The next thing I want to read from the book
is a series of three poems.
I've been working on a process that I've
kind of deemed sui-translations, translations for the South.
And what I was doing was taking traditional Mohawk songs
and chants and translating them from the Mohawk into English,
and then after doing a direct translation,
writing a poem based on that translation.
And my point in doing these translations
for myself was that part of the oral tradition
that most people don't recognize or that anthropologists often
overlooked was that the oral tradition
has to change in order to create relevancy.
So I looked at three songs that would normally have nothing
to do with my life unless I was able to translate them
into something that did.
So I chose a canoe song, which was basically a work song
that people sang while paddling, a mosquito song that you sang
when there are mosquitoes that were bothering you,
which often happens in New York State, and a cornbread song.
So the way they're set up and the way
I'll read them is I'll read them in Mohawk first,
then the literal translation, then the poem
that came from them.
"Three Translations from the Mohawk: Canoe Song."
Teiohonwa:ka ne'ni akhonwe:ia. Kon'tatieshon iohnekotatie. Wakkawehatie, wakkawehatie.
"The canoe is very fast.
It is mine.
All day I hit the water, I paddle along, I paddle along.
I'm the hull, rapid against your stream,
birch beneath the rib circumnavigating your body.
Endless propeller of my arm as it circles to find the flow,
I move this way against you, I move this way."
"Mosquito Song."
Okariata:ne tahohotharatie. Tahsakohroria:ne ne tsi niho:ten.
Ne se aonha:a thorihwaka:ion. Ne se aonha:a thorihwaka:ion.
"The mosquito is bringing a message.
He comes to tell us how poor he is.
In truth, he is repetitive and brings the same old message."
It's actually my favorite song and I think
it's odd that we have a song about mosquitoes, but--
"A voice returns to tell these things of unencumbered arms,
returns to remind me in truth I am alone,
sleeping through the din of solitude's stinging messenger."
"Cornbread song."
Kana'tahrokhon:we teiothwe'non:ni Ne se ni:'i kwa wake:kahs.
Kana'tahrokhon:we teiothwe'non:ni. Onkwehon:we ronon:ni.
"This cornbread is round, I like it.
This cornbread is round, Indian people form it.
Circular we move to create the seminal form,
pleasured but saddened, creating a circle only.
The principle for people to give it form, lamenting we simply
lay."