This poem points the restless being of our mind and though your seeking for answers is appreciable (it is a must, I believe), you should improve on this one. Poem tells nothing new onwards from the first strophe, it's like saying the same just in different word. You might have even expanded the third strophe and dropped out first two. It is just my idea, but you may take some advise

Always try to answer those questions that you conjured up. Don't leave with the question. Answer it and don't bother with the answer - author should never interpretate his own verse, leave it for readers. It's their business to find the answer but you must give a source for that first. You may even implement some subtle story or movement in poetical way (just don't make it prose). Abstractions (like in this case) make obscurity. Everyone can ask. But are there any volunteers to answer? Challenge it. So why we wonder?

Maybe it's just me who didn't get a thing. Maybe there IS an irrational labyrinth in which we are "sentenced to wander this world". But why such punishment? What have we done? Say it, reveal it, bit by bit, freeing from abstractions and injecting some details

Sorry for me going that far; this must be a private topic

I am planning to work more on this one, but it is first and foremost just a play on words but I'll deffinetely implement those things which you point out though.

Yeah, I guess; and I should keep in mind that it's in English, your poems in mother tongue must be far greater anyway
For as me, I can't manage to translate even a single verse of mine

Well, you can judge this one (had to sircumvent the censor when trying to write f'uck):

Neyðarrópið

Drímbýtur Kolvitnadali sat í skúlanum og lurtaði eftir einari áhugaverdari framløgu í enskum, tá hann brádliga sá tað:

F'uck,
Eitt orð millum mong,
eitt orð í meldrinum
av stjørnum, sirklum og krúti.-
Eitt orð, ið var skrivað á borðið.

F'uck,
hvat sigur tú ikki nógv um næmingsins støðu.
Har hevur hann sitið,
frustreraður, troyttur, livandi jarðaður
í hini 11inti pláguni. Heimaarbeiði.

F'uck,
eitt neyðarróp djypri
enn Heimdal fatar.
Eitt tekin um vónleysa sálarangist
og klaustrofobiskar kenslur,
sum vilja út.

F'uck,
Orðið vit uppgevandi teska
Tá lærarin spyr:
"Hvar er stílurin?"


And here is the translation:

The Call of Distress

Drímbýtur Kolvitnadali sat in school and listened to a very interesting discussion in an English class, when he saw it:

F'uck,
a word amongst many,
a word in the maelstrom
of stars, circles and scribble.-
A word, which was written on the table.

F'uck,
you say so much about the students situation.
There he sat,
frustrated, tired, buried alive
in the 11th plague. Homework.

F'uck,
a call of distress deeper
than Heimdal* grasps.
A sign of hopeless agony
and claustrophobic feelings,
which want to get out.

F'uck,
the word we whisper as we give in
when the teacher asks:
"Where is the essay?"


*A god from the Norsh mytholoy. The one who guarded the rainbow bridge. He could see wool on sheep grow and hear the sound which the gras made as it grew.

The word "Neyðarrópið" means "The Call of Distress"? Nice, one word to the four words in English

Still, I think "Broken Mirror" is the best amongst those three. You did write this from your own real experience, I guess? Maybe after the school?

But I guess, I'll have to make you remember what is truly a poem.

quote:

Originally posted by Justice:

Og hvør ið enn klettum ræður ei á vindi vá
Teir hildu um stýrisvøl tá ódnin legði á
"Legg upp í lotið," rópti ein og samdir teir
hála á stýrisvøl, men alt til fánýtis

Leiðin er løgd, í gróti er høgd,
og eru vit nøgd tá søgnin er søgd

Og skriður tín knørrur fram tað sama hvat tú vil
Teir bardust um stýrisvøl men einki róður til
Og enn vit halda stýrisvøl eins og vit
halda vit eru fræls, trælborin óspurd so

Fjakka vit øll um kirkjugarðsvøll
í oyðini høll, um fjarbláu fjøll

Tiltuskað av landnyrðings ódn, og vindurin
leikar í Miðgarði mól
Til Ásgarðs har Askurin stóð, sum træðrirnir
lívsins í lotinum har blaktraðu tá

Fjakka vit øll um kirkjugarðsvøll
í oyðini høll, um fjarbláu fjøll

og fløtur, vitandi hvat mál vit megna livandi
Og feigdin dregur liðandi, vit vála henni
Tigandi á ting

Fjakka vit øll um kirkjugarðsvøll
í oyðini høll, um fjarbláu fjøll

Væl vitandi langnunnar leið, men gott er
tað treystið at val er í vón
Óteljandi leiðirnar tær, men ilt er tað
treystið at valið er gjørt, leiðin bert ein

Leiðin er løgd, í gróti er høgd
og eru vit nøgd tá søgnin er søgd

This is the power, remember?

You should improve translation and I think I'll try to translate it in Lithuanian. It's sad I don't know your language; in this case English is an intermediary that, unfortunately, may make some deviations from the original text. Not to forget that I may make also some inaccuracy while translating in Lithuanian. A bit discouraging, but we'll see.

The very first line of this poem is truly powerful, it's the sublimity of your verse and last five lines make strong ending.

This was what I meant that your verse is linked with Heroes atmosphere anyway. But it seems it is your strongest feature, so keep on that course (have you noticed, it sounds like curse?)

And I think it would be better if you wrote all poems in Faroesen and the translated it in English; writing directly in English makes it too blank, speaking from experience

That one is not mine the first ones I posted where by other Faroese poets that one by the metal group called Týr.

But yeah, we have many single words for what the English use several words on, but it also works the other way around now and then. And I wrote that one while in school, listening to a very interesting discussion in English... Pretending to take notes was the only way I could keep from falling asleep for some reason my classmates loved it.

Regarding the writing in English, then it depends on what you want. The best way to learn a language, I think, is to play with it in a creative way which pushes your limits. The result might be bad at first, but it gets better and better and so do your abbilities

quote:

Originally posted by tadaeusas:
The word "Neyðarrópið" means "The Call of Distress"? Nice, one word to the four words in English

...

Ha! orbiT sneers at pharaoese wordyness! In sweden, we do not only require but one word, but our word has fever letters:
"Nödrop"
Impressed? Yes orbiT knew you would be.

Which translates to "Distress Call" rather than "The Call of Distress"

Noooo! Why not yours, why not yours!? *Pelts Justice with carrots*

But if you translate a poem in English from your language that also push you beyond your limits; if you can translate a text from one to another language without any struggles that means you're an expert. That's usually one part of examinations if you study languages or at least the best preparation task before they come

quote:

Originally posted by Justice:
Which translates to "Distress Call" rather than "The Call of Distress"

Nödropet.
Still shorter

But less poetical and Swedish