gears that almost locked (NaPoWriMo Day 16)

ill word that by the dialog

onus grows in force then forgotten

is in word trouble


it called gears thereunder

cracked mind cracked wit

fan the moon

it lit in day


no witness of the sun

a hand for the mule

a hand for the grappling


witness of hope


cracked mind gears


shut my own

come  herein

locked locked locked

ill word

weird word locked



as in bed that night native

might is




meant in gladness


cracked meant in blood

locked gears    mine the hand

of the mule


an ill word that is silk scriven soft

by dialog of night gears in four dingy photos

in words too foolish that are locked in light still


Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo: “Today, I’d like you to write a “translation” of a poem in a language you don’t actually know. Go to the Poetry International Language List, pick a language, and then follow it to a poet and a poem. Generally the Poetry International website will present a poem in its original language on the left, and any translation on the right. Cut and paste the original into the text-editing program of your choice (and try not to peek too much at the translation). Now, use the sound and shape of the words and lines to guide you, without worrying too much about whether your translation makes sense.”

The language I chose was Frisian–from a portion of the Netherlands. The poet was Tsead Bruinja.  Here’s the original poem; the title link will take you to the real translation. (Sorry, the spacing keeps getting a little off.)


elk wurd dat ik by dy dellis
oan `e grûn en foar dyn fuotten
is in wurd tefolle

it kâlde gers derûnder
krekt meand krekt wiet
fan de moanne
it leit in dei

no wachtsje op de sinne
en hân foar de mûle
en hân foar de grap

wachtsje op hoe’t

krekt meand gers

sjocht my oan
kom oerein
laket laket laket

elk wurd
wier wurd laket

as in bêd dat noch net op
makke is

meand en glêd

krekt meand en bliid
laket it gers          mei de hân
op de mûle

en elk wurd dat ik skylk skynber sêft
by dy dellis op it nije gers en foar dyn djoere fuotten
is in wurd tefolle dat laket en laitsje sil


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