,
O language half mine?
If you won’t fully have me, what’s the use?
I’m not much good at giving line.
There’s another one after me.
She says ‘You’re mine.’
I’m caught between the pair of you
and am torn in two.
I need to be always around you,
taken solely by you
or else I’ll be robbed of your refuge
and robbed of myself.
A half a mind never grinds properly.
I have to give in to you totally
though you’re not generous with your goods,
O language half mine.
A Theanga Seo Leath-Liom
Cé cheangail ceangal eadrainn,
A theanga seo leath-liom?
Muran lán-liom tú cén tairbhe
Bheith easnamhach id bhun?
Tá teanga eile in aice leat
Is deir sí linn ‘Bí liom,’
Do ráinig dúinn bheith eadraibh,
Is is deighilte sinn ó shin.
Ní mór dúinn dul in aice leat
Go sloigfí sinn ionat
Nó goidfear uainn do thearmann,
Is goidfear uaitse sinn.
Ní mheileann riamh leath-aigne,
Caithfeam dul ionat;
Cé nach bog féd chuid a bhraithim tú,
A theanga seo leath-liom.
*
Behind the House
Tír na nÓg is behind the house,
a fantastic, topsy-turvy place;
four-footed characters pace
about without shirt or shoes,
without English or Irish.
A cloak grows on each back
in this hugger-mugger place,
a tongue’s spoken behind the house
no one could understand but Aesop
and he’s in the dust now.
There’s hens and chickens;
a steady, uncouth duck;
a great black dog hounding the land
snarling at everyone;
and a cat milking the sun.
In the far corner there’s a rubbish heap;
all the wonders of the world lie there;
a candlestick; buckles; an old straw hat;
a mute toy trumpet;
and a white kettle like a goose.
It’s there the gypsies come,
saintly, harum scarum,
kin to the back of the home;
it’s here they seek alms
at the back of every house in Ireland.
I’d like to be behind the house
in the darkness, late,
to witness, in the moonlight
the scholarly pooka,
Professor Aesop himself.
Cúl an Tí
Tá Tír na nÓg ar chúl an tí,
Tír álainn trína chéile,
Lucht ceithre chos ag siúl na slí
Gan bróga orthu ná léine,
Gan Béarla acu ná Gaeilge.
Ach fásann clóca ar gach droim
Sa tír seo trína chéile,
Is labhartar teanga ar chúl an tí
Nár thuig aon fhear ach Aesop,
Is tá sé siúd sa chré anois.
Tá cearca ann is ál sicín,
Is lacha righin mhothaolach,
Is gadhar mór dubh mar namhaid sa tír
Ag drannadh le gach éinne,
Is cat ag crú na gréine.
Sa chúinne thiar tá banc dramhaíl’
Is iontaisí an tsaoil ann,
Coinnleoir, búclaí, seanhata tuí,
Is trúmpa balbh néata,
Is citeal bán mar ghé ann.
Is ann a thagann tincéirí
Go naofa, trína chéile,
Tá gaol acu le cúl an tí,
Is bíd ag iarraidh déirce
Ar chúl gach tí in Éirinn.
Ba mhaith liom bheith ar chúl an tí
Sa doircheacht go déanach
Go bhfeicinn ann ar chuairt gealaí
An t-ollaimhín sin Aesop
Is é ina phúca léannta.
Contents List
Clár | Contents
9 Preface
11 Introduction (2005-2017)
an Eireaball Spideoige (1952) | from A Robin’s Tail
Apologia 20 | 21 Apologia
An Dall sa Studio 22 | 23 The Blindman in the Studio
An Leigheas 24 | 25 The Cure
An Cheist 26 | 27 The Question
A Sheanfhilí, Múinídh dom Glao 28 | 29 Old Poets, Teach Me your Call
Bacaigh 30 | 31 Beggar
An Peaca 32 | 33 The Sin
An Doircheacht 34 | 35 Darkness
An Stoirm 36 | 37 The Storm
Sos 38 | 39 Rest
Cláirseach Shean na nGnáthrud 40 | 41 The Old Harp of Ordinary Things
Do Dhomhnall Ó Corcora 42 | 43 To Daniel Corkery
Adhlacadh mo Mháthar 46 | 47 My Mother’s Burial
Na Fathaigh 50 | 51 The Giants
Cúl an Tí 54 | 54 Behind the House
Malairt 56 | 57 The Swop
Cnoc Mellerí 58 | 59 Mount Melleray
An Bás 64 | 65 Death
Ceol 66 | 67 Music
Oileán agus Oileán Eile 68 | 69 An Island and Another Island
Saoirse 78 | 79 Freedom
Siollabadh 84 | 85 Syllabling
an Brosna (1964) | from Kindling
A Ghaeilge im Pheannsa 88 | 89 O Irish in My Pen
Rian na gCos 90 | 91 Footprints
Claustrophobia 94 | 95 Claustrophobia
An Feairín 96 | 97 The Maneen
Seachtáin 98 | 99 A Week
Reo 100 | 101 Cold Snap
Na Leamhain 102 | 103 The Moths
In Absentia 104 | 105 In Absentia
An Moladh 108 | 109 The Praise
A Theanga Seo Leath-Liom 110 | 111 O Language Half Mine
Fiabhras 112 | 113 Fever
Tost 114 | 115 Silence
Tulyar 116 | 117 Tulyar
An Lacha 118 | 119 The Duck
Colm 120 | 121 Colm
An Gealt 122 | 123 The Mad Woman
Bagairt na Marbh 124 | 125 Dread of the Dead
An Dá Ghuth 126 | 127 The Two Voices
Soiléireacht 128 | 129 Clarity
Catchollú 130 | 131 Catology
Duine 132 | 133 People
File Arís 134 | 135 Return again
an Línte Liombó (1971) | from Limbo Lines
Línte Liombó 138 | 139 Limbo Lines
Súile Donna 140 | 141 Brown Eyes
Ceol Ceantair 142 | 143 Local Music
Cloch Scáil 144 | 145 Quartz Stone
Aistriú 146 | 147 Transformation
Tar Éis Dom É Chur go Tigh na nGadhar 148 | 149 After Sending Him to the Doghouse
Solas 150 | 151 Light
Bás Beo 152 | 153 Live Death
Obair 154 | 155 Work
Ní Ceadmhach Neamhshuim 156 | 157 Apathy Is Out
Dom Chairde 158 | 159 To My Friends
Mise 160 | 161 Me
from Tar Éis mo Bháis (1978) | from After My Death
Clónna Uber Alles 164 | 165 Forms, Above All
Údar 166 | 167 Author
Barra Na hAille, Dún
Chaoin, Lúnasa 1970 168 | 169 Clifftop, Dunquin, August 1970
Gaoth Liom Leat 170 | 171 A Dithering Wind
