Happy Birthday E. Pauline Johnson.
It's E. Pauline Johnson's birthday today and I've been invited to read some of her poems at her birthplace, Chiefswood. Since Margaret Avison said that the best response to a poem is another poem, I "translated" a couple by two different proceedures. The version of "The Bird's Lullaby," I took all the words of the poem and made a new one. The version of "The Song My Paddle Sings" I translated through about 10 different languages in Google Translate and then edited. I've posted the original poem and then the translation.
the birds' lullaby
i
sing to us, cedars; the twilight is creeping
with shadowy garments, the wilderness through;
all day we have carolled, and now would be sleeping,
so echo the anthems we warbled to you;
while we swing, swing,
and your branches sing,
and we drowse to your dreamy whispering.
ii
sing to us, cedars; the night-wind is sighing,
is wooing, is pleading, to hear you reply;
and here in your arms we are restfully lying,
and longing to dream to your soft lullaby;
while we swing, swing,
and your branches sing,
and we drowse to your dreamy whispering.
iii
sing to us, cedars; your voice is so lowly,
your breathing so fragrant, your branches so strong;
our little nest-cradles are swaying so slowly,
while zephyrs are breathing their slumberous song.
and we swing, swing,
while your branches sing,
and we drowse to your dreamy whispering.
.
LULLABY BIRDS
we while is sing
the while to song
sleeping
while we their arms
to warbled day
we drowse pleading
while so strong
and little your birds
our you to all the now would have us
echo wooing through you
the hear lullaby
zephyrs swaying into wilderness is voice
we here swing we
dreamy swing
is branches slowly cedars
so breathing swing
shadowy and your garments,
branches twilight
drowse your nest-cradles is
to sing to lowly
to lullaby sing
to whispering swing
to dream i, we, and creeping be
to night-wind dreamy lying are
your whispering we longing
so drowse your cedars we
your sing
we your and your and anthems
to restfully sighing
are you dreamy swing
to reply and us to carolled branches
soft and us slumberous
us branches and sing
us dreamy sing
are so with breathing fragrant
us your whispering
your dreamy sing so
dreamy cedars your sing to sing
The Song My Paddle Sings
West wind, blow from your prairie nest,
Blow from the mountains, blow from the west
The sail is idle, the sailor too;
O! wind of the west, we wait for you.
Blow, blow!
I have wooed you so,
But never a favour you bestow.
You rock your cradle the hills between,
But scorn to notice my white lateen.
I stow the sail, unship the mast:
I wooed you long but my wooing’s past;
My paddle will lull you into rest.
O! drowsy wind of the drowsy west,
Sleep, sleep,
By your mountain steep,
Or down where the prairie grasses sweep!
Now fold in slumber your laggard wings,
For soft is the song my paddle sings.
August is laughing across the sky,
Laughing while paddle, canoe and I,
Drift, drift,
Where the hills uplift
On either side of the current swift.
The river rolls in its rocky bed;
My paddle is plying its way ahead;
Dip, dip,
While the waters flip
In foam as over their breast we slip.
And oh, the river runs swifter now;
The eddies circle about my bow.
Swirl, swirl!
How the ripples curl
In many a dangerous pool awhirl!
And forward far the rapids roar,
Fretting their margin for evermore.
Dash, dash,
With a mighty crash,
They seethe, and boil, and bound, and splash.
Be strong, O paddle! be brave, canoe!
The reckless waves you must plunge into.
Reel, reel.
On your trembling keel,
But never a fear my craft will feel.
We’ve raced the rapid, we’re far ahead!
The river slips through its silent bed.
Sway, sway,
As the bubbles spray
And fall in tinkling tunes away.
And up on the hills against the sky,
A fir tree rocking its lullaby,
Swings, swings,
Its emerald wings,
Swelling the song that my paddle sings.
WIND FROM THE WEST
Wind from the mountain
Wind from the west
The west wind blows and whistles through the grass
We are nothing but bones
Wind from the west
Our life is over
Nothing but bones
The west wind blows and
we were not counted
West wind, we wait for you
Fold our wings and sleep
There are angry songs
a river flowing over rocks.
a deep river flowing
a deep river flowing fast
We sleep beside the river
Rise like unexpected waves
We do not fear
our power will not be known
We left life early
Now we are far away
The water flows over us
The water flows over our bed
The corn is planted, the corn is harvested.
It wrote this song
this song for us to sing
Wind from the mountain
Wind from the west
The west wind blows and whistles through the grass
We are nothing but bones
Comments