Translations of 'Swansong of the sea' into Italian, Arabic, Hindi, and Spanish
Il canto di cigno del mare
di Santiago Villafania
(Traduzione di Mario Rigli)
Quella notte ho sentito il canto di cigno del mare
le erolalia (*) di amanti senza nome
che rubano paradiso ed eternità
è stato il grido di un uccello pellegrino
che ha punteggiato il silenzio della notte
ma i venti e le onde hanno sussurrato quiete
Ho aspettato il risveglio del giorno
ho sentito al di sotto il respiro della terra,
le palpitazioni della Via Lattea
poi Atlante ha mosso un dito
e rotazioni sono scaturite
e improvviso tremore
E il mare aveva le ali di uno tsunami!
La morte è giunta senza preavviso e ragione
a coloro che ascoltavano i salmi dell'oblio
e poi ho sentito il canto di cigno del mare
. . . e le grida di chi se ne è andato via.
(*) Erolalia è un termine coniato dal Dr. Robert Chartham nel suo libro la “La coppia sensuale” per definire l'insieme di gemiti, grida, suoni e sospiri che escono alla coppia durante il rapporto sessuale.
Swansong of the sea
By Santiago Villafania
(Published in the Manila Times / Sunday Magazine, 20 March 2011)
That night I heard the swansong of the sea
the erolalias of nameless lovers
stealing a heaven and eternity
there was a crysong of a pilgrim bird
that punctuated the silence of the night
but the winds and the waves whispered a hush
I waited for the waking of the day
feeling the breathing of the earth beneath
the palpitations of the Milky Way
then Atlas moved a finger and it came
the gyrations and the
sudden trembling
O the sea had wings of a tsunami!
death came without warning or a reason
to those who heard the psalms of oblivion
and then I heard the swansong of the sea
. . .and the crysongs of those who went away
أغنية البحر الوداعية
شعر سانتياغو فيلافانيا
ترجمة نزار سرطاوي
في تلك الليلة سمعت أغنيةَ البحر الوداعية
...أنّاتِ وغنجاتِ وصرخاتِ عشّاقٍ بلا أسماء
تسرق الفردوس والخلود
وشقّت سكون الليل
أغنية طائرٍ في طريقه إلى الحجّ لكن الرياح والأمواج همست بالسكون
انتظرتُ صحوة النهار
شعرتُ بأنفاس الأرض من تحتي
وخفقات درب اللبانة
ثم حرك أطلس أحد أصابعه وحيندئذٍ جاءت
حركات الدوران
وفجأةً رجفت الراجفة
آه، كانت للبحر أجنحةٌ تسونامية!
حضر الموت بلا نذير وبلا سبب
إلى أولئك الذين سمعوا مزامير النسيان
ثم سمعت أغنية البحر الوداعية
. . . والصرخات الأخيرة لأولئك الذين مضوا بعيداً
Translated by Nizar Sartawi
नदी का अंतिम गीत
सुना उस रात मैंने
नदी का अंतिम गीत
नाम रहित प्रेमियों की आहें
चुरातीं एक क्षण
जैसे अनंत काल तक|
एक मुसाफिर पक्षी का
शोक-नाद
विराम चिन्ह लगाता
रात की शांति में|
प्रतीक्षित था मैं
दिन के उठने के लिए
महसूस करता धरा की
धडकनें
और आकाश गंगा का स्पंदन|
एटलस की एक ऊँगली ने
शुरू किये कम्पन
और नदी में सुनामी के
पंख फड फडाने लगे|
मृत्यु आई निरर्थक
बिना चेतावनी के
उनकी ओर, जिन्होंने सुने
स्तोत्र
अचेतन में|
उस रात
मैंने सुना नदी का अंतिम गीत
जाने वालो का शोकनाद|
(translated into Hindi by Vijaya Kandpal)
Canto de cisne del mar
Traducción de Ute Margaret Saine
Aquella noche escuché el canto de cisne del mar
las erolalias de innumerables amantes
robándose un cielo y la eternidad
había el lamento de un ave peregrina
que sincopaba el silencio de la noche
mientras vientos y olas cuchicheaban silencio
Esperaba que el día se despertara
sintiendo el aliento de la tierra debajo
de las palpitations de la Vía Láctea
luego Atlante movió un dedo y de repente
sucedieron repentinas rotaciones y el
brusco tremor
O ¡el mar tenía alas de tsunami!
la muerte llegó sin advertencia ni razón
para aquéllos que escucharon el salmo del olvido
y entonces escuché el canto de cisne del mar
... y los lamentos de los que se fueron
This poem rests uneasily between memorial and epic (I exhort you to go to Villafania's piece, from which this is an excerpt.) As a poem standing at the beginning of a longer piece, it exudes history and tradition, and, in particular, the invocation of the muse which is, for Villafania, going to be one of both destruction and transcendence: a kind of Christian paradox of life through death, or perhaps one of those Virgilian prefigurations.
What really stuns about Villafania's piece, however, is just the lyricism, completely unashamed good-sounding words strung together on a line, the exacting choices he makes so that the hard p and growling g come after the vowely "crysong" to rescue it from sentimentality. This is a piece whose excellence comes from making the difficult look simple.
There is more to be said about Villafania's epic reach, the way in which his narrative can effortlessly encompass both Atlas and the "palpitations of the Milky Way" (look at how that palpitation reduces down our galaxy to a little throbbing thing, a kind of toy for the poem to play with, a counter, almost on a checkerboard.) The way, in particular, a kind of circumlocution, a kind of epithet, merges seamlessly into the language: "stealing a heaven and eternity."
The theme of death as listening, death as coming to those who have paid attention, is just one aspect of the paradoxes that simmer just under the melifluous prosody here; one of the sharper points to notice is the way in which only the speaker himself emerges unscathed, Ishmael-like to tell the story having heard the "psalms of oblivion."
(from the Rhubard is Susan Review, April 25, 2005)
di Santiago Villafania
(Traduzione di Mario Rigli)
Quella notte ho sentito il canto di cigno del mare
le erolalia (*) di amanti senza nome
che rubano paradiso ed eternità
è stato il grido di un uccello pellegrino
che ha punteggiato il silenzio della notte
ma i venti e le onde hanno sussurrato quiete
Ho aspettato il risveglio del giorno
ho sentito al di sotto il respiro della terra,
le palpitazioni della Via Lattea
poi Atlante ha mosso un dito
e rotazioni sono scaturite
e improvviso tremore
E il mare aveva le ali di uno tsunami!
La morte è giunta senza preavviso e ragione
a coloro che ascoltavano i salmi dell'oblio
e poi ho sentito il canto di cigno del mare
. . . e le grida di chi se ne è andato via.
(*) Erolalia è un termine coniato dal Dr. Robert Chartham nel suo libro la “La coppia sensuale” per definire l'insieme di gemiti, grida, suoni e sospiri che escono alla coppia durante il rapporto sessuale.
Swansong of the sea
By Santiago Villafania
(Published in the Manila Times / Sunday Magazine, 20 March 2011)
That night I heard the swansong of the sea
the erolalias of nameless lovers
stealing a heaven and eternity
there was a crysong of a pilgrim bird
that punctuated the silence of the night
but the winds and the waves whispered a hush
I waited for the waking of the day
feeling the breathing of the earth beneath
the palpitations of the Milky Way
then Atlas moved a finger and it came
the gyrations and the
sudden trembling
O the sea had wings of a tsunami!
death came without warning or a reason
to those who heard the psalms of oblivion
and then I heard the swansong of the sea
. . .and the crysongs of those who went away
أغنية البحر الوداعية
شعر سانتياغو فيلافانيا
ترجمة نزار سرطاوي
في تلك الليلة سمعت أغنيةَ البحر الوداعية
...أنّاتِ وغنجاتِ وصرخاتِ عشّاقٍ بلا أسماء
تسرق الفردوس والخلود
وشقّت سكون الليل
أغنية طائرٍ في طريقه إلى الحجّ لكن الرياح والأمواج همست بالسكون
انتظرتُ صحوة النهار
شعرتُ بأنفاس الأرض من تحتي
وخفقات درب اللبانة
ثم حرك أطلس أحد أصابعه وحيندئذٍ جاءت
حركات الدوران
وفجأةً رجفت الراجفة
آه، كانت للبحر أجنحةٌ تسونامية!
حضر الموت بلا نذير وبلا سبب
إلى أولئك الذين سمعوا مزامير النسيان
ثم سمعت أغنية البحر الوداعية
. . . والصرخات الأخيرة لأولئك الذين مضوا بعيداً
Translated by Nizar Sartawi
नदी का अंतिम गीत
सुना उस रात मैंने
नदी का अंतिम गीत
नाम रहित प्रेमियों की आहें
चुरातीं एक क्षण
जैसे अनंत काल तक|
एक मुसाफिर पक्षी का
शोक-नाद
विराम चिन्ह लगाता
रात की शांति में|
प्रतीक्षित था मैं
दिन के उठने के लिए
महसूस करता धरा की
धडकनें
और आकाश गंगा का स्पंदन|
एटलस की एक ऊँगली ने
शुरू किये कम्पन
और नदी में सुनामी के
पंख फड फडाने लगे|
मृत्यु आई निरर्थक
बिना चेतावनी के
उनकी ओर, जिन्होंने सुने
स्तोत्र
अचेतन में|
उस रात
मैंने सुना नदी का अंतिम गीत
जाने वालो का शोकनाद|
(translated into Hindi by Vijaya Kandpal)
Canto de cisne del mar
Traducción de Ute Margaret Saine
Aquella noche escuché el canto de cisne del mar
las erolalias de innumerables amantes
robándose un cielo y la eternidad
había el lamento de un ave peregrina
que sincopaba el silencio de la noche
mientras vientos y olas cuchicheaban silencio
Esperaba que el día se despertara
sintiendo el aliento de la tierra debajo
de las palpitations de la Vía Láctea
luego Atlante movió un dedo y de repente
sucedieron repentinas rotaciones y el
brusco tremor
O ¡el mar tenía alas de tsunami!
la muerte llegó sin advertencia ni razón
para aquéllos que escucharon el salmo del olvido
y entonces escuché el canto de cisne del mar
... y los lamentos de los que se fueron
This poem rests uneasily between memorial and epic (I exhort you to go to Villafania's piece, from which this is an excerpt.) As a poem standing at the beginning of a longer piece, it exudes history and tradition, and, in particular, the invocation of the muse which is, for Villafania, going to be one of both destruction and transcendence: a kind of Christian paradox of life through death, or perhaps one of those Virgilian prefigurations.
What really stuns about Villafania's piece, however, is just the lyricism, completely unashamed good-sounding words strung together on a line, the exacting choices he makes so that the hard p and growling g come after the vowely "crysong" to rescue it from sentimentality. This is a piece whose excellence comes from making the difficult look simple.
There is more to be said about Villafania's epic reach, the way in which his narrative can effortlessly encompass both Atlas and the "palpitations of the Milky Way" (look at how that palpitation reduces down our galaxy to a little throbbing thing, a kind of toy for the poem to play with, a counter, almost on a checkerboard.) The way, in particular, a kind of circumlocution, a kind of epithet, merges seamlessly into the language: "stealing a heaven and eternity."
The theme of death as listening, death as coming to those who have paid attention, is just one aspect of the paradoxes that simmer just under the melifluous prosody here; one of the sharper points to notice is the way in which only the speaker himself emerges unscathed, Ishmael-like to tell the story having heard the "psalms of oblivion."
(from the Rhubard is Susan Review, April 25, 2005)
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