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I failed again at doing this on Monday last week - part of the point was to give me something to look forward to after work, but the last few weeks have been so full on that I've either worked late or just collapsed in front of the TV on an evening. So, I'm giving Sundays a go instead; rather than something to look forward to on a Monday, it can be something to think about and sustain me (and hopefully others) as we move into the week.
This week's poem is in Ahtna, one of the indigenous languages of Alaska, with an English translation by the poet. Smelcer, born in 1963, is Ahtna's youngest fluent speaker, and describes himself as 'a living repository of our language.' The poem is collected in Poems from the Edge of Extinction, an anthology of poetry in endangered languages, published by John Murray Press and edited by Chris McCabe.
C'etesen
Dahwdezeldiin' koht'aene kenaege'.
ukesdezt'aet.
Yaane' koht'aene yaen',
nekenaege' nadahdelna.
Koht'aene kenaege' k'os nadestaan,
lukae c'ena ti'taan, Tez'aedzi Na'.
Sii 'e koht'aene k'e kenaes,
Sii ndahwdel'en,
dandiil'en
s'dayn'tnel'en.
The Poet
I am beginning to write in our language,
but it is difficult.
Only the elders speak our words,
and they are forgetting.
There are not many words anyhow.
They are scattered like clouds,
like Salmon in Stepping Creek
at Tonsina River.
I do not speak like an Ahtna elder,
but I hear the voice of a spirit,
hear it at a distance,
speaking quietly to me.
According to the mythology of the Ahtna people, their language was given to them by a raven.
This week's poem is in Ahtna, one of the indigenous languages of Alaska, with an English translation by the poet. Smelcer, born in 1963, is Ahtna's youngest fluent speaker, and describes himself as 'a living repository of our language.' The poem is collected in Poems from the Edge of Extinction, an anthology of poetry in endangered languages, published by John Murray Press and edited by Chris McCabe.
C'etesen
Dahwdezeldiin' koht'aene kenaege'.
ukesdezt'aet.
Yaane' koht'aene yaen',
nekenaege' nadahdelna.
Koht'aene kenaege' k'os nadestaan,
lukae c'ena ti'taan, Tez'aedzi Na'.
Sii 'e koht'aene k'e kenaes,
Sii ndahwdel'en,
dandiil'en
s'dayn'tnel'en.
The Poet
I am beginning to write in our language,
but it is difficult.
Only the elders speak our words,
and they are forgetting.
There are not many words anyhow.
They are scattered like clouds,
like Salmon in Stepping Creek
at Tonsina River.
I do not speak like an Ahtna elder,
but I hear the voice of a spirit,
hear it at a distance,
speaking quietly to me.
According to the mythology of the Ahtna people, their language was given to them by a raven.
