This is poem selected for the 2017 Hopkins Festival Multilingual Translation Workshop. Participants are invited to prepare a version is whatever language (or languages) they fancy. Our visitors usually an excitging mix of global languages (including French, German and Irish).
O seem the stranger lies my lot, my life Among strangers.
Father and mother dear,
Brothers and sisters are in Christ not near
And he my peace my parting, sword and strife.
England, whose honour
O all my heart woos, wife
To my creating thought, would neither hear
Me, were I pleading, plead nor do I: I wear-
y of idle a being but by where wars are rife.
I am in Ireland now; now I am at a thírd
Remove. Not but in all removes I can
Kind love both give and get. Only what word
Wisest my heart breeds dark heaven’s baffling ban
Bars or hell’s spell thwarts. This to hoard unheard,
Heard unheeded, leaves me a lonely began.