OUTSKIRTS OF THE MIND

Bilingual tanka, in Irish and English, in response to artwork by various hands. Mystic poems of love, longing and emptiness in 5-7-5-7-7 syllables.
A few of these tanka first appeared in Modern Literature (Chennai).
Gabriel Rosenstock is a bilingual poet, tankaist, novelist, haikuist, short story writer, playwright, essayist and translator.
About Gabriel Rosenstock

Gabriel Rosenstock is a bilingual poet, tankaist, haikuist, novelist, playwright, short storywriter, essayist and translator. He lives in Ireland.
Belov d Ciumhais na hAigne ann MIND chuid Eug ne Jansson OUTSKIRTS gan tanka MIND Ciumhais na
About Gabriel Rosenstock

Gabriel Rosenstock is a bilingual poet, tankaist, haikuist, novelist, playwright, short storywriter, essayist and translator. He lives in Ireland.
Belov d Ciumhais na hAigne ann MIND chuid Eug ne Jansson OUTSKIRTS gan tanka MIND Ciumhais na
OUTSKIRTS OF THE MIND
Ciumhais na hAigne
G A B R I E L  R O S E N S T O C K
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OUTSKIRTS OF THE MIND
Ciumhais na hAigne
Copyright: Irish-language and English-language tanka,  
Gabriel Rosenstock, 2021
Bilingual tanka, in Irish and English, in response to artwork by 
various hands. Mystic poems of love, longing and emptiness  
in 5-7-5-7-7 syllables.
A few of these tanka first appeared in Modern Literature (Chennai).
Gabriel Rosenstock is a bilingual poet, tankaist, 
novelist, haikuist, short story writer, playwright, 
essayist and translator.
Blog | Books | Website
Published in 2021 in association with:
Cross-Cultural Communications
239 Wynsum Avenue Merrick, NY 11566-4725/USA
Tel: 516/868-5635 Fax: 516/379-1901
Email: cccpoetry@aol.com
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5
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
(Artwork: Public Domain; Open Access 
Artworks, The Met; Euorpeana; Wikimedia 
Commons, Rawpixel; Fair Use)
Gabhann an t-údar buíochas leis an 
gComhairle Ealaíon a thug Sparánacht dó chun 
luí isteach ar an tanka Gaeilge.
The author gratefully acknowledges receipt 
of an Arts Council Bursary which has enabled 
him to continue with his experiments in Irish-
language tanka.
ARTISTS
Cover: Eugène Jansson 
Alfred Sisley
Åke Waldemar Larsson
Saloman Savery
De Scott Evans
Niklāvs Strunke
Nikolaos Gyzis
Theodore Robinson
Eugène Jansson
Josef Čapek
Ștefan  Luchian
Édouard Manet
Samuel Frederick Brocas
Ladislav Mednyánszky
Joseph H. Davies
Thomas Waterman Wood
Johann Benedikt Gahn
Bhawani Das
Cyprián Majerník
Felicián Moczik
6
7
Arnold Peter Weisz-Kubínčan
Ferdinand Katona 
Frans Snijders 
Dezider Czölder
Ľudovít  Čordák
Tomáš Andraškovič
Eduard Majsch
Ogata Kōrin
Henry Raeburn
Edward Hopper
Johannes Moreelse
Melchior d’Hondecoeter
George Inness
Tosa Mitsuoki
Honoré Daumier
Jindřich Štyrský
Edvard Munch
Jean Veber
Lazzarino Cominazzo
Henri Matisse
Fyodor Bronnikov
Paul Cézanne
Alfred Sisley
9
I
cad tá ina gceann
cá bhfuil a dtriall – a gcúrsa
is deacair a rá
 
daoine ag bogadh thart arís
 
a chuid – na suansiúlaithe
what are they thinking
what is their quest or their end
difficult to say
 
people on the move again
 
Belovèd – somnambulists
Åke Waldemar Larsson
11
II
radharc sráide, a chuid
pictiúr ab ea an domhan seo
lúcháir ar dhuine?
 
an cine daonna ag fulaingt?
 
ba chanbhás domsa é
street scenes, Belovèd –
the whole world was a painting
people’s little joys?
 
all of suffering mankind?
 
i saw it as a canvas
Salomon Saver y
13
III
coinnle agam mar threoir
go dtí ciumhais na haigne
coinnle an eolais
 
uch! terra incognita
 
ní raghadsa ann arís
candles lit the way
to the outskirts of my mind
candles of learning
 
’twas terra incognita
 
i’ll not venture there again
De Scott  Evans 
15
IV
mo cheist, a ansacht
conas freagra a bheith ann
agus gan aon cheist
 
nó conas ceist a bheith ann
 
mura bhfuil freagra ar fáil
Belovèd, i ask
how can there be an answer
when there’s no question
 
how can there be a question
 
if there’s no answer at all
Niklāvs Strunke
17
V
beidh sí leat de shíor
tabharfaidh tú abhaile í
ciumhais na haigne
 
cad a thugann ann mé, a stór
 
níl faic in aon chor ann dom
you will bring them back
you will bring them home again
outskirts of the mind
 
what brings me there, my Treasure
 
there is nothing there for me
(Roman, 1st-2nd cent.)
19
VI
an tusa a labhair
a d’iarr orm teacht gan mo cheann
táim tagtha, a chuid
 
ag do chosa atáimse
 
is mo chroí mosc-lán d’urnaí
a voice – was it Yours
saying leave your head behind
i come then headless
 
i throw myself at Your feet
 
this heart a mosque-ful of prayer
Nikolaos Gyzis
21
VII
níl éifeacht níos mó
ag aimhréidhe d’aon saghas orm
feicim trí ghréasáin
 
saoirse is ea grá, grá saoirse
 
is leor sin mar eagna
all entanglements
are nullified, Belovèd
webs betray themselves
 
freedom is love, love freedom
 
that is all we need to know
Anon. (Austra l ia)
23
VIII
an dtagann siad ort
nuair a dhéanann siad tochailt
d’fhonn teacht ar ór buí
 
imbhualadh astaróideach
 
ceithre bhilliún bliain ó shin!
they think they find You
when they burrow, my Treasure
and come up with gold
 
gold from asteroid impacts
 
just four billion years ago
Theodore Robinson
25
IX
lorgaíd comharthaí
sna spéartha agus iontais
draíocht is míorúiltí!
 
ní fheiceann siad, a chuisle
 
an ghrian bhuí ar ghob lachan
people look for signs
signs in the heavens – wonders
miracles, magic!
 
they fail to see, Belovèd
 
a duck’s bill splashed with sunlight
Ancient Eg yptian
27
X
níl gá agam le briocht
ar chiumhais na haigne anseo
is leor d’ainmse
 
á aithris agam de shíor
 
is mé d’ainmse, a stór
outskirts of the mind
i need no amulet here
Your name is enough
 
over and over again
 
Belovèd: i am Your name
Indonesia: 9th-10th cent.
29
XI
cuir as an tslí é
scuab an domhan go léir chun siúil
a Thiarna Ganesh
 
buailfidh mé léi san fholús
 
scuab dem’ radharc an domhan ar dtús
remove everything
sweep it all away, Ganesh
in the void we’ll meet
 
myself and my Belovèd
 
when the world is swept away
Eugène Jansson
31
XII
ciumhais na haigne . . .
ní théimse ann a thuilleadh
áit sceirdiúil, a stór
 
shlogadh cathair ghríobháin mé
 
ghlaoití orm ón gcontráth
outskirts of the mind . . .
i tend to avoid them now
bleak nights and bleak days
 
many a maze swallowed me
 
my name was called from the dusk
Josef  Čapek
33
XIII
titeann an bháisteach
ar pháláis is ar bhotháin
sluachampaí géibhinn
 
goirt nuair a lonróidh an barr
 
an abhainn a raghaidh thar a bruach
the rain is falling
on palaces and hovels
concentration camps
 
on fields that will glow with crops
 
rivers that will burst their banks
Stefan Luchian
35
XIV
cad is ainm di
an cailín ard í, n’fheadar
cá bhfuil teacht uirthi
 
an eol di cad tá inti?
 
an banaoire deireanach
what name does she have
and is she tall, i wonder
where will she be found
 
and does she know who she is –
 
the last shepherdess on earth
Édouard Manet
37
XV
chanas cheana é
an eol duit an t-amhrán úd
chanas é fadó
 
fear gan léann an fear a chum
 
is maith a thuig sé a chroí féin
do You know this song
i’ve sung it for You before
in a previous life
 
an unlettered composer
 
saw the depths of his own heart
Olmec 900-400 BC
39
XVI
na maisc seo, a chuid
is cuid díom féin iad go léir
cuid den seachmall
 
masc amháin is masc eile
 
is dráma masc gan chríoch é
these masks, Belovèd
all of them are part of me
of the illusion
 
one mask after another
 
one long masquerade, that’s all
Samuel  Frederick  Brocas 
41
XVII
im’ bhacach a bhíos
ar Dhroichead na Leathphingine
mé ag feitheamh leat
 
is bacach mé i gcónaí
 
bím ag feitheamh leat de shíor
i was a beggar
my haunt – the Ha’penny Bridge
i waited for You
 
i’m still a beggar You know
 
You know i still wait for You
Ladislav Mednyánszk y
43
XVIII
teithim ón imeall
is tugaim aghaidh ar an gcoill
chun anáil ’tharraingt
 
le bheith i measc na gcrann beo
 
nílimse in adharca leo
i flee the outskirts
and take myself to the woods
to breathe, Belovèd
 
to be among living trees
 
beings with whom i’ve no quarrel
Head of Eg yptian Goddess
45
XIX
fanfaidh mé tamall
ar imeall na haigne –
ar feadh míle bliain –
 
táim dulta i dtaithí air
 
ní faic duitse é ach oiread
keep me waiting, do
in the outskirts of my mind
for a thousand years
 
i am used to it by now
 
in Your mind too it’s nothing
Joseph H. Davies
47
XX
ní chuirfinn spéis ann
an Great Falls Journal – áiféis!
gan dán amháin ann
 
nuacht bhréige, a chuid den tsaol
 
ní spéis leo an fhírinne
nothing of interest
the Great Falls Journal – rubbish!
not even a poem
 
fake news again, my Treasure
 
who in the world cares for truth
Par thian, 1st-2nd centur y
49
XXI
amach as sconna
ba dhóigh leat: laoithe duitse
cá bhfuil a bhfoinse
 
tusa bunús an duanmholta
 
síol na teanga ag fás ionat
as though from a spout
songs for You come flowing now
but where is their source
 
You are the font of praise-verse
 
in You all languages grow
Double-page from a Quran (Nor th Afr ica)
51
XXII
nuair ’labhair Gaibriéil
nuair a labhair sé leis an bhFáidh
is leis an Maighdean
 
an gcualaís a chuid sciathán
 
is a chuid teachtaireachtaí
when Gabriel spoke
when he addressed Mohammed
the Virgin Mary
 
did You hear his wings rustling
 
were You there for his message
India , 11th centur y
53
XXIII
lena thrasnú é
an t-áth a chuireadar díobh
na tirthankaraí fadó
 
tá tusa ar an taobh thall
 
im’ theannta is mé ’dul sall
it’s there for crossing
the ford they put behind them
those tirthankaras of old
 
You are on the other side
 
You are with me as i cross
Thomas Waterman Wood
55
XXIV
seansaighdiúirí, féach
caithfidh siad cúirtéis ’dhéanamh
is tubaiste é
 
in áit bheith dílis duitse
 
leanann déithe an chogaidh
old veterans, look
they just can’t stop saluting
what a tragedy
 
it’s to You they should be loyal
 
not to vicious gods of war
Roman, 1st - 2nd cent.
57
XXV
snoíodh as marmar thú
an buaine cloch ná briathar
mairfidh tú go brách
 
snoite as siollaí ataoi
 
amach as cairéal an chroí
do words outlive stones
they have carved You in marble
to live forever
 
i carve You in syllables
 
from the quarry of the heart
Cycladic , 2800 -2700 BC
59
XXVI
ní chloiseann éinne
an ceol seo a sheinnim duit
ar chruit gan téada
 
nótaí nár chualathas riamh
 
an taobh seo den fhirmimint
only You can hear
the music that’s played for You
on a stringless harp
 
strange notes that were never heard
 
this side of the Milky Way
Johann Benedik t Gahn
61
XXVII
sheinn sí aisti féin
uirlis thar na bearta ar fad
conas sin, a stór
 
d’fhéadfaimis rúin na cruinne
 
a scaoileadh dá mba mhaith linn
it plays by itself
instrument extraordinaire
how does this happen
 
Belovèd, we can unlock
 
the secrets of the cosmos
Bhawani Das
63
XXVIII
ialtóg torthaí mé
thugas faoin ngrian a alpadh
taoise thar m’eolas
 
an eitleod faoin gclapsholas
 
nó an ndéanfá mé ’tharrtháil
i’m a mad fruit bat
trying to gobble up the sun
You’re beyond my reach
 
shall i fly into the dusk
 
or will You come to my aid
Cyprián Majerník
65
XXIX
an é sin mise
ridire fáin ar an ród
neach ait ón seanam
 
im’ cheap magaidh agam féin
 
cúis gháire ó Dhia chugainn
is this what i am
a knight-errant on the road
some kind of throwback
 
i am my own laughing stock
 
and the butt of my own jokes
Fel icián Moczik
67
XXX
bóthar iargúlta
dá mbeinnse im’ ropaire
‘stand and deliver!’
 
a déarfainn sa Sacs-Bhéarla
 
thabharfá dhom ciste do chroí
lonely stretch of road
if i were a highwayman
‘stand and deliver!’
 
i’d say in the English tongue
 
You’d give me Your heart of gold
Arnold Peter Weisz-Kubínčan
69
XXXI
duibhe anama
a mhair ar feadh míle bliain
de bhréagmhaidneachan 
 
chuala do ghuth, gan choinne:
 
scátha ina smionagar
dark night of the soul
it lasted a thousand years
too many false dawns
 
suddenly out of nowhere
 
a voice shattered the shadows
Ferdinand Katona
71
XXXII
nochtas gach rún dóibh
tá fhios ag na beitheanna
iad ag súil le puth
 
 a scaipfeadh mo chuid laoithe
 
éist go géar leo, a ansacht
i’ve told the birches
they know all my secrets now
they await a breeze
 
to scatter my songs for You
 
pay heed, Belovèd, listen
Frans Sni jders 
73
XXXIII
gach áit, a chuisle,
tá colainneacha briste
ár ndomhan leochaileach
 
claochlú is bás de shíor
 
an i mbrionglóid atáimid
everywhere i look
broken bodies, my Treasure
our world is brittle
 
all is flux and all is death
 
is it happening in a dream
Dezider  Czölder
75
XXXIV
imeall an chogaidh
ciumhais na bpáirceanna catha
ár seoladh, a stór
 
ár mbaile buan, is cosúil
 
ordú é ónár máistrí
the outskirts of war
red edges of battlefields
such is our address
 
it will be our home for life
 
as ordained by our masters
Ľudovít Čordák
77
XXXV
is mar sin a bhíonn
ó imeall go a chéile
ag siúl i gciorcail
 
ag lorg bhruach na haille
 
macalla mo ghutha féin
this is how it goes
from one edge to another
walking in circles
 
in search of precipices
 
the echo of my own voice
Tomáš Andraškovič
79
XXXVI
le blianta fada
phleanálamar an tsaoirse
cá bhfuil an saorfhear
 
shaor tú ó gach aon ní mé
 
sa tsamhlaíocht ’tá na slabhraí
for thousands of years
we have planned to free the world
show me one free man
 
You free me of everything
 
chains are imaginary
Eduard Majsch 
81
XXXVII
scuabtar chun siúil iad
gach focal dá scríobhaim, a chuid
isteach san fholús
 
ní choinníonn an fhoilmhe iad
 
ní choinnítear greim ar faic
every word i write
is swept away, Belovèd,
into emptiness
 
the great void does not keep them
 
for it holds on to nothing
Zolo Palug yay
83
XXXVIII
Giúdach Fáin gach neach
ar na bóithre fada seo
cuid as an tSiria
 
roinnt as an Afganastáin
 
is Aiféisisteáin i gcéin
long roads, Belovèd
everyone’s a Wandering Jew
some from Syria
 
others from Afghanistan
 
and distant Absurdistan
Ogata Kōrin
85
XXXIX
fanaim i mo thost
tosnaím ar chaint a dhéanamh
mo bhéal ar leathadh
 
labhraím im’ bhalbhán dom
 
tusa amháin atá ag éisteacht
i commence to speak
and am wordless as a stone
i open my mouth
 
speaking in utter silence
 
and You alone are listening
Henr y Raeburn
87
XL
aer úr an gheimhridh
ag scátáil – do do lorg
an aigne stuama
 
an aigne Ghiúd-Chríostaí
 
róstuama ar fad mo léir
in crisp winter air
in search of You while skating
the mind is sober
 
the Judaeo-Christian mind
 
a tad too sober, perhaps
Anon (1850)
89
XLI
bhíos ar dhuine acu
giollaí spraoi a théadh ar fán
an fhidil – mo léir!
 
lá amháin seinneadh fonn mall:
 
bhí sé in am socrú síos
i was one of them
the rambling boys of pleasure
i blame the fiddle
 
one day it played a slow air:
 
time for me to settle down
Edward Hopper
91
XLII
istoíche amárach
mura dtiocfaidh tú anocht
tá an caife fuar
 
tiocfaidh tú is beannód duit
 
is déarfad – cad déarfaidh mé . . .
if not tonight, then
tomorrow night, Belovèd
the coffee is cold
 
You will come . . . i’ll welcome You
 
and say – but what can i say . . .
Johannes Moreelse
93
XLIII
cén fáth ar gháir sé
fealsamh na Sean-Ghréige
b’eol dó ní nó dhó
 
Democritus, a ansacht
 
tháinig sé ar rud éigin
why was he laughing
that ancient philosopher
did he know something
 
Democritus, Belovèd
 
he worked out a thing or two
Melchior d 'Hondecoeter 
95
XLIV
teachtaire an lae
an coileach – marbh atá
cé ’fháilteoidh roimh léas
 
cuir cluas ort féin, a thaisce
 
táim réidh chun scairt a ligean
the herald of dawn –
the chanticleer – is stone dead
who will greet the day
 
listen for my announcement
 
my treasure, You’ll hear me crow
George Inness
97
XLV
is deacair teacht air,
baile Jónaí an Scrogaill
an ann dó n’fheadar
 
an stopfar meath na cruinne
 
’bhfuil athnuachan i ndán di
it is hard to find
Belovèd, the heron’s home
if it is still there
 
can we stop the world’s decay
 
can we make it new again
Tosa Mitsuoki
99
XLVI
crochfad de ghéaga iad
na tanzaku seo, a stór
an fada a mhairfidh
 
tá dlí ’na n-aghaidh á dhréachtú
 
ná crochtar tanka de chrainn!
i’ll hang them for You
these tanzaku, Belovèd
how long will they last
 
they are drafting a new law
 
tanka may not hang from trees!
Honoré Daumier
101
XLVII
ní thiocfaidh mé ort
i ngailearaithe an domhain
níl portráid ar fáil
 
 ná prionta i siopa ar bith
 
 ná fiú sceitse, a thaisce
i shall not find You
in galleries – anywhere –
no portrait exists
 
no fading print in a shop
 
not even a hurried sketch