Greenland Now - Green Green Grass of Home Next?
OK, sorry, very bad title, but in any case, congratulations to Greenland for voting so overwhelmingly to transfer more powers from Copenhagen to Nuuk. 
They're now well on their way to independence and even have a timescale for it - 2030 - 300 years since they were incorporated into the Kingdom of Denmark.
Now, if Greenland, a nation of 57,000 people, speaking what many of our fellow-country men would probably call 'a silly language which nobody speaks', has the confidence to have more power, what the hell is stopping Wales?
Are Welsh Labour AMs so weak that they won't even come out fighting for the One Wales 'Yes' Vote - which will give Wales less power than Greenland? Heaven bless the Greenlanders that they don't have their own version of Welsh Labour MPs in Copenhagen begrudging and thwarting every move towards more power and self-respect.
Why doesn't Wales have a schedule for independence - lets say 2030 too? Although, after being patronising and smug towards Iceland, I don't see Gordon 'Brit Nat' Brown quite so smug now that it's obvious he, nor the UK, has any clothes. The present economic crisis in the West is the fall of our Berlin Wall. The old 'big' states; UK, Spain, Denmark can't defend us - why stay with them?
Greenland now, but keep an eye on the Faroe Islands, Flanders, the Basque Country (where Spain refused to allow them to hold a democratic free referendum on independence a few weeks ago) etc. The dominoes will fall and the tide of history is too strong for British nationalists like Brown.
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The only point to note is that they still want all the subsidy and prefrential trade they have from Denmark. So its not true independance is it.
The Bards of Wales
by János Arany
-----Edward király, angol király
-----fakó lován:
-----Hadd látom, úgymond, mennyit ér
-----A velszi tartomány.
Edward the king, the English king,
Bestrides his tawny steed,
"For I will see if Wales" said he,
"Accepts my rule indeed."
Van-e ott folyó és földje jó?
Legelőin fű kövér?
Használt-e a megöntözés:
A pártos honfivér?
"Are stream and mountain fair to see?
Are meadow grasses good?
Do corn-lands bear a crop more rare
Since wash'd with rebel's blood?"
S a nép, az istenadta nép,
Ha oly boldog-e rajt'
Mint akarom, s mint a barom,
Melyet igába hajt?
"And are the wretched people there,
Whose insolence I broke,
As happy as the oxen are
Beneath the driver's yoke?"
Felség! valóban koronád
Legszebb gyémántja Velsz:
Földet, folyót, legelni jót,
Hegy-völgyet benne lelsz.
"In truth this Wales, Sire, is a gem,
The fairest in thy crown:
The stream and field rich harvest yield,
And fair are dale and down."
S a nép, az istenadta nép
Oly boldog rajta, Sire!
Kunyhói mind hallgatva, mint
Megannyi puszta sir.
"And all the wretched people there
Are calm as man could crave;
Their hovels stand throughout the land
As silent as the grave."
Edward király, angol király
Léptet fakó lován:
Körötte csend amerre ment,
És néma tartomány.
Edward the king, the English king,
Bestrides his tawny steed;
A silence deep his subjects keep
And Wales is mute indeed.
Montgomery a vár neve,
Hol aznap este szállt;
Montgomery, a vár ura,
Vendégli a királyt.
The castle named Montgomery
Ends that day's journeying;
The castle's lord, Montgomery,
Must entertain the king.
Vadat és halat, s mi jó falat
Szem-szájnak ingere,
Sürgő csoport, száz szolga hord,
Hogy nézni is tereh;
Then game and fish and ev'ry dish
That lures the taste and sight
A hundred hurrying servants bear
To please the appetite.
S mind, amiket e szép sziget
Ételt-italt terem;
S mind, ami bor pezsegve forr
Túl messzi tengeren.
With all of worth the isle brings forth
In dainty drink and food,
And all the wines of foreign vines
Beyond the distant flood.
Ti urak, ti urak! hát senkisem
Koccint értem pohárt?
Ti urak, ti urak!... ti velsz ebek!
Ne éljen Eduárd?
"Ye lords, ye lords, will none consent
His glass with mine to ring?
What! Each one fails, ye dogs of Wales,
to toast the English king?"
Vadat és halat, s mi az ég alatt
Szem-szájnak kellemes,
Azt látok én: de ördög itt
Belül minden nemes.
"Though game and fish and ev'ry dish
That lures the taste and sight
Your hand supplies, your mood defies
My person with a sight.
Ti urak, ti urak, hitvány ebek!
Ne éljen Eduárd?
Hol van, ki zengje tetteim -
Elő egy velszi bárd!
"Ye rascal lords, ye dogs of Wales,
Will none for Edward cheer?
To serve my needs and chant my deeds
Then let a bard appear!"
Egymásra néz a sok vitéz,
A vendég velsz urak;
Orcáikon, mint félelem,
Sápadt el a harag.
The nobles gaze in fierce amaze,
Their cheeks grow deadly pale;
Not fear but rage their looks engage,
They blench but do not quail.
Szó bennszakad, hang fennakad,
Lehellet megszegik. -
Ajtó megől fehér galamb,
Ősz bárd emelkedik.
All voices cease in soundless peace,
All breathe in silent pain;
Then at the door a harper hoar
Comes in with grave disdain:
Itt van, király, ki tetteidet
Elzengi, mond az agg;
S fegyver csörög, haló hörög
Amint húrjába csap.
"Lo, here I stand, at thy command,
To chant thy deeds, O king!"
And weapons clash and hauberks crash
Responsive to his string.
"Fegyver csörög, haló hörög,
A nap vértóba száll,
Vérszagra gyűl az éji vad:
Te tetted ezt, király!
"Harsh weapons clash and hauberks crash,
And sunset sees us bleed,
The crow and wolf our dead engulf
This, Edward, is thy deed!
Levágva népünk ezrei,
Halomba, mint kereszt,
Hogy sirva tallóz aki él:
Király, te tetted ezt!"
"A thousand lie beneath the sky,
They rot beneath the sun,
And we who live shall not forgive
This deed thy hand hath done!"
Máglyára! el! igen kemény -
Parancsol Eduárd -
Ha! lágyabb ének kell nekünk;
S belép egy ifju bárd.
"Now let him perish! I must have"
(The monarch's voice is hard)
"Your softest songs, and not your wrongs!"
In steps a boyish bard:
"Ah! lágyan kél az esti szél
Milford-öböl felé;
Szüzek siralma, özvegyek
Panasza nyög belé.
"The breeze is soft at eve, that oft
From Milford Haven moans;
It whispers maidens' stifled cries,
It breathes of widows' groans."
Ne szülj rabot, te szűz! anya
Ne szoptass csecsemőt!..."
S int a király. S elérte még
A máglyára menőt.
"Ye maidens bear no captive babes!
Ye mothers rear them not!"
The fierce king nods. The lad is seiz'd
And hurried from the spot.
De vakmerőn s hivatlanúl
Előáll harmadik;
Kobzán a dal magára vall,
Ez ige hallatik:
Unbidden then, among the men,
There comes a dauntless third.
With speech of fire he tunes his lyre,
And bitter is his word:
"Elhullt csatában a derék -
No halld meg Eduárd:
Neved ki diccsel ejtené,
Nem él oly velszi bárd.
"Our bravest died to slake thy pride.
Proud Edward hear my lays!
No Welsh bards live who e'er will give
Thy name a song of praise."
Emléke sír a lanton még -
No halld meg Eduárd:
Átok fejedre minden dal,
Melyet zeng velszi bárd."
"Our harps with dead men's memories weep
Welsh bards to thee will sing
One changeless verse our blackest curse
To blast thy soul, O king!"
Meglátom én! - S parancsot ád
Király rettenetest:
Máglyára, ki ellenszegűl,
Minden velsz énekest!
"No more! Enough!" cries out the king.
In rage his orders break:
"Seek through these vales all bards of Wales
And burn them at the stake!"
Szolgái szét száguldanak,
Ország-szerin, tova.
Montgomeryben így esett
A híres lakoma. -
His man ride forth to south and north,
They ride to west and east.
Thus ends in grim Montgomery
The celebrated feast.
S Edward király, angol király
Vágtat fakó lován;
Körötte ég földszint az ég:
A velszi tartomány.
Edward the king, the English king
Spurs on his tawny steed;
Across the skies red flames arise
As if Wales burned indeed.
Ötszáz, bizony, dalolva ment
Lángsírba velszi bárd:
De egy se birta mondani
Hogy: éljen Eduárd. -
In martyrship, with song on lip,
Five hundred Welsh bards died;
Not one was mov'd to say he lov'd
The tyrant in his pride.
_________________________________________
Ha, ha! mi zúg?... mi éji dal
London utcáin ez?
Felköttetem a lord-majort,
Ha bosszant bármi nesz!
" 'Ods blood! What songs this night resound
Upon our London streets?
The mayor should feel my irate heel
If aught that sound repeats!"
Áll néma csend; légy szárnya bent,
Se künn, nem hallatik:
"Fejére szól, ki szót emel!
Király nem alhatik."
Each voice is hush'd; through silent lanes
To silent homes they creep.
"Now dies the hound that makes a sound;
The sick king cannot sleep."
Ha, ha! elő síp, dob, zene!
Harsogjon harsona:
Fülembe zúgja átkait
A velszi lakoma...
"Ha! Bring me fife and drum and horn,
And let the trumpet blare!
In ceaseless hum their curses come…
I see their dead eyes glare…"
De túl zenén, túl síp-dobon,
Riadó kürtön át:
Ötszáz énekli hangosan
A vértanúk dalát.
But high above all drum and fife
And all trumpets' shrill debate,
Five hundred martyr'd voices chant
Their hymn of deathless hate.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
translated by Watson Kirkconnell
published in:
The Magyar Muse
An Anthology of Hungarian Poetry
Edited and translated by Watson Kirkconnell, M.A.
Kanadai Magyar Újság Press
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