I didn’t even try translating the rhyme scheme yet. Maybe today. Incidentally, I would say that often these are more gentle detournements than translations-as-such, often I’ll go for a false-cognate or incorrect bilingual pun in favor of the strict translation, so that inevitably (except in some of the very simple ballads I’ve been playing with) the actual poet’s typical concerns are replaced to a certain extent by mine. But hey, all of these are online in real, actual translation, so you can look at them side by side if you’d like.
Sometimes when the bird calls
or a wind moves in the branches
or a dog barks on some distant farm
I must listen in silence for a long time—
then my soul flees back outside
to where, a thousand forgotten years ago,
the bird and the winding wind
were my mirror and my brothers.
My soul became a tree,
and an animal, and the skin of a cloud.
Returning transformed and unfamiliar,
it questions me. How shall I give my answer?
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