NaPoWriMo day 16 and time for some silliness - a fake ‘translation’ of a poem written in an unfamiliar language… given
my Viking tendencies, I’ve gone for the Icelandic-language Skagafjörður
by Gerður Kristný. Here's the original (published in 2007 by Mál og menning, Reykjavik and found in the collection Höggstaður):
Ég reyni að vera
alúðleg við börnin
svo þau hirði um leiðið mitt
þegar þar að kemur
mylji köku ofan í grasið
á afmælinu mínu
og fari með ljóðið um
fingruðu kýrnar
þá sjálf orðin gömul og grá
Samt á ég eftir að
þekkja þau aftur
á himneskri húsalyktinni
alltaf skulu þau ilma eins og Jesúbarnið
Now for my faux-translated version, with all due apologies to the original author…
Eggs rain down on Vera,
All addled with burning,
So they hurt without a leather mitt,
They go over there in the corner,
Thousands cooked in the oven, it’s greasy,
An unappealing menu,
This fare I’m loathing, I am,
Fingering the corner,
That shall forthwith go mouldy and grey.
Something with egg after all,
Thicker though after
A heinous creep has licked the tin.
All tough-skulled, though ill from one egg, yes you’re barmy.
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