jueves, 12 de mayo de 2016

NUALA NÍ CHONCHÚIR [18.700]


Nuala Ní Chonchúir

Nuala Ní Chonchúir. Nacida el 14 de enero de 1970 en Dublín, Irlanda
Seudónimo Nuala O'Connor

Sitio web
www.nualanichonchuir.com

Bibliografía

Novela 

You (2010 as Nuala Ní Chonchúir), ISBN 978-1-84840-063-4
The Closet of Savage Mementos (2014 as Nuala Ní Chonchúir), ISBN 978-1-84840-336-9
Miss Emily (2015 as Nuala O'Connor), ISBN 978-0-14312-675-1

Colecciones de cuentos cortos 

The Wind Across the Grass (2004), ISBN 1-903631-46-7
To The World of Men, Welcome (2005), ISBN 1-903631-51-3
Nude (2009), ISBN 978-1-84471-642-5
Mother America (2012) ISBN 978-1-84840-159-4
Of Dublin and Other Fictions Chapbook (2013), ISBN 978-0-9898572-0-8

Colecciones de la poesía 

Molly's Daughter (From Divas:new Irish women's writing) (2003), ISBN 1-903631-40-8
Tattoo:Tatú (2007), ISBN 978-1-903631-60-7
Portrait of the Artist With a Red Car (2009), ISBN 978-1-906285-10-4
The Juno Charm (2011), ISBN 978-1-907056-64-2




Translator: Alexander Best   |   https://zocalopoets.com/page/4/



from: The Juno Charm (2011)


Enojo

La luna está magullada esta noche.
Moreteada y hinchada está – pero
fanfarronea sobre nosotros
y jala júbilo a la rasca.

Luna de sebo, luna electrizante,
ella carga el cielo, y
es un foco descarado por encima de los árboles sazonados de escarcha.

Y aquí abajo, donde añoran nuestros ojos,
nos arrastramos a la iglesia en la plaza, y
hacemos las paces uno al otro – en el canto.

(2011)




Anger

The moon is battered tonight, bruised and swollen,
but she swanks above us, bringing joy to the chill.

Tallow-moon, electric-moon, she shoulders the sky,
a brazen spotlight over trees salted with frost.

And down here, eyes aching, we creep to the church
on the square, make peace with each other in song.

from: The Juno Charm (2011)





The Japanese Madonna 

As Madonna of Akita
I was carved
by a Buddhist from
a weeping katsura.

I forsook kimono and zori
for an unpainted robe,
a European chin,
and an aristocrat’s gaze.

I dropped blood-tears,
my sweat stank of roses,
and I warned that fire
would fall from the sky.

In Ballinspittle
I was made of stone;
I just flexed my fingers
and rocked.






The Lunar Spread

On Half Moon Street
we eat Tunisian orange cake,
under a painting of a melon
that spills seeds like love.

Over Notre Dame
the moon is a plate,
tossed by a Greek waiter
from rue Hachette.

Clear of Galway’s rooftops
the full moon
– bald as a skull –
crowns the night.

When she is van Gogh yellow
and mooning above,
we close the shutters
to safely sleep.

(first published in Burning Bush)




Anger

The moon is battered tonight, bruised and swollen,
but she swanks above us, bringing joy to the chill.

Tallow-moon, electric-moon, she shoulders the sky,
a brazen spotlight over trees salted with frost.

And down here, eyes aching, we creep to the church
on the square, make peace with each other in song.

(first published in Southword and subsequently in The Juno Charm, Salmon, 2011)



From: Tattoo : Tatú


TATÚ

Is pailmseist mo chorp 
faoi do lámha, 
paipír ársa 
scrollaithe fút, 
ag tnúth le do rian. 
Glanaim mo chraiceann, 
sciúraim siar é 
go pár báiteach 
ionas go bpúchfaidh 
do lámh mar 
dhúch tatuála, 
ag líníocht thar 
línte dofheicthe 
gach fir eile. 

Níl faic ach tusa 
scrábáilte ar mo chorp.

From: Tattoo : Tatú
Publisher: Arlen House, Galway, 2006
ISBN: 9781903631607





TATTOO

My body is a palimpsest 
under your hands, 
a papyrus scroll 
unfurled beneath you, 
waiting for your mark. 
I clean my skin, 
scrape it back to 
a pale parchment, 
so that your touch 
can sink as deep 
as the tattooist’s ink, 
and leave its tracery 
over the erased lines 
of other men. 

You are all that’s 
written on my body.


Translation: 2007, Nuala Ní Chonchúir
From: Tattoo : Tatú
Publisher: Arlen House, Galway, 2007, 9781903631607




GNÉAS

Déagóir, a chliabh 
le mo dhroim 
é croctha orm 

Tá a dheartháir 
ag léimnigh faoi 
scáth tí gloine 

Séideann a máthair 
ar fheadóg – tá sé 
in am dul abhaile 

Scaoileann sé mé 
deineann siad gáire, 
tá mé faoi chrith, soar 

˚ 

Bolgann tú 
an veilbhit fhillte 
atá ceartlár ionam 

Ag tochailt do theanga 
trí línte lachtacha 
go mbláthaím 

Is fáilte iad mo 
dhroim lúbtha agus 
mo mhéara a fhuineann 

Nuair a scaoileann tú mé 
deineann muid gáire, is 
tá mé faoi chrith, saor

From: Tattoo : Tatú
Publisher: Arlen House, Galway, 2007
ISBN: 9781903631607





SEX

An older boy 
his front to my back 
hooked around me 

His brother nearby 
leaping in the shadow 
of a glasshouse 

Their mother blows 
long on a whistle 
the signal for home 

He unpins me 
both laugh in my face 
I wobble, free 

˚ 

You lap through 
the cleated velvet 
at my core 

Burrowing your tongue 
along milky lines 
and I blossom 

My arcing back 
and kneading fingers 
are your welcome 

When you unpin me 
we laugh together 
I wobble, free

 Translation: 2007, Nuala Ní Chonchúir
From: Tattoo : Tatú
Publisher: Arlen House, Galway, 2007, 9781903631607





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