Wendell Berry: Do mo ghariníonacha...

To my granddaughters who visited the Holocaust Museum on the day of the burial of Yitzhak Rabin

Now you know the worst
we humans have to know
about ourselves, and I am sorry,

for I know that you will be afraid.
To those of our bodies given
without pity to be burned, I know

there is no answer
but loving one another,
even our enemies, and this is hard.

But remember:
when a man of war becomes a man of peace,
he gives a light, divine

though it is also human.
When a man of peace is killed
by a man of war, he gives a light.

You do not have to walk in darkness.
If you will have the courage for love,
you may walk in light.  It will be

the light of those who have suffered
for peace.  It will be
your light.
 

~ Wendell Berry ~ (A Timbered Choir)

Do mo ghariníonacha a thug cuairt ar Mhúsaem an Uileloiscthe lá adhlactha Yitzhak Rabin

Tá’s agaibh anois an chuid is measa
a chaithimidne daoine a fhoghlaim
fúinn féin, agus tá an-bhrón orm,

Mar tá’s agam go mbeidh eagla oraibh.
Dóibh siúd dár gcolainneacha a cuireadh
á ndó gan trócaire, tuigim

Nach bhfuil freagra ar bith
ach grá a thabhairt dá chéile,
ár naimhde fiú, agus is deacair san.

Ach cuimhnigh:
nuair a dhéantar síochánaí den fhear cogaidh,
éalaíonn solas uaidh atá diaga

Agus daonna ar a shon san.
Nuair a leagann fear cogaidh
an síochánaí, éalaíonn solas uaidh

Ní gá dhuit conair an dorchadais a shiúl.
Má tá misneach an ghrá agat
beidh do chonair solasmhar. Solas

Na ndaoine a d’fhulaing
ar son na síochána. Do sholas-sa
a bheidh ann.

Wendell Berry: Níl aon dul siar ann

Íomhá Ron Rosenstock

NÍL AON DUL SIAR ANN

Níl aon dul siar ann, níl níl.
Is lú ná riamh anois
an fhéidearthacht sin a bhí ionat.
Is mó ná riamh anois
na beathaí agus na básanna sin
a bhain leat atá ionat.
Cineál uaighe anois thú
atá líonta le go leor a bhain
is nach mbaineann níos mó le ham, a stór,
an uair úd, anois is choíche.
Mar sin crann de shaghas éigin is ea thú anois
i do sheasamh os cionn uaighe.
Anois níos mó ná riamh féadann tú
bheith fial le gach lá
dá dtagann, óg, dul as
go deo, is fós bheith ann
neamh-aosta san aigne.
Ó lá go lá is lú cúis atá agat
gan tú féin a thabhairt uait.
 

THERE IS NO GOING BACK

 
No, no, there is no going back.
Less and less you are
that possibility you were.
More and more you have become
those lives and deaths
that have belonged to you.
You have become a sort of grave
containing much that was
and is no more in time, beloved
then, now, and always.
And so you have become a sort of tree
standing over a grave.
Now more than ever you can be
generous toward each day
that comes, young, to disappear
forever, and yet remain
unaging in the mind.
Every day you have less reason
not to give yourself away.
 
~ Wendell Berry ~

The Wish to Be Generous -- Wendell Berry

 

Mian a bheith Fial

Caillfear gach a bhfónaim dó, na haoibhnis go léir,
an cholainn a d'adhain an cholainn seo, gairdín is gort,
na lilí ciúine ina seasamh sa choill,
na coillte, an cnoc, an chruinne go léir, loiscfear
an uile ní in urchóid an duine, nó éagfaidh
ina aois féin. Go dtuga an domhan dom
suan an dorchadais gan réaltaí, chun go gcuirfinn eolas
ar mo sholaisín féin a tógadh uaim isteach i síol
an túis is an deiridh, chun go sléachtfainn
roimh an mistéir, agus seasamh ar an domhan seo
mar chrann i ngort, ag imeacht gan deabhadh
gan danaid i dtreo a bhfuil le tarlú, mo bheatha,
m’ísliú sa bhféar go foighneach is le fonn.

The Wish to Be Generous

All that I serve will die, all my delights,
the flesh kindled from my flesh, garden and field,
the silent lilies standing in the woods,
the woods, the hill, the whole earth, all
will burn in man's evil, or dwindle
in its own age. Let the world bring on me
the sleep of darkness without stars, so I may know
my little light taken from me into the seed
of the beginning and the end, so I may bow
to mystery, and take my stand on the earth
like a tree in a field, passing without haste
or regret toward what will be, my life
a patient willing descent into the grass.

~ Wendell Berry ~

(The Collected Poems, 1957-1982)

Séimhe na Neach bhFiáin

Séimhe na Neach bhFiáin

Nuair a mhéadaíonn an t-éadóchas ionam
agus nuair a dhúisíonn an fhuaim is lú mé i lár na hoíche
agus eagla orm faoi mo shaol féin is faoi mo leanaí,
imím liom is luímse siar san áit a nglacann bardal na coille
a scíth agus nach álainn san uisce é, an áit ina gcothaíonn an chorr réisc mhór í féin.
Seo mé isteach i séimhe na neach bhfiáin
nach eire ar a mbeatha é an danaid a thuar. Seo mé
i láthair an uisce chiúin.
Agus braithim os mo chionn na réaltaí is iad caoch I rith an lae
ag feitheamh lena solas. Ar feadh scaithimhín glacaim scíth
i ngrásta an domhain, is mé saor.

The Peace of Wild Things


When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

~ Wendell Berry ~