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#2347- Tuesday, December 20, 2005 - Editor: Jerry Katz

 

 


 

 

This issue is dedicated to Allen Ginsburg and his poem, Howl which is celebrating 50 years since publication. Ginsburg, Jack Kerouac, and the other Beat writers, with radical honesty and freedom and specific pullings from Buddhist teachings, helped to open people's minds so they could eventually receive Buddhism's most nondual teachings as well as nondual teachings from all people and traditions.

 

The focus of this issue is Gabriel Rosenstock's translation of some of Ginsburg's beautifully striking haikus into a strangely ever-familiar Irish.

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

CELEBRATE 50 YEARS OF HOWL! DEMAND AN END TO CENSORSHIP

 

http://www.citylights.com/His/CLhowlcel.html

 

 


 

 

photo: Allen Ginsberg

 

Haiku by Allen Ginsberg

and Irish versions by Gabriel Rosenstock

 


“Talk stand shit

 

            eat sleep –”

 

                        flies walking on my nose

 

 

 

“Labhair seas cac

 

            ith codail – ”

 

                        cuileoga ag siúl ar mo shrón

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re not going to get your money back”

 

            Everybody laughing –

 

                        “Any questions?”

 

 

 

“Ní bhfaighidh sibh bhur gcuid airgid ar ais”

 

            Gach éinne ag gáirí –

 

                        “Ceist ar bith?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What do we mean by Craziness?”

 

            Dogs bark to each other

 

                        across the meadow at night

 

 

 

 

 

“Cad is brí le Gealtachas?”

 

            Gadhair ag tafann ar a chéile

 

                        thar an móinéar istoíche

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not a word! Not a word!

 

Flies do all my talking for me –

 

and the wind says something else

 

 

 

 

 

Oiread is focal! Deineann cuileoga

 

an chaint thar mo cheann –

 

rud eile le rá ag an ngaoth

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Buddha died and

 

left behind a

 

big emptiness

 

 

 

cailleadh an Búda

 

is d’fhág ina dhiaidh

 

folús fairsing

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

did you ever see yourself

 

a breathing skull

 

looking out the eyes?

 

 

 

 

 

An bhfacaís riamh thú féin

 

id bhlaosc análaithe

 

ag stánadh amach trí na súile?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Looking over my shoulder

 

my behind was covered

 

with cherry blossoms

 

 

 

ag féachaint thar mo ghualainn dom

 

bhí mo thóin clúdaithe

 

le bláthanna silíní

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


I didn’t know the names

 

of the flowers – now

 

my garden is gone

 

 

 

 

 

Ní raibh ainmneacha na mbláthanna

 

ar eolas agam – ní hann níos mó

 

dom ghairdínse

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A hardon in New York,

 

a boy

 

in San Francisco

 

 

 

Adharc orm i Nua-Eabhrac,

 

buachaill

 

i San Francisco

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another year

 

has past – the world

 

is no different

 

 

 

Bliain eile imithe

 

tá an domhan

 

mar an gcéanna

 

 

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