wuirds/words
efter louis-ferdinand céline, via the Scots
|
at the stert o it aa there wis feelin the wuird wis-na there wi aa when ye kittle an amoeba a bairn greits oorsels juist the wuird is uggsome ti ventur sic is ill-faurt |
in the beginning there was sensation the word was not there at all when you tickle an amoeba a baby cries only us the word is disgusting to attempt it is ill-advised |
Author’s note: “wuirds/words” is a more or less straightforward found poem, taken from an interview given before his death (1961) by Louis-Ferdinand Céline, the whole of which appeared in another translation several years after the event (1964) in The Paris Review. The poem was originally rendered from the French into Scots, which I’ve subsequently translated into English. The poem itself speaks of the difficulty (impossibility?) of translating the subjective immediacy of phenomena into the social institution of language.
Andrew McCallum is a Scottish poet and scallywag with a distant background in European philosophy.
qarrtsiluni 
Thank you for getting us off to a fine start, Andrew. The poem is even better in the Scots than I could imagine before hearing it. I was particularly interested learning its source, something I don’t believe was mentioned in your original submission, having edited for five years in the 90s a magazine based on found form and called Synaesthetic. I looked forward to part two of your installment. Alex
This is a treat Andrew.
Thank you, Anna. Hope you are flourishing and that Tom is doing a good job at Tyne and Esk.
I listened to the podcast along with reading the words….and the original Scottish itself almost conveys some of the meaning without an additional English translation. Fascinating to read and listen to. Thanks for sharing, Andrew.
-Nicole