Translator’s Legacy
It is like a seed a grain of wheat
germ of an idea contained whole
within caverns of mind.
Ready to be planted
where selected seed
may grow on paper.
Genetic code complete,
prepared by creator
still untranslated
in unintelligible
Babel languages of man.
On chance occasion I may take a seed;
to record of its known information.
Transcribed my field of knowledge and thought
to language spoken of mainstream.
In my native tongue language is rich
while yours is not so full, I am not gifted
with range and scale, in foreign tongue.
Omitted is that which is lost in translation.
Not all sign is capable of being translated
or has an equivalent in another tongue.
Light is dim in this region
where I seldom dwell.
I am less familiar with its landscape.
Rigid dictates of cultural minds
are not always in tune.
Receptive restraint has not added
to visionary understanding.
Sometimes lessens that
which we bequeath.
We cannot all be trained
on the same course
some talents, careers,
interests, lie in other fields.
Acute foresight originates
in indulged mystical visions.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Dedicated to Myron, who lent the pen, of this poem’s writing. At work between jobs.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
Poets Lost In Translation
several differing translations
of some masterpiece poems
written by immortal poets
timeless especially esteemed
written in foreign languages
stresses how much poetry
suffers lost in translation
it is the hardest literary
medium to translate due
to the multiple meanings
of some words choice chosen
in the original mother language
the wonderful poetic effects
linking such words achieves
resonates in receptive souls
Is a good translation only
achieved when the translator
is a poet with a mother tongue
knowledge of both languages
in use vibrating admiration?
Is an intimate knowledge
a unique empathic sensitivity
for chosen poet in translation
a prime necessity in translating
feelings emotions ideals writ?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Like a seed
It’s impossible to force
A good piece of writing
It can only come from inspiration
It should flow from the mind
To the fingers and then
Through the keyboard
To the screen
A good piece of writing
Will come of it’s own volition
Without urging, yet with compulsion.
A certain musical phrase you’ve read
A lyrical play of words
That sticks in your mind
Can be the impetus for the lifting
Of the flood gates of inspiration
And once opened, has a compulsive
Addiction, that can be indulged freely
And yet will not be denied
Write down every sentence
or fragment thereof, any phrase
That catches your fancy
and feels good on the tongue
A good piece of writing
Has a sensual quality
That one can almost taste
As it’s written, and can be shared
Wantonly with readers
who choose to indulge
A good piece of writing
is a seed that is planted
In one’s mind, and from which
The words effortlessly grow
It can never be forced
or be pushed to the fore
It will grow from that seed
And will blossom before your eyes
It can grow freely, unfettered
From the most minute idea
But good writing, like a seed
Can never be forced to grow
poem by David Whalen
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When An Evening Meal Is Ready
field worker lives with so little today
faith plants a portion of seed each day
who will help water who will weed?
who will guard help grow this seed?
who will help grow this crop wheat?
who will help gather in hot sun heat?
finally when evening meal is laid out neat
who will receive invitation in fellowship eat?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Language of Translation
What could be a better language than the language of translation
A white curtain on which
All our handiwork stands apart like dirt
All crimes are perpetrated in mother tongues
Which always contain a discourse on innocence
There are times
When translation is the only place that has a remnant of sorts
The sound of tyranny in the native tongue
Is killing sympathy!
(Translated from Hindi by Bharatbhooshan Tiwari)
poem by Asad Zaidi
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The Lord's Harvest of Plenty
What a truly awesome thought indeed,
That throughout your day you live among seed.
Not the seeds that one would find in the ground,
These are not seen, but in the heart they are found.
These seeds are planted by the children of God,
As they simply follow the path The Savior has trod.
Your life as a Christian is not merely good deeds,
As your faithful witness could plant one of these seeds.
Or your life may be busy with a seed you don't know,
And your faithful witness is helping that little seed grow.
Planting and watering, as a Christian, is all we afford,
While all of the growth of that seed comes from the Lord.
After a little growth it is no longer a seed,
But a new vibrant Christian prepared for a deed.
The deed that has been prepared, I'm sure that you know,
Is to plant some new seed and to help water and help grow.
Once they have grown, they are cut with God's sickle of love,
And taken by The Lord to their Father's Home up above.
Whether the numbers are few or they are many,
You can be part of The Lord's Harvest of Plenty.
(Copyright © 08/2002)
Classical Tamil World Conference (Semmozhi Tamizh Ulaga Manadu)
Through you, I came, Mother;
Lucky was my birth in Bharat, my Motherland;
I was nurtured and grew up by mother’s milk;
I drew strength from my mother’s love.
I knew the world through my mother-tongue;
I learnt most things by mother-tongue;
Thanks to my dear earthly mother;
Thanks to my Mother, Tamil!
The place where I was born was Tamilnadu;
Tamil is my mother-tongue;
Tamil was my first breath;
My first cry was in Tamil.
My last breath shall be Tamil;
My life will be for Tamil;
I am proud of my mother-tongue, Tamil;
I am proud to be a Tamilian!
Tamil is a great language;
Tamil is a popular language;
Tamil is an ancient language;
Tamil is a classical language.
Tamil is a world language;
Tamil is a language of Gods!
Dedicated to ‘Classical Tamil World Conference,2010, Coimbatore’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 23-06-2010
poem by John Celes
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Language lost
My language lost
My identity lost.
Excuse me
I could not save my language.
I am forced to use foreign tongue
I am forced to shun all that are mine.
Excuse me
I could not save my language
I could not save my life
And I am not fine.
I want to talk in my mother tongue
I want to live in my home
I want to tell my Father to come and rescue.
My language lost
My identity lost.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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A Postural Pose
All these reported things
they told repeatedly to me.
Seated with twisting snakes
envy desire bitter jealousy.
How tall she stands
how proud she looks.
Of her beauty envious
her beauty sparkling told.
Of five foreign languages
spoken with flawless fluency.
Without error inflected
better than native speaker.
Five languages yet
within this soul I grieve.
Five languages frozen
bound cannot express.
Non-communication
of your innermost self.
Expression others may do
at ease with language one.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A good question is never answered. It is not a bolt to be tightened into place but a seed to be planted and to bear more seed toward the hope of greening the landscape of idea.
quote by John Anthony Ciardi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Seed And The Tree
Who can say for sure as to what came first: the seed or the tree?
If the seed came first where did it come from if not from the tree?
But then if the tree came first where did it come from except from a seed!
So then you'll have to re-ask again that question of the origin of the seed.
An endless circle with no logical conclusion soon appears
until one looks beyond the seed and the tree that it bears.
Although the seed comes from the tree and the tree from the seed
each one grows in the ground of mother Earth which both does feed.
The Earth is the womb of everything living and supports all we know
and then becomes the tomb back into which all forms one day must go.
The underlying essence of all nature is of consciousness-energy-intelligence
that includes and sustains all things despite our ever incessant belligerence.
Has anyone ever heard it said that God is in the form of the world
and so all within it carries a divine spark from which it has swirled.
God is the infinite eternal seed of all existence and can be experienced like this:
usually as an overwhelming love within us and as all power, knowledge and bliss.
So the seed and tree came from the Earth which itself has come from and exists in God
and to enquire where God has come from is useless if we haven't transcended this sod.
The limited mind of man has to merge into that unlimited universal mind of the Creator
only then can we know the original cause or final end of everything and of their Maker.
---------------------
Note:
This should remind one of the other similar paradox being that of 'the chicken and the egg'.
poem by George Krokos
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As God Gave Freely
As God gave freely unto me
gifts of compassion love patience time
so I also give freely unto you
in the fertile landscapes of harvest mind
have I not prepared fields broken ground
have I not sown in full measure love seed
will you now take ownership of these fields?
will you water fertilize tender growth shoots?
will you weed harvest all life love gift fields?
for 18 months more have I alone toiled prepared?
are not these fields without cost to you purchased?
did I not give sacred work all my time livelihood?
will you choose to help harvest these compassion seeds?
will you let peace love flower with purity in your minds?
will you turn swords into plough shears till peace fields?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Ah Goo Tongue
The queerest languages known to man,
Sanscrit, Hebrew, Hindoostan,
Are all translated and made as free
And comprehensive as A B C.
Yet the oldest language talked or sung,
The strange mysterious Ah Goo tongue,
The royal language of Babyland
No man living can understand.
Every soul in the world to-day
Was one time anchored in Babyland Bay,
And quarantined there for a year or more
Before he even could step on shore.
And everybody in Babyland Bay
Talks the Ah Goo tongue, so people say,
But once on land-why not a word
Do they understand of it when 'tis heard.
For the fairy rulers of Babyland
Who guard the kingdom on every hand,
Have willed that no one shall keep the key
Who crosses into the Grown-up Sea.
So the sweet court language has never been made
A common parlance of strife or trade,
But is kept in the kingdom where natives come
Versed in the language of Babydom.
They are all of them royal and that is how
The Grown-up people all kneel and bow,
When they hear that language talked or sung-
The strange mysterious Ah Goo tongue.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Eagle Flight
range soar
across desolate
canyons
holy places
where Native
Americans
built pueblo
adobe houses
care houses
upon spiritual
sun paths...
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
See also complete mosaic concept in the poem ‘Eagle Spirit’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Driven
To sift the dross so patiently
to sluice for the hard-won gold
those little flakes of wonder
that for no price are sold.
They are no gift that man may give
by no mortal may be owned
a life of selfless sacrifice, dedicated live
so the genetic seed is shown.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Not a barrier- the language
Music has no language,
I can enjoy your tongue.
Glances have no language,
I can understand their intentions.
Touches have no language,
I can feel their meanings.
Not in same tongue though we are
No less do we communicate.
20.01.99, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Love In Star Burst Breathes
with universal wonder
sail solar winds seed
love in star burst breathes
arching out spanning across
interstellar womb light space
dancing web cosmic stories
with universal wonder
embrace creation light seed
love into all life at light
speed too slow too slow seed
love into all life at thought
speed instant crosses solar systems
galaxy universe in an instant
in time crosses multi universes
in an instant of time love seeds
sent reach all receptive hearts
instantly love has no time to waste
sing bliss into multiple worlds
of life loving universal wonder
God is love love is transpermia life
love is life intergalactic thunder
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Zed
I was caught in your trap and was led away in chains,
But i am like someone planted in a fertile field of joy!
And like the seed of the law that grows with peace.
We are divided because of language,
So i will try very hard to learn your language so that we can be one;
Because these chains are too heavy on my neck!
But my sweet name that you need to know is called Zed.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Nails At The Crucifixion Hammered Into Jesus' Heel
God pronounced relentless battle between Satan
and the woman's seed between your seed her seed Genesis 3: 15.
in life battle Satan would 'bruise him on the heel.'
nails at the crucifixion hammered into Jesus' heel
Satan bruises his heel
God so ordered it
the salvation of man
could only be brought
by the death of Christ
even the spiritual seed
of our blessed Lord
are often heel bruised
we suffer persecution
temptation from Satan
the promised seed suffers but no destructive blow
'When the fullness of the time came, God sent
forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the Law' Galatians 4: 4.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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oh yes, Mr. Shaun, the Bible was not written in English
The Gospel of Christ and, in general,
the Holy Bible are written with the inspiration of God.
The Prophets and the Apostles
have recorded in written form
a portion of the oral teaching of the Old Testament
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
These are the original languages of the Holy Bible from' which all the translations have been derived. God's inspiration is confined to the original languages and utterances, not the many translations. There are 1,300 languages and dialects into which the Holy Bible, in its entirety or in portions, has been
translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated.translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated.
This does not mean that the translations do not convey the meaning of the Bible for spiritual uprightness of the readers in their own language. On the contrary the Bible should be spread and preached to 'all nations'. The missionaries in foreign lands learn the language or the dialect of. the new area into which they bring the Bible and other religious teachings. For example, the missionaries from Constantinople, Saints Cyril and Methodios, sent to Christianize the Slavic peoples in the 9th century, first translated the Bible and the ritual books into the language of the people.
yes, Mr. Shaun, my friend the Bible was not written in English.IT was written in HEBREW, ARAMAIC, and GREEK....
But i like it written in English too, how i wish it were written in such a
language,
with a sense of class
and fashionable disguise,
for without it, how could i ever understand, God,
oh, my, God!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We As Part Of The World Interpret
we as part
of the world
interpret
things
of the world
according to
our own
understanding
media powers
that be
have their own
agenda
framework
of their mind
their bias
impacts
upon
our own
perception
understanding
these ideas
concepts
agendas
flavour
influence
our own
emotions
understanding
according
to our own
opinions
knowledge
personality
we all
interpret
personally
individually
within
collective
mind
of
our society
affirming
or rejecting
main stream
ideas
filtering
understanding
through
fragments
pieces
of knowledge
we know
this
is
self
explanatory
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
The original draft stream of consciousness version of this poem is ‘We As Part Of The World Interpret’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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