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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