Dog three bones has

The above art work is by Suzanne Bellamy, Text Box (a pictographic poem), porcelain and oils on wood. Copyright 2011.
Photograph by Susan Hawthorne,© 2011.


Dog three bones has

moon : crunch time : three bones : dog : has

fence : ( ) : ( ) : centred : crescent moon : howling dogs : throw : is juggled

woman : dilly bag : carries : full moon : fish : swim : encircle : ( )

moon sets : mountain : path : sees / follows : crunch time : comes

Word by word translation
dog three bones has
moon time crunch time is
(what) is thrown is juggled; dogs howl (under the moon)
crescent moon centred fence (is)
fish swim (and?) encircle full moon
woman dilly bag carries
crunch time comes
she (?)the mountain path sees/ follows : moon sets


Developed translation
dog has three bones
in the crunch time is moon time
dogs howl under the moon in transit
juggling time
above the fence the crescent moon rises centred
fish swim encircling the reflected full moon
a woman in transit carries a dilly bag
she follows the mountain path
the moon sets
crunch times comes

Discussion of grammatical forms
moon (nominative): crunch time (locative absolute) : three bones (accusative plural) : dog (nominative) : has (verb indicative)

fence (locative – above surmised) : ( ? ) : ( ? ) : centred (gerund, completed action) : crescent moon (nominative bahuvrihi compound) : howling dogs (dual nominative with adjectival compound) : throw (idiom: time and throw are used interchangeably) : is juggled (passive)

woman (nominative) : dilly bag (accusative) : carries (indicative – note parallel structure to first sentence) : full moon (accusative) : fish (nominative plural) : swim (indicative) : encircle (gerund) : ( ) (surmised: reflection of moon on water)

moon (nominative) sets (indicative) : mountain (adjectival form, accusative) : path (accusative) : sees / follows (wide semantic arc, can have both meanings) : crunch time (locative absolute) : comes (indicative)

The problematics of translation across species worlds: translating Ooss

As is clear from this translation there remain many gaps in our understanding of Os (or Ooss). While somewhat ossified, the language does have some transparency and a number of difficulties. The first thing to say is that the language while partially pictographic has a number of indicators for complex tenses and verb structures. Like other ancient languages it has three persons: singular, dual and plural. One strange element is that only the feminine gender is found (with a few archaic terms in neuter).

This short poetic fragment is suggestive of ritual time in which the behaviour of dogs as the keepers of time is unsurprisingly given prominence. The only non-canine actor (the woman) is setting off on a pilgrimage of some sort (crunch time?)

The difficulty with the word reflected is, I surmise, due to the lack of smell in a reflection, so the reflection’s unreality is a conceptual lacuna. If the subject of the woman sentence had been a dog, the wide semantic arc would have extended to the word ‘smells’ as well as ‘sees’ and ‘follows’.

It is clear from the original sentence structure that what is before the snout is of prime importance. Furthermore, the moon, the dogs (three so far) and the woman are in some kind of triangulated relationship with the fish, the sea and the reflected moon. Perhaps one indicates the mundane world, while the other has esoteric meanings. The question is which is which?


The above translation was made while visiting Suzanne Bellamy's Mongarlowe Studio in December 2011.

Japanese
The following translations into Japanese were made by Michelle Kasparian during the lecture I gave at the University of Wollongong today (24 April 2012). Michelle writes:


"Here's the three different ways you can translate the first line of 'Dog Three Bones Has' into Japanese.


"I've put each line into each level of reading in Japanese (Kanji, Hiragana and Romaji). Romaji is the Japanese words written in English letters and makes it easier to pronounce/read aloud if the reader doesn't know Japanese."


I (Susan) am thrilled by these translations and the way in which the translation is a comment on the uncertainty of translation. Translation is an art which has multiple answers.


１． 月にクランシューの時は犬が三つの骨を持っていた。

つきにクランシューのときはいぬがさんつのもっていた。

tsuki ni kuranshuu no toki wa inu ga santsu o motte ita.


２． 月にクランシューの時で、犬は骨が三つを持っていた。

つきにクランシューのときで、いぬがさんつをもっていた。

tsuki ni kuranshuu no toki de, inu ga santsu o motte ita.


３． 月の下でクランシューの時に犬が三つ骨を持っていた。

つきのしたでクランシューのときにいぬがさんつほねをもっていた。

tsuki no shita de kuranshuu no toki ni inu ga santsu hone o motte ita.

Flood, 1974

In 2008 Suzanne Bellamy and I were commissioned by Lella Cariddi to bring together art and poetry for a touring exhibition on the subject of drought. Drought is often followed by flood and the poem here was written in memory of the flood which I experienced on my parents' farm along the Murrumbidgee River at Wagga in September 1974. This year Wagga has seen floods yet again, as has Brisbane and many other towns across Australia - as well as in the Philippines and Brazil.

The image is from the canvas Suzanne produced in response to my poems while I in turn wrote new poems inspired by her art. We have been friends for many years and it was great to be able to work together on this project.

For all the people reeling from the flood, wherever you are


Flood, 1974
There’s a roar that a river makes as
it breaks its banks– a sound that grumbles

deep into the body, unearthly, I think,
but earthly is what it is. We watch the

sun rise over the front paddock,
our bodies absorbing the flood’s power,

a shuddering that is later taken up
by the muscles in a great release.

It is a day of contrasts: we children
sent to round up cattle, our unkitchened

mother bakes a loaf of bread, our father
is trapped in a tree for thirteen long hours

while we sleep, eat our mother’s
bread, talk of the sky, the land,

the height of the river. Late afternoon
he is delivered in a boat, rescued by men

bearing sandwiches. None of us knew
of his ordeal until it was over. In the days

that follow we gauge the level of the river,
walk again the reduced banks, watch

the swirl of snag-driven water,
thrilling to the sudden birdlife.

The poem is from the chapbook, Unsettling the Land by Suzanne Bellamy and Susan Hawthorne, Spinifex Press, 2008

gods

The photo is of a cemetery in Comillas in Spain; the poem about a night of poetry at The Gods in Canberra.

gods dp218

the gods we make of ourselves are a door
into the social psyche so many mourn the loss
of gods the goddess of dawn to greet the day
or god in a butterfly teaching metamorphosis
even Camus whose name sounds like a perfect
Sanskrit plural threw away that possibility
in the suburbs men worship the god of lawns
only on a Sunday others follow the dogs paws
while Eve rages against eternal damnation
and gives no gods pause no wings to words
instead psyche is let loose in the city with her
accomplice angel to grace the pages of poetry
books dwelling on death searching for the
ultimate definition of god whether by deception
or by grace only to find that the local gods
have changed their names to Tony and Judy