Friday, February 2, 2018

Gymniad LVIII - Three-quarters of a Century (with translations: ptl, es, fr, eo, hindi)

Three-quarters of a
century, and I'm
not dead yet.
Ten more years?
Anyone want to bet?
No one knows,
but my skin still glows
in the rays
of the setting sun.




[portunhol surenho]

Três quartos de um
século y eu sou
ainda non morto.
Mais dez anos?
Alguém quer apostar?
Ninguém sabe,
mas minha pele ainda brisha
nos raios
do pór-do-sol.


[español]

Tres cuartas partes de un
siglo, y no estoy
muerto todavía.
Diez años más?
¿Alguien quiere apostar?
Nadie sabe,
pero mi piel todavía brilla
en los rayos
del sol poniente


[français]

Les trois quarts d'un
siècle, et je suis
pas encore mort.
Dix autres années?
Quelqu'un veut parier?
Personne ne sait,
mais ma peau brille toujours
dans les rayons
du soleil couchant.


[esperanto]

Tri kvaronoj de
jarcento, kaj mi
ne estas mortinta ankoraŭ.
Dek jarojn pli?
Ĉu iu volas veti?
Neniu scias,
Sed mia haŭto ankoraŭ brilas
en la radioj
de la subiranta suno.


[Hindi]

एक के तीन चौथाई
सदी, और मैं हूँ
अब तक मृत नहीं।
दस और साल?
कोई भी शर्त चाहते हैं?
कोई नहीं जानता,
लेकिन मेरी त्वचा अभी भी चमकती है
किरणों में
सेटिंग सूर्य की
We are building a new world on the ashes of the old.

That is the subject of my poem Escombros, originally written in February 2015, entered into this blog on 4 October 2016, and re-posted this morning. Before re-posting, I added translations in Portunhol, Spanish, and French. Just now, on the spur of the moment, I added a further translation: Esperanto.

How shall we do this? It seems to me that certain toxins must not cross the blood-brain barrier of this new world. These include:

patriarchy

capitalism

war

intolerance of diversity

hate


For these we shall substitute:

gender equality and the partnership model

humanistic socialism focused on the common good

peace (which is much more than the absence of war)

respect for all living creatures and the planet

love


What shall we call this new world?

Strangely, I almost have an answer, based on the dream I had last night. The name that I heard sounded like Iffy-quo. Certainly, the concept is "iffy," and fragile. But if, as I suspect, the "-quo" on the the end is actually the Chinese "guo," meaning "country," then some interesting possibilities emerge. At first I considered "yîfú guo," (I'm using a circumflex for a macron), which would mean "clothes country." But, since I'm a naturist, that's the opposite of what I would want my Edenic utopia to be like. So I considered "no-clothes country," which would be something like "méiyou yîfú guo." Indeed, in some remote and long-forgotten past that could have been the original form of the name, later shortened. But finally, I was more persuaded by yî fùguó (more properly yîge fùguó), which would mean "a rich country." For now, I'll just think of it as "Richland."

Indeed, such a place would be rich in the values of a new humanity.