Bewketu Seyoum
አáˆá‹ˆáŒ£áˆ ተራራ
ደመናን áˆá‹³á‰¥áˆµ
ቀስተ ደመናá‹áŠ•á£ ሽቅብ áˆá‰€áˆˆá‰¥áˆµ
አáˆá‹‹áˆµáˆ እኔ
ካ’ቡአተáŠáˆŒ ከንá
ከያዕቆብ መሰላáˆ
እኔ መá‹áŒ£á‰µ ሳስብ
ሰማዩ á‹á‰… á‹áˆ‹áˆá¡á¡
I won’t climb a mountain
to touch the clouds,
I won’t lift the frown
of a rainbow into a smile,
I won’t borrow
Tekle Haymanot’s wings
or Jacob’s ladder —
when I want to climb,
the sky will come down to me!
ተበዳዠመናáስት
ታááŠá‹ የኖሩ
ወደ አáˆáŠá‰µ á‹á‹á‹µ በድንገት ሲጠሩ
ያለጠባቂ ዘብ ተከáቶ ሳሠበሩ
የወጡ አá‹áˆ˜áˆµáˆ‹á‰¸á‹ ቅጽሩን ካáˆáˆ°á‰ ሩ
If tortured spirits
who have lived in chains
are suddenly called to freedom,
the door of their cell thrown open
and the guards sent home,
they will not feel truly free
unless they break through the wall.
ለሱ
ሰዠብቻ አá‹á‹°áˆˆá‰½áˆ
ጠáˆáˆ ናት ባካáˆ
መሬት ናት በáŠáሷ
ዕድሜ áˆáŠ©áŠ• ቢሮጥ
አያመáˆáŒ¥áˆ ከሷá¡á¡
For him
she is not just a woman:
she holds the stars in her body,
the earth in her soul.
Even if he spends his life running away,
he will not get far.
እáˆá ከሲታዎች ቀጥáŠá‹ የሞገጉ
“ስጋችን የት ሄደ?†ብለዠሲáˆáˆáŒ‰
በየሽንተረሩ በየጥጋጥጉ
አስሰዠአስሰዠበáˆá‹µáˆ በሰማá‹
አገኙት ቦáˆáŒ ሆኖ ባንድ ሰዠገላ ላá‹á¡á¡
A multitude of thin people, all skin,
call out like rag and bone men,
“Where’s our fat?” They rummage
every mountain, stone and huddle-huddle,
search in the soil, search in the sky.
At last they find it, piled up on one man’s belly!
ያንዲት ቅንጣት ቅጠሠመá‹á‹°á‰… እንደሚያጎድለአአá‹á‰ƒáˆˆáˆá£
ኮሽታ በሰማሠቀጥáˆá£
á‹á‹áŠ–ቼን በመስኮቴ ማዶ እወረá‹áˆ«áˆˆáˆá£
በጉዋሮዬ ያሉትን á‹›áŽá‰½ ለማየት á¡á¡
እáŠáˆ† á‹›áŽá‰½ በáŠá‰ ሩበትá£
የባንዲራ áˆáˆ¶áˆ¶á‹Žá‰½ በቀሉበትá¡á¡
ሰዎች የተáˆáŒ¥áˆ®áŠ• ጎጆ መáŠáŒ ሩá£
ከተሞቻቸá‹áŠ•áˆ ሠሩá¡á¡
እኔሠá£á‹¨áˆ½áˆ˜áˆ‹á‹ ማህሌትᤠህያá‹áŠá‰±áŠ• ሲያጣ እያየáˆá¤
በሙት áˆá‹µáˆ ላዠቆáˆá‹«áˆˆáˆá¤
ባሸዋ ብራና ላዠየሙሾ áŒáŒ¥áˆ እጽá‹áˆˆáˆá¡á¡
The fall of every leaf diminishes me,
so when I hear a rustle
I send my eyes out of the window
to look at the trees in the yard.
Alas! where there were woods,
I see flag-poles standing.
Men have swept nature’s nest away
to build their cities.
The melody of the nightingale
has lost its immortality
and I am sitting on a dead land,
writing an elegy in the sand.
ማጨስ áŠáˆáŠáˆ áŠá‹!
ማáጨት áŠáˆáŠáˆ áŠá‹!
መሽናት áŠáˆáŠáˆ áŠá‹!
áŒá‹µáŒá‹³á‹ በሙሉ ተሠáˆá‰¶ በáŠáˆáŠáˆ
የቱ áŠá‹ ትáŠáŠáˆ?
ትንሽ áŒá‹µáŒá‹³ እና ትንሽ ኀá‹áˆ ባá‹áˆˆáŠ
“መከáˆáŠ¨áˆ áŠáˆáŠáˆ áŠá‹!†የሚሠትእዛዠአለáŠá¡á¡
Smoking is prohibited!
Whistling is prohibited!
Peeing is prohibited!
The whole wall made up of prohibitions.
Which one is right??
Were I blessed with a piece of wall, a little piece of power,
my slogan would be:
Prohibitions are prohibited!
Bewketu Seyoum is a young Ethiopian poet and writer from Mankusa in Gojjam, north-west of Addis Ababa. His father is an English teacher and his mother comes from a family of Orthodox priests. He has published three collections of Amharic poetry, two novels and two CDs of short stories. In 2008, Bewketu was awarded the prize for Young Writer of the Year by the President of Ethiopia and in June 2012, he represented Ethiopia at the Poetry Parnassus festival in London.
Editor’s note: These poems are taken from ‘ኗሪ አáˆá‰£ ጎጆዎች’ (Nwari Alba Gojowoch/Unmanned Houses) and ‘ስብስብ áŒáŒ¥áˆžá‰½â€™ (Sebseb Get’emoch/Collected Poems). Translations are by the author with Chris Beckett and Alemu Tebeje Ayele, except for ‘Prohibited!’, which was translated by Bahrnegash Bellete and appeared in the Callaloo journal, Vol 33/1, Winter 2010, published by the John Hopkins University Press. Some of the poems previously appeared in Modern Poetry in Translation, The Big Green Issue, in October 2008.
