Permettez-moi de vous dire comment je vous vois.
Vos yeux sont le faisceau eau
Votre voix est violet
Vos lèvres sont le lilas, mmmm;
Votre sourire est saphir
et la touche, topaze
Votre coeur est la mer de corail,
Ou céruléen, ou je n'ai pas vu;
Votre âme et le organisme sont toutes les couleurs.
Nous vivons entre le ciel et l'océan,
Et vous êtes tous bleus émotion.

Let me tell you how I see you.
Your eyes are watery beams of light.
Your voice is purple.
Your lips are lilac, mmm.
Your smile is sapphire,
and your touch, topaz
Your heart is coral sea,
or cerulean, or I don't know what I've seen.
Your soul and body are all the colors.
We live between the sky and ocean,
and you are every blue emotion.

( Not far from what the online translators rendered... )

Any thoughts? joyeuse13? I fear I got a bit tangled between nouns and adjectives, and I gave up trying to parallel genders.

This time it's to Hawai'ian and back.

E wehewehe ana aupehea 'iko au 'oe.
K-o-u maka molehu
K-o-u lehelehe lilia.
K-o-u leo aloe, mmm.
K-o-u 'aka'aka 'ako'ako'a a k-o-u pa poni
K-o-u 'uhane uliuli, a aouli paha,
a kala 'ike maka ole 'ia paha
K-o-u mana'o a kino anenue polu.
Ke noho nei ma-kou mawaena papa lani a moana
a pu'uwai kela polu keia 'oe.

I'm explaining how I see you.
Your eyes are twilight.
Your lips are lilies.
Your voice is aloe, mmm.
Your laughter is coral.
Your welcoming embrace is royal purple.
Your spirit is deep sea, and the high sky maybe,
and maybe a color not seen by my eyes.
Your mind and body are a blue rainbow.
We all dwell between the firmament and open ocean,
and you are all the blues of the heart.



I found this a bit more limiting, and less illuminating, than Japanese. However, I particularly like the voice and laughter lines.
Aside from switching the order of lips and voice and moving the "mmm" to the voice to go with "aloe", the only real choice I had to make was whether to use ma-kou for we ("everyone") or ma-ua ("you and I only"). "We two" probably makes more sense, but "everyone" is closer to my original thought. The poem was sufficiently intimate that it didn't lose focus by making one statement on the human condition as opposed to issuing an invitation.

The idea here is to see how the choice of language influences the way thoughts are put together and pictures are constructed. My medium is a poem of very simple structure called "Every Blue", which I wrote and posted some time ago.

Let me tell you how I see you.
Your eyes are iris
Your voice is violet
Your lips are lilac, mmmm;
Your smile is cobalt and your touch, tungsten light
Your heart is coral sea,
Or cerulean, or a shade I haven't seen;
Your mind and body are the whole spectrum.
We live between the sky and ocean,
And you are every blue emotion.

( How I spent five hours translating my poem into a language I do not know. )

Anata no kyou me wa kon desu
Anata no onsei wa taisei desu
Anata no kuchibiru wa mizuiro desu, mmmm;
Anata no isshou wa kobaruto desu,
Anata no furi, fujiro, Anata no shokkan, shikon
Anata no kokoro tamashii wa sangokai desu,
Wa sorairo, wa fukashi iro;
Anata no zenshinzenrei wa renzoku supekutoru desu.
Ichi ten, ichibou senri omoi desu,
Anata aoi desu.

Literally:

Your penetrating eyes are navy blue
Your voice is blackish blue
Your lips are aqua, mmm.
Your smile/laugh is cobalt,
You touching me is light purple, and me being touched by you is a bluish purple.
Your heart and soul are ocean coral, sky-blue (cerulean), invisible color.
Your complete devotion (body and soul) is a continuous spectrum.
The sky and boundless ocean are feelings, and you are the blue colors.

( But that isn't a poem )

So here is the finished result (as previously posted):

Deep blue eyes searched mine,
and twilight sang to me.
Her kiss was like a waterfall,
her smile a burning beam.
The brush of her flowers left a deepening blush.
Her heart was coral, cool and sharp,
part sea and part sky,
and could not be seen by mortal eyes.
The works of her life flowed from dark blue to light.
From sea to sky, all emotions are water,
And she was every blue color.

She is dog and he is cat
He is air and she is fire
And he is consumed.

She is red and he sees blue
She is legs and he is wings
And she's under siege.

He is South and she is East
She's looking into the light
And he seeks the heat.

She is tin and he is zinc
They are church bells and trumpet
At penny fountains.

She's a voice in wilderness
He's an orchestra alone
Love is blind, not deaf.

She's the altar where he prays
He does not think she's a saint
Love may be the way.

Retranslated from Japanese:

Deep blue eyes searched mine,
and twilight sang to me.
Her kiss was like a waterfall,
her smile a burning beam.
The brush of her flowers left a deepening blush.
Her heart was coral, cool and sharp,
part sea and part sky,
and could not be seen by mortal eyes.
The works of her life flowed from dark blue to light.
From sea to sky, all emotions are water,
And she was every blue color.

( The poem: )

( Translated into Japanese: )

( Translated back to English: )

I welcome comments, especially from those of you who actually know Japanese (and who probably got some unintended laughs).

I wrote this on the card circulating around the office for the tech writer who is getting married.



Here’s to the end of the beginning;

Cheers to the beginning of the middle;

Years to go, years to grow,

And happiness in the end.

I got a challenge from telynor
To fill your eyes with buncombe
But my only rhymes are Pellinor,
As in King, or Belle Noir,
Which means nothing.

I was challenged by a harper
To write some balderdash.
Haberdash, bumper crash,
Warp the LARPer, and tarp her,
Which doesn't mean anything.

I was challenged by a Gwendolyn,
Or possibly a Gwenevere or something,
To write some bibble-burble
So I swing a pendulum
With some Odgen Nash bowling
And an Anne, while I'm doling;
This Means Something.
I mean, really.

But still it is.
I forget the steps.
I forget what it meant.
But I can remember if I try.

Sometimes I forget the moons I sought.
Ours is only one.
I knew four worlds of ice and stone
And wanted more.
I know people who have them.

Sometimes I forget I am loved,
But love hasn't forgotten me yet.

Sometimes I forget myself,
And the longer I wait,
The more difficult it is to remember.

Sometimes I forget the Moon is there,
But still it is
And everything beyond.

I see you.
It's been a long time, but
I still remember first love.
--the first one that counts, anyway;
No offense against Missy,
But we were six.

Anyway, this person at the grocery store might have been you,
As I'm sure others might have been me but weren't.
Takes me back.
Running through emotional doors,
In just a moment I get to today,
Take a deep breath and sigh happily.
I don't think I'm focusing only on the good times;
I'm just glad I was there.

My enemy doesn't look like me.
In the mirror I see his face.
He uses other people to get to me
And does it well.
Precise, ruthless, and relentless.
I can use good people against him,
But I feel a bit guilty
And don't do it often.

It surely felt good to see you today.
Hope you're doing well.

The best a man can desire
Is a night on Loch Lomond's shores
I have all the gifts of the kingdom
The love of the proudest horse
Every maiden's smile, the banner of the King
My soul is pure, my life austere
Far from the silks on Guinevere

When I grow up
I hope to be in
With the people at the round table
At the Hotel Algonquin

I've tried to see
Through Dottie's eyes
But I crossly drink my tea
For I have no clever replies

When I grow up
I want to be
Invited to the round table
At the Hotel Algonquin

I try not to
Give them straight lines
But when they deal Thanatopsis hands,
They're always quicker than I.

When I grow up
I want to dine
With the wits at the round table
In the Hotel Algonquine.

When Echo in her wat'ry mirror look'd
And spake words only in her hearing found,
The offers of advancement she forsook
Placed her comfort bare upon the ground

Yet she her love could follow and admire
Though he waited on his eyes' conceit
Without her spark of passion and desire
His image could not see a legacy

Within stone walls I could assume the power
Of raising glorious works to light the day
And when the wrath of time from West will low'r
I'll sorrow that my youth has gone away

For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings,
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.



The meme is to quote Shakespeare in your journal. I'll offer the challenge of quoting within a new piece written in the Bard's style.

I taught the river your name,
And it told the sea.
Now every fish knows of you,
And fossils in sandstone will speak
So the world will not forget.

You gave the wind your fragrance,
And it told me.
Now every cell listens for you,
And twitches of nerves will move
So the distance will not separate.

The stars sought out your eyes,
And they showed me.
Now every night feels like you,
And worlds afar will turn
So they may watch
Our meeting.

I heard an old man say today
Each new year goes faster
Because it's a smaller bit of the life you've lived--
Never wish for time to pass.

Life will entertain you
If you will give it the chance
You can't imagine the things what will happen
Or how the time will pass

There is a balm for all old wounds
Across the fence, green grass
Remembered paths and good friends' laughs
Never wish for time to pass.

I have a penny:
Leave it in a tray.
I have a nickel:
Denver, 1968.
I have a dime:
Loan it for refreshment.
I have a quarter:
Save it for retirement.

I have a dollar:
It'll go toward a waiter's tip.
I have a five:
That's a meal on a trip.
I have a ten:
It will buy some music.
I have a twenty:
If I need it, then I'll use it.

I have a thousand:
I will carefully invest.
But of all these, I
Think the dollar was spent best.

So I will call you up and see
If you would like to dine with me.

I'm carrying a lot of life with me.
The sum of experiences, thoughts and feelings,
Actions and reactions and interactions,
Pain and learning and imagination.
Life is made up of moments.
Time is light between them,
But in a moment time slows--
Plenty of room for a Broadway song
During the transformation.

At one point I'll remember something an old friend
Said or did, where he walked, what he took and brought back.
Another minute it's a place, no particular time,
All the highlights of times there.
A feeling is the moments you've felt it
And landmarks on the journey of the heart.
This is the life of the mind.

The body also remembers.
My feet have all those miles,
My hands, all their works.
Shoulders are made of all the weights carried,
The clawing sun, the touches, the warm touches.
In my throat are speeches and songs,
Highway dust and words spoken in anger.

A life is made up of moments
And mistakes; this is who I am.

I travelled far and woke in Spring
In a stark and glorious land under dry sun
The very rock was a fanfare of
    staccato highs and lows
But I knew the season and missed the bloom,
    the bloom, the bloom
Of azaleas.

Three months of the year there's no better place--
Cool mountains, hot springs, teeming seas
The people emerge from
    caves of wood and glass
But hiking, biking, and skiing miss the lake,
    the lake, the lake
Where I swam.

For many the reward in the winter of life
Is shore and sun and palms
The smiles never fade from
    clear water and horizon
The smell is savory but is not the leaves,
    the leaves, the leaves
Of Georgia.

South of the Cumberland
There's water in the air and wind in the trees
Every year I stand on the riverbank
And whisper names I love.