Archives

liebe xii
es meer
iich möchäd ämall …
4 Haikus

Author: Fitzgerald Kusz
Translator: Alexander Hutchison, Donal McLaughlin, Sarah Tolley

[Translations into Scottish by Alexander Hutchison and into English by Donal McLaughlin and Sarah Tolley]
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

 

Idendidäd
Ach Goddla fell …
Neia Reifn drauf

Author: Helmut Haberkamm
Translator: Alexander Hutchison, Donal McLaughlin, Kay McBurney, Robert Alan Jamieson

[Translations into Shetlandic by Robert Alan Jamieson; into Scots by Alexander Hutchison and Donal McLaughlin; and into English by Donal McLaughlin and Kay McBurney]
Idendidäd
Ydentitie
Identity

Wurri herkumm, wirri haaß, wemi
Gleichsiech, wemi noochgrood

Wosmer kaaßn hemm, wosmi
Baggd, wosmi miedgnumma hadd

Wossi gsehng hobb, wurri
Gweesn bin, wossi glernd hobb

Weni droffn hobb, wossi
Derlebbd hobb, wossi waaß

Wossi kann, wossi kenn, wossi
Du, wossi sooch, wossermer denk

Wos dief drinhoggd, wosmi
Ausmachd, wosmer noochgehd

Wossermer aufkalsd, wossermer
Kolld hobb, wosmer oodoo hemm

Mid wossi wos oofang, wosmer
Wos oogehd, aus wossermer wos mach

Fier wossi groodsteh
Fier wossermi grummleech

Obber wossi woor, binni nämmer, wossi
Bin, bleibi nedd, wossi sei meecherd

Binni nunni – Ach
Wos waaßn iech?

Quhar A’m kum fæ, quhit I ans ta, quha A’m
Da læklie o, quha I takk eftir

Quhit d’ir kaad me, quhit’s
Grippt me, quhit it is’at’s shiftit me

Quhit A’m led een apo, quhar A’m
Gien till, quhit ler A’m hed

Quha A’m kum apo, quhit A’m
Livt trow, quhit I wat

Quhit I kan, quhit I ken, quhit I
Dø, quhit I sæ, quhit I miesel tink

Quhit hookers doon ati’me, quhit’s ati’
Mie makk-up, dat’at byds wie me

Quhit A’m yoakkit me ta, quhit A’m
Gottin t’miesel, quhit d’ir døn t’me

Dat’at I dø wie, quhit ta me
Hæs wirt, dat’at I makk wie

Fir quhit A’m upstaandin
Fir quhit I krug me owir

Bit quhit iens I wis, I im næ mær, quhit I
Im, A’ll no byd, quhit I wiss I wis

A’m no yit bien – Ach
Quhit dan ken I?

Where I come from, what my name is, who I
Look like, who I take after

What they promised me, what
Grabbed me, what swept me along

What I’ve seen, what
I’ve been, what I’ve learned

Who I’ve met, what I’ve
Been through, what I know

What I can do, what I know well,
What I do, what I say, what I think to myself

What’s deep within me, what
Makes me different, what’s on my mind

What I’ve brought upon myself, what I’ve
saddled myself with, what they did to me

How I begin something, what is
My business, what matters to me

What I accept responsibility for
What I pinch and scrape for

But what I was I am no more, what I
Am I won’t remain, what I’d like to be

I’m not yet. Och –
What do I know?

Helmut Haberkamm
From:
Frankn lichd nedd am Meer,
ars vivendi verlag, Cadolzburg, 1992
Shetlandic by Robert Alan Jamieson
English by Donal McLaughlin
Ach Goddla gell mei Guuderla
Loard Abøn, Feth, mie Pierie ting
Oh lordy-me, rightey-oh, my babykins
hobberla sodderla siggsdersla etzerdla
hammer des aa widder gell

mei Guuderla

sabberlodder bloß a Momendla nu hobberla siggsdersla
braungmers scho morng nämmer machn no fraali gell

mei Heichderla

ach Godderla iech soogs ja bloß a wengala
bloß a Momendla nu siggsdersla

mei Muscherla

bloß a Hämpferla a Habbla a Hardla a Hafdla
bloß a Schieberla a Straiberla a Fardla a Steigla

mei Schlaggersla

gell nacherdla haddmer hald gschwind a Drimmla
un a bisserla sei Ruh aa widder gell

mei Waggersla

mei Bobberla mei Engerla mei Zeiserla
gell des säggsd du aa mei Scheißerla

siggsdersl

O waatch noo, dat’s de noo, sies du dis, noo
jun’s wis nierlie don noo, feth

mie pierie ting

mersie me, choost a pierie start, O waatch, sies du dis
we winna hæ dis t’dø da moarn, trootæl, feth.

mie pierie swiet

O Loard abøn, A’m sayin, choost a pierie græn a’dis
Choost a pierie start mær, sies du dis

mie pierie spoot

choost æ haandfu, æ kælhert, æ gadderie, æ koos
choost æ løffu, æ bowlfu, æ kyshiefu, æ kjist

mie pierie tingaboadie

feth we’ll hæ wis wir pukkil in a mienit
an dan spell wis a pieriemintie start, willin we

mie pierie jooil

mie poppit, mie pierie aenchil, mie lintie
feth døs du no sæ da sam mie pierie skittrie-ers

na sies du, don

Oopsadaisy, there we goesy-woesy,
that’s-a-better now, rightey-oh

my babykins

bless my soul, just a wee minute, oopsadaisy, there we goesy-woesy,
now we won’t need to do it tomorrow, will we now

my sweetykins

oh lordy-me, only just a little-bitty more now
just a wee minute, there we goesy-woesy

my honeykins

just a teensy-weensy handful, a spriglet, an itsy-bitsy clump, a titchy-witchy heap,
just a bunchy-wunchy, a posy-wosy, a sacky-wacky, a boxy-woxy

my cheekykins

rightey-oh, we’ll have a piley in just a jiffy-wiffy
and then we’ll be able to relaxykins, won’t we now

my cutykins

my poppet, my angelkins, my little chickadee
you think so too, don’t you, my shittiekins

here we goesy-woesy

Helmut Haberkamm From:
Des sichd eich gleich,
ars vivendi verlag, Cadolzburg, 2001

Shetlandic by Robert Alan Jamieson

English by Kay McBurney
Neia Reifn drauf
nooch Bertolt Brecht
Njoo Quhiels On
eftir Bertholt Brecht
New Tyres On
after Bertolt Brecht
Iech hogg auf der Staffl am Oostraafer doddn.
Mei Vadder dudd di Winderreifn nooschraum.
Wui herkumm, moochi nedd grood noo.
Wui hie will, moochi aa nedd grood noo.
Is Gscheidsde wär, iech langerd mied noo
Un dääd helf derzu bein Schraum. Obber
So hoggi bloß doo un hald mei Goschn
Un schau un waaß nedd, wossi meecherd.
Sixd, etz sinn di Reifn aa scho droo.
Mei Vadder wingd, iech fohr dervoo.
A’m hookirt’po da briggstenns, bie da bøt-daddir.
Mie fædir snøds da wintir-quhiel bolts doon.
Quhar A’m kum fæ, I hæna will t’gjing dær.
Quhar A’m set fir, neddir hae I will t’gjing daer.
Da thing wid be fir me t’rekk a haand dær
An gie a pierie spell apo da bolts. Bit
Dær I hookir me, haddin mie chaas
an gaan, no kennin quhit A’m eftir.
Sies du, fu shøn da quhiels ir gød t’læv.
Mie fædir wævs, as oot a’dær I dræv.
I’m on the front step beside the shoe-scraper.
My father’s putting on the winter tyres.
I don’t want to go to where I’m from right now.
I don’t want to go where I want to go to, either.
The best thing would be to lend a hand
and help put the tyres on. I remain
sitting there just, though, and keep my mouth shut.
And watch, not knowing what I want.
Look – that’s the tyres on already.
My father waves, I drive off.
Helmut Haberkamm From:
Frankn lichd nedd am Meer,
ars vivendi verlag, Cadolzburg, 1992
Shetlandic by Robert Alan Jamieson English by Donal McLaughlin

New Tyres Oan

ahm on the front step aside the shoescraper.
ma faither’s pittin the winter tyres oan.
where ah come frae, ah dont wantae go right now.
where ah want tae get tae, ah dont wantae go either.
The best thing wid be tae get a grip
an’ help pit the tyres oan. ah keep
sittin there just but an’ keep ma gob shut.
An’ watch, no knowin whit ah want.
Look – that’s the tyres oan awready.
Ma faither waves, ah drive off.   Scots by
Donal McLaughlin
New Tyres Fittit

A’m oot front on the step aside the buit-scratter.
Ma faither’s pittin on the winter tyres.
Far a’m fae, a dinna wint t’ ging richt noo.
Far a micht seek t’ging, a dinna wint t’ ging aither.
Giein him a haun t’ fit the tyres wid be
The thing t’ dee. Hoowivver, I jist bide
Humphin here an zip ma moo.
An watchin: nae kennin fit a wint.
Aye, look, at’s the tyres on aready:
Ma faither gies us a wave, an I heid aff.
Scots by Alexander Hutchison