Today was a hard writing day for me, so I decided to pick a poetry form and see if that would help guide my writing. I chose the Ae Freislighe or Irish quatrain.
The ae freislighe is a complex and intense form. Here are the guidelines: quatrain stanzas (4-line stanzas), 7 syllables per line, lines 1 and 3 rhyme together, but they rhyme as three syllables (xxa), lines 2 and 4 rhyme together as two syllables (xb), and the final line of the entire poem should be the same as the entire poem begins (the poetic term for this is dunadh).
Whew! I picked a good, hard form all right. Leave to the brilliant and resilient Irish to create this form.
As for news on the home front, everything is set with RIM having a bed for Trace. Now we wait and hope and pray that on Monday the insurance authorization will arrive.
She is improving everyday, but the function of her left leg (her previously good and strong leg) is still not very high. Her muscles are activating, but the weakness in her hip flexors prevent her from walking without difficulty.
But she is determined.
Even in her weakness.
She inspires me to push through difficulties and to carry on courageously.
She is the face of brave to me.
Bravery lives to clarify that less strong is not weaker— that strength seeks to satisfy and to protect the seeker
of truth, the one courageous person whose strength is beyond ordinary—contagious in every way. I respond—
the shy strength of fortitude does bolster and dignify. So I say with gratitude: Bravery lives to clarify.
Today’s challenge was to write a poem that reacts both to photography and to words in a language not your own. I had to begin with a photograph, and then find a poem in a language I didn’t know. My mission was to start translating the poem into English, with the idea that the poem was actually “about” my photograph.
I chose a poem in Irish (Gaelic) and used a photo I took at the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland. First is the poem in its original language, and following is my “translation”.
Faoi Chabáistí is Ríonacha By Celia de Fréine
In ionad bláthanna a bhronnadh ar a bhean agus é i mbun tochmhairc, d’fhrasaigh Risteard bronntanais ar a máthair. I dtosach tháinig na málaí plaisteacha, ansin na saic, iad lán le glasraí a d'fhás sé féin a is a athair. Leasaithe go nádúrtha. Uiscithe faoi scáth hoíche i rith an triomaigh. Turnapaí ar aon mhéid le do chloigeann. Prátaí Rí Éadbhard as ar deineadh na sceallóga ba shúmhaire. Cabáistí sách leathan le ceathrairíní a cheilt. Ní raibh bean Risteaird ag súil le ceathrairíní – iníon a leanbh sise, í tugtha go mór do fhrithbhualadh na glúine, ar nós a máthar.
Fair Chaps Beware
Over eons the base of the bastions blossomed, ageless and immune to time
like a resilient band of brothers. I searched those majestic rolling plains atop the pounding sea,
and under my gaze their angel hair frolicked in the wind. Let no man go adventuring,
unless he find the path; for high and wide the tumultuous treachery hidden below the churning sea.
Yes, pounding against and pounding beneath, the salacious sea sings her song. Come, she sings,
lay your head on my chest. No radiant beams shine more resiliently than I, she croons; from here,
I lovingly rise to greet the moon. So lest you frivolous and foolish be, go no more near the edge of the sea.