Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Creativity Day 11: Google Translate Poem

So this is fun.
We'll start with this poem.

Put it into Swahili:


Nilipokuwa mdogo
wazazi wangu kukata scrub mwaloni
kujenga yangu uwanja wa michezo. na
katika mwaloni kwamba kata-chini scrub kulikuwa na mti mmoja
na kutelekezwa Magpie wa kiota ndani yake.
Wakati sisi inaonekana ndani ya tulikuta
njano mchezo kipande.
Siku baada ya siku
majira ya joto ni ya moto, na
mlima wildflowers blooming mapema mwaka huu
na nywele zangu kufaa haki ndani ya ponytail
kawaida kama mimi walionao katika mavazi ya maua
na Jumapili Sangria mchana.
Siku kama hii
Mimi kusikiliza miguu kidogo mvua, kufikiri kuwa
Mimi kama njia ya kufanya mawazo yangu ladha,
kwamba journal yangu ni
kila kitabu nimekuwa milele kusoma,
kwamba unapaswa kuamini
maneno yote sijui maana, (kwamba mvua
itakuwa safisha yao mbali anyway)
kwamba hawajui
kila mtu mwingine ni kwenda kucheza,
kwamba wakati mimi kutikiswa
nilijisikia kama kuwa na jino vunjwa
na kwamba katika shimo
(ulimi moja wangu walipenda kujisikia)
Nimeona si kweli laini burrow katika,
lakini mmoja mkali stung kama nyuki bumble.
Basi katika huo huo
Nami kulisha farasi kwa mkono wangu
na wakati mimi peel machungwa au kuni kuchoma
kukumbuka
kwamba mimi bado ni msichana
ambaye wears nguo za baridi
ambao mara zote hugs Goodnight snowman
na wale wanaokusikiliza

sauti ya mlango jikoni
        opensandshut
opensandshut
opensandshut
      peoplecomeandgo -
i ahadi ya kurudi

msichana wewe kupendwa.


And back into English:


When I was younger
My parents cut scrub oak
My build the playground. and
in that cut-down oak scrub was one tree
and abandoned Magpie's nest in it.
When we looked inside we found
yellow game piece.
Day after day
summer is hot, and
mountain wildflowers blooming early this year
and my hair in a ponytail right fit
Usually if I were them in flower dress
Sangria and Sunday afternoon.
Days like this
I hear little feet wet, thinking that
I like the way to make my mind the taste,
that is my journal
every book I have ever read,
that you should believe
I do not know all the words mean, (the rain
will wash them off anyway)
that do not know
everyone else is going to play,
that when I wave
I feel like having a tooth pulled
and that the hole
(my one tongue they would feel)
I have seen do not actually burrow in soft,
but one bright bumble bee stung like.
So in the meantime
I feed the horses in my hand
and when I peel an orange or wood burning
remember
that I am still a girl
who wears winter clothes
who always hugs goodnight snowman
and those who listen


voice of the kitchen door
opensandshut
opensandshut
opensandshut
peoplecomeandgo -
i promise to return



girl you loved.

No comments:

Post a Comment