liebe XII Love XII Love XII

lou
ä
mall
inn
roll
loo
roo
nou
lou
i
di

row
the
blin
richt
doon
noo
an
a’ll
row
thee

let
the
roller
blind
down
now
and
I’ll
let
you

     
Fitzgerald Kusz
From: morng sixtäs suwisu nimmä,
Rothenburg ob der Tauber, 1973 		Scots by Alexander Hutchison English by Sarah Tolley
     
es meer the sea the sea

es meer schbrichd middi felsn
es blaudäd, es brülld,
es flüsdäd seid millioonä joa

es meer werd ned mäid
es hörd ned auf
es machd immä weidä

es meer is blau
es is gräi
es is grau

es meer schbrichd middi felsn
di felsn horng zou
si schweing seid millioonä joä

es meer schbrichd middi felsn
di felsn braungs meer
es meer brauchd di felsn

miä väschdennä es meer ned
miä väschdennä di felsn ned
weä schbrichd mid uns 

the sea claiks to the craigs
it’s been gabbin’ an bellochin
an wheeplin for millions o years

the sea nivver gets wabbitit
nivver stauns still
it’s aye tyaavin awa

the sea is blae
is green
is grey

the sea claiks t’ the craigs
the craigs are herkin close
their tongues have been tethert for millions o years

the sea claiks t’ the craigs
the craigs are thirlt t’ the sea
the sea is thirlt t’ the craigs

we canna faithom the sea
we canna faithom the craigs
fa’s spikkin til’s?

the sea speaks to the rocks
it’s been chatting, been roaring, been
whispering, for millions of years

the sea doesn’t tire
doesn’t stop
it keeps going and going

the sea is blue
is green
is grey

the sea speaks to the rocks
the rocks listen
have been silent for millions of years

the sea speaks to the rocks
the rocks need the sea
the sea needs the rocks

we don’t get the sea
we don’t get the rocks
who speaks to us 

     
Fitzgerald Kusz
From: wouhii, ein lesebuch,
Cadolzburg 2002 		Scots by Alexander Hutchison English by Donal McLaughlin
     
iich möchäd ämall ...
 A widna mine ... I'd like to write

iich möchäd ämall ä gedichd schreim
des mä iberoll miidhiinehmä könnäd
su klaa daßs in jede husädaschn bassäd
ned viel gräißä wäiä daschndäiglä
obbä wemmäs rauszäichäd und vuälesädwirräd
aff amm schlooch allers anders

iich möchäd ämall ä gedichd schreim
wemmä draffrumdrambläd
derfäds ned kabuddgäih
wemmäs oozindäd
derfäds ned brennä
wemmä midderm messä neischdechäd
derfäds ned bloudn
iich möchäd ämall ä gedichd schreim
des kannä meä aufhaldn könnäd
dessi ausbreidäd wäi ä krankheid
gechä däi ka kraud gwachsn is
bissi jedä mid iä ooschdeckäd
iich möchäd ämall ä gedichd schreim
des einfach oofangäd
und nie meä aufhöräd
und middndrin iich

A widna mine, ae day, comin up wi a poem
that ye could cairry ony place:
that teeny it wid fit intil ivry trooser pocket
nae muckle bigger nor a hanky –
but if ye took it oot t’ read
aathin wid chynge in a blink

A widna mine coming up wi a poem
that if you danced aboot on it
widna faa t’ bits
that if you pit a licht til’t
widna be consumed
if you jabbit a knife intil’t
widna bleed

A widna mine comin up wi a poem
that quidna be foonert –
that wid spreid lik a dose o somethin
for which there widna be ony remeid
afore aabody wis richt smitten

A widna mine comin up wi a poem
that wid jist get under wey
an nivver come t’ a close
an smack dab in the middle o’t aa
wid be me

I'd like to write a poem at some point
that you could take anywhere with you
so small it would fit into every trouser pocket
and not much bigger than a hankie
but if you took it out and read it out
everything would change instantly

I'd like to write a poem at some point
that if you jumped about on it
wouldn´t fall apart
that if you set it alight
wouldn't burn
that if you stuck a knife into it
wouldn´t bleed

I´d like to write a poem at some point
that couldn´t be stopped
that would spread like an illness
for which there wouldn´t be a cure
until everyone had caught it

I´d like to write a poem at some point
that would simply start
and would never end
and right there in among it all
would be me
     
Fitzgerald Kusz
From: muggn, gedichte,
Cadolzburg 2007		 Scots by Alexander Hutchison English by Donal McLaughlin
     
4 Haikus    
in jedä nachd vo
jemand anders draimä:
su kummd mä aa undi di laid!
tae dream o ither fowk
ivry nicht – jist anither
wey o gettin acquantit
dreaming of someone else
every night
it’s just another way of meeting folk!
     
Fitzgerald Kusz Scots by Alexander Hutchison English by Sarah Tolley
     
ä naßkalde novembänachd:
wenn di audo schloufm
fangä di bamm zum blaudern oo
a caal dreich November nicht
fan the motors are nappin
the trees crank up wi their claik
a chilly damp november night
when the cars are sleeping
that’s when the trees start chatting
     
Fitzgerald Kusz Scots by Alexander Hutchison English by Sarah Tolley
     
drei zeiln ibern schnäi? aff di erschd fälldä
aff dä zweidn bleibdä lieng
aff dä driddn schmilzdä 		three lines aboot snaa
first it faas, syne it bides
neist it’s aa meltit awa 		three lines about the snow? on the first it falls
on the second it lies
on the third it melts
     
Fitzgerald Kusz
From: wouhii, ein lesebuch,
Cadolzburg, 2002. 		Scots by Alexander Hutchison

English by Sarah Tolley

     
so edz gäihi middä fernbedienung
aff di schdraß und drigg:
obbä di laid senn immä nu dou

richt, a’ve taen my remote
on a daunner ootside an thoombed it
– bit the fowk dinna tak the hint

so now i’ve taken my remote
out onto the street and pressed it
but the people are still there
     
Fitzgerald Kusz
From: schdernla, 144 haikus,
Cadolzburg, 1996. 		Scots by Alexander Hutchison English by Sarah Tolley