Outside History by eavan boland ... Mise Eire

I won't go back to it -

 

my nation displaced

into old dactyls,

oaths made

by the animal tallows

of the candle

 

land of the Gulf Stream,

the small farm,

the scalded memory,

the songs

that bandage up the history,

the words 

that make a rhythm of the crime

 

where time is time past

a palsy of regrets

no. i won't go back.

my roots are brutal:

 

i am the woman -

a sloven's mix

of silk at the wrists,

a sort of dove-strut

in the precincts of the garrison

 

who practices the quick frictions,

the rictus of delight

and gets cambric for it,

rice-colored silks

 

i am the woman

in the gansy-coat

on board the Mary Belle,

in the huddling cold,

 

holding her half-dead baby to her

as the wind shifts east

and north over the dirty

water of the wharf

 

mingling the immigrant

guttural with the vowels

of homesickness who neither

knows nor cares that

 

a new language

is a kind of scar

and heals after a while

into a passable imitation of what went before

 

 

정확한 번역을 쓰려면 공부를 더 해봐야 할 것 같습니다.

하지만 의미는 옛 고국이 싫어

그 고국의 핏자국이 싫어

베인 쓴 때들이 싫어

떠나고

새 땅을 밟지만

그 새 언어의 새 땅 역시

그 고유의 또다른 핏빛을 때 절인 삶들과 역사를 지니고 있고

단순히 이민이라는 것이 그 동일하지만 새로운 문화에 동화되는 것이란 얘기로 전 읽힙니다.