Featured Poem

Tongue

You own no coffin to drag across the snow,
just a dog shivering in the dark.

Mother-tongue you’re heavyhearted;
garlic blackens in the copper pan.

A low drone rises from the hearth.
Winds tangle throughter all confused.
Aeolus blows but Babel’s left alive.

Daughter-tongue: creak of the juniper.
Your shudder at birth’s a shard chipped off
a storm among the planets

and the clouds, the clouds blindly race
obliterating from the skies
all trace of lineage.


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About the translation:
» Read translator's notes
Poet:
Antonella Anedda
Translator:
Jamie McKendrick
Original language:
Sardinian
Issue:
Series 3 No. 4 - Between the Languages

Original poem

About the authors

Poet

Antonella Anedda

Antonella Anedda was born in Rome in 1958, of a Sardinian family. The languages she was brought up hearing, however, were, apa...

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Translator

Jamie McKendrick

Jamie McKendrick, born in Liverpool in 1955, has published five books of poems and a book of selected poems, Sky Nails. His mo...

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Tongue (Limba)

Non tenes baùle ‘e istrisinare in supr’e nie
Ma unu cane a trémula in s’iscuriù.

Limba-matre ses triste.
S’azu s’inniéddigat in sa sartàine.

Sa mùghit’anziat.
Sos ventos si coffundent.
Eolo survat et Babele s’isparghet.

Fiza-limba tràchitas a ghineperu.
Una tremita tua naschinde
est ch’astula de livrina in mes’a isteddos

et sas nues, sas nues a sa thurpas fughint
iscanzellande dae chelu onzi zenìas

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