About Gabriel Rosenstock
Gabriel Rosenstock is a bilingual poet, tankaist, haikuist, novelist, playwright, short storywriter, essayist and translator. He lives in Ireland.
Brightening of Days
Gabriel Rosenstock
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Tanka (5-7-5-7-7 syllables) in Irish, English and Croatian,
poems of love, mystery, and longing,
in response to artwork by Alfred Freddy Krupa (Croatia).
RAZVEDRAVANJE DANĀ
Tanka (5-7-5-7-7 slogova) na irskom, engleskom i hrvatskom,
pjesme ljubavi, otajstva i čežnje,
kao odgovor na umjetnička djela Alfreda Freddyja Krupe (Hrvatska).
Translation into Croatian by Tomislav Maretić
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Gabriel Rosenstock is a bilingual poet, tankaist,
novelist, haikuist, short story writer, playwright,
essayist and translator.
Blog | Books | Website
Published in association with:
Cross-Cultural Communications
239 Wynsum Avenue Merrick, NY 11566-4725/USA
Tel: 516/868-5635 Fax: 516/379-1901
Email: cccpoetry@aol.com
Cover: Stare kuće pod snijegom/ Old houses under snow/ Seantithe faoi shneachta (1997)
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All artwork in Brightening of Days is by Alfred Freddy Krupa (Croatia).
Alfred Freddy Krupa (Photo: Dinko Neskusil)
© Gabriel Rosenstock, 2022 (Texts in Irish, English)
© Tomislav Maretić, 2022 (Texts in Croatian)
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féach, an Korana
ag cur thar maoil leis an bhFómhar
táimse leis, a stór
ag cur thar maoil ionatsa
ó cuireadh tús leis an domhan
Look, the Korana
is overflowing with Autumn
Belovèd, as i
overflow in you, gently
since the beginning of time
pogledaj, Koranu
prepuna je jeseni
Voljena, kao što se ja
prelijevam u tebi, nježno
od početka vremena
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dhamhsaíodar, a shearc,
ba thusa an damhsa sin
damhsa na gcrann geal
fonn Peirseach á dtionlacan
tost guairneánach ina lár
For hours, my treasure,
they danced—and the dance was You
in silver birches
swaying to a Persian tune
whirling silence at its core
satima, blago moje,
plesali su – a ples bijaše Ti
u srebrnim brezama
njišuć se na perzijski napjev
vrtložna tišina u svojoj srži
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is leo mo laoithe
an sorcas an áit cheart dóibh
níl gá agam leo
bídís ag leoin is tíogair
caitheadh fir ghrinn san aer iad
i’ll give them my songs
let the circus have them now
i’ve no use for them
feed them to lions and tigers
or let the clowns juggle them
dat ću im svoje pjesme
nek ih sad cirkus ima sve
nemam koristi od njih
nahrani njima lavove i tigrove
ili neka klaunovi žongliraju njima
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sea, cad déarfaidh mé
cuir focail im' bhéal led' thoil
is déarfadsa iad
n'fheadar cad is ceart a rá
cad ba mhaith leat a chloisteáil?
What am i to say
You must put words in my mouth
i shall utter them
but do i know what to say
what is it You wish to hear?
tko sam ja da govorim
moraš mi Ti staviti riječi u usta
izgovorit ću ih
ali znam li što ću reći
što je to što Ti želiš čuti?
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mura ndéanfainn é
cé a fhógróidh an chamhaoir
tá fhios agatsa
gur fhanas im’ thost go ciúin
mé ag tnúth leis an lá geal
If not me, who then
who will herald the red dawn?
You know, Belovèd,
how secretly i’ve waited
for the brightening of our days
ako ne ja, tko je onda
taj koji će navijestiti crvenu zoru
Ti znaš, Voljena
kako sam potajno čekao
razvedravanje naših dana
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tuigim cad ’tá uaim
sé ’tá uaim foighne na gcat
agus croí Krishna
mé ag feitheamh leat de shíor
ní mharódh an diabhal féin mé
i know what i need
i need the patience of cats
the heart of Krishna
and wait for You forever
Belovèd, nine lives i lead
znam što mi treba
treba mi strpljenje mačaka
srce Krišne
i čekanje na Te zauvijek
Voljena, devet života vodim
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tar i gcabhair orm
táim im’ chime ag dánta
ó mhaidin go hoích’
tarrtháil mé le do shéimhe
nocht tú féin is beidh mé saor
Come to my rescue
i’m imprisoned by poetry
all day and all night
rescue me with Your silence
show Yourself and i’ll be free
dođi mi u pomoć
zatočen sam poezijom
cijeli dan i cijelu noć
spasi me svojom šutnjom
pokaži Sebe i bit ću slobodan
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bheith fágtha gan luid
aimseofar an fhírinne
i loime an fhómhair
a scuabfaidh an domhan chun siúil
más lom istigh atáimid
Stripped of everything
only then is truth made known:
this autumn bareness
will sweep everything away
if we find its source within
lišen svega
tek tada obznanjuje se istina:
ova jesenska golotinja
sve će netragom pomesti
ako u njoj nađemo njen izvor
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táim athchóirithe
curtha le chéile arís
chomh maith le fear nua
bead im’ smidiríní athuair
in am is i dtráth, a stór
i am being restored
they’re putting me together
i’ll be good as new
then i’ll fall apart again
when the time comes, Belovèd
ja se obnavljam
oni me sastavljaju
bit ću dobar kao nov
onda ću se opet raspasti
kad dođe vrijeme, Voljena
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mo chuid fréamhacha
lorgaím ionatsa iad
is cuardach domhain é
lorgaím thall is abhus
gach áit – is mé leath im’ ghealt
i search for my roots
i search for them within You
i’m searching deeply
madly, wildly, here and there
i am searching everywhere
tražim svoje korijene
tražim ih u Tebi
tražim ih duboko
ludo, divlje, ovdje i ondje
tražim ih posvuda
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cén pláinéad é seo
cad a nochtann romham sa cheo
Ardeaglais Naomh Pól
ó, táim i bhfad ó bhaile
rófhada . . . doshamhlaithe
What planet is this
what rises up from the mist?
St. Paul’s Cathedral
Belovèd, i’m far from home
farther than is possible
koji je planet taj
koji se diže iz sumaglice
Katedrala Svetog Pavla
Voljena, daleko sam od doma
dalje nego što je moguće
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ag dul trí thine
fiú agus é faoi shneachta
staid intinne é
ní fhéadfá sliabh a thabhairt air
rud eile is ea Fuji
It seems to take fire
even when covered in snow
It’s a state of mind
It’s not a mountain at all
Fuji is not of our world
čini se da počinje gorjeti
čak kada je pokriven snijegom
to je stanje uma
to uopće nije planina
Fuji nije iz našeg svijeta
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a thaisce, féach air
Fuji arís; dúirt mé leat
tá sé gach aon áit
cá bhfuil an áit nach ann dó
dia uileláithreach é
Look at it, just look
Fuji again; i told You
It is everywhere
Show me a place where it’s not
god-like, it’s ubiquitous
pogledaj, samo pogledaj
opet Fuji; rekoh Ti
posvuda je
pokaži mi mjesto gdje nije
bogolik, svenazočan
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druideann sé im’ leith
cén gaol atá agam leis
mise is Fuji
mo chreach, scairtim d’ainmse
ní fhreagraíonn mé ach sliabh fuar
Why does it draw near
what am i to Fujisan
Fujisan to me?
i utter Your name, alas
nothing but a cold mountain
zašto se približava
što sam ja časnom Fujiju
časni Fuji za mene
izgovaram Tvoje ime, nažalost
ničeg osim hladne planine
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an domhain í an abhainn
an domhain iad mo chuid laoithe
cad is doimhneacht ann
tá eagla orainn roimh ár mbá
go mbáitear i d’ainm mé!
How deep the river
how deep are these songs for You
how deep can one go
We fear drowning, Belovèd
may i drown now in Your name!
koliko duboka rijeka
koliko su duboke ove pjesme za Te
koliko duboko se može ići
bojimo se utapanja, Voljena
mogu li se sada utopiti u Tvojem imenu!
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chuas thar fóir, a shearc
an iomarca ráite agam
chuas rófhada leis
caithfear gach aon ní a mheas
ar scáth realpolitik
i have said too much
Belovèd, i’ve gone too far
Everything i’ve said
must be reconsidered now
it’s called realpolitik
rekao sam previše
Voljena, otišao sam predaleko
sve što sam rekao
mora se sada preispitati
to se zove realpolitika
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fréamhaithe, a chuid
in amhráin is i ndánta
bhfuil fréamh ar bith ann?
cá bhfuil fréamhacha an aigéin
fréamh na géar-ghaoithe os a chionn
Rooted in poetry
and song, Belovèd! Rooted?
Roots cannot exist
ask the ocean for its roots
a savage wind sweeps the waves
ukorijenjen u pjesništvo
i pjesmu, Voljena! Ukorijenjen?
korijenje ne postoji
pitaj ocean za korijenje
divlji vjetar mete valove
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an sorcas ar ais . . .
cathain a d’fhág sé, a shearc
boladh bog mionraibh . . .
ní imeoidh an sorcas uainn
ainneoin a dhíchill, a chuid
The circus is back . . .
When did it leave, Belovèd?
Soft scent of sawdust . . .
try as it might, it can’t leave
the circus is forever
cirkus se vratio…
kad je otišao, Voljena
blagi miris piljevine . . .
koliko god pokuša, ne može otići
cirkus je zauvijek
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na ráillí tréigthe
leanaimis na ráillí sin:
teangacha tréigthe
treibheanna tréigthe an domhain
mise ’gus tusa ’thréig iad
Bare abandoned tracks
it is these we should follow:
all abandoned tongues
the abandoned tribes of earth
it’s we who’ve abandoned them
goli napušteni tragovi
ti su koje bismo trebali slijediti:
sve napuštene jezike
napuštena plemena zemlje
to mi smo koji smo ih napustili
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beitheanna geala
ní cuimhin linn a dteanga bhinn
labhradar linn tráth
go deimhin féin, a chroí istigh
nochtadar a gcuid rún dúinn
Silver birches
we’ve forgotten their language
they once spoke to us
to all of us, Belovèd,
laying bare our secrets . . . theirs
srebrne breze
zaboravili smo njihov jezik
jednom su nam govorili
svima nama, Voljena
otkrivajući naše tajne . . . svoje
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níor thuig éinne iad
nuair a thángadar ón spás
seachas beitheanna
do thuigeadar a chéile
teanga ársa réamhdhaonna
Aliens arrived
but no one understood them
they spoke to birches
they shared a common language
before homo sapiens
izvanzemaljci su stigli
ali ih nitko nije razumio
razgovarali su s brezama
dijelili su zajednički jezik
prije homo sapiensa
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tá cuimhne ag an gcill
fiú má tá néal ar an meabhair
tá cuimhne ag lámh
do tharla sé, a thaisce
bhíomarna tráth béal le béal
Each cell remembers
though the mind may grow confused
a hand remembers
Belovèd, we once were real
lip to lip for nights on end
svaka stanica pamti
premda se um može zbuniti
ruka pamti
Ljubljena, nekad smo bili stvarni
usnom na usni iz noći u noć
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dúisíonn an chathair
tosaíonn ag taibhreamh athuair
táim ag smaoineamh ort
dá ndúiseoimis le chéile
an bheirt againn taobh le taobh
The city awakes
to its dreams of sweet slumber
i’m thinking of You
if we could awake, right now
awake in each other’s arms
grad se budi
u snovima slatkog drijemeža
mislim na Tebe
bi li se mi mogli probuditi, baš sada
probuditi jedno drugom u zagrljaju
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bain an ceobhrán sin
an doiléire aerach sin
easpa imlínte
ón lá seo amach, bíodh spéir
is uisce chomh glé le Zen
Take away the mist
the vagueness and ghostliness
the lack of contours
from this day on, let water
and sky be as clear as Zen
izbriši sumaglicu
nedorečenost i sablasnost
nedostatak obrisa
od ovog dana, neka voda
i nebo budu jasni kao Zen
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seanlaethanta
ní chuimhním orthu níos mó
seanlaethanta?
laethanta óga atá uaim
laethanta nár rugadh fós
The old days, is it?
i no longer recall them
What’s with these old days?
It’s young days that interest me
newfound days as yet unborn
stari dani, zar ne?
više ih se ne sjećam
što je s tim starim danima?
zanimaju me mladi dani
novootkriveni još nerođeni
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chualaís leis iad
scéalta faoi oileán draíochta
an ionainn ’tá sé?
táimid sa ríocht chontráilte
laethanta an mhadra
You have heard them too
those tales of a magic isle
Is it within us
We’re seeking in the wrong realm
through never-ending dog-days
Ti si ih također čula
one priče čarobnog otoka
su u nama
tražimo krivo kraljevstvo
kroz beskrajne pasje dane
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labhair guth, bí anseo
bí anseo anois, ar sé
cad is brí leis sin?
níl anseo ná anois ann
sin ba chóra dó a rá
A voice says, be here
be here now is what it says
Where’s here? What is now?
there’s no here and there’s no now
this is what the voice should say
glas kaže, budi ovdje
budi ovdje sada je to što veli
gdje je ovdje? što je sada?
nema ovdje i nema sada
to bi glas trebao reći
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tírdhreach mo chroíse
tírdhreach gan tús gan deireadh
faoi thuilte atá sé
táim báite ar fad agat
is ní bhraithim m’anáil féin
Landscape of my heart
no beginning and no end
flooded completely
i have lost myself in You
i scarcely sense my own breath
krajolik mog srca
nema početka i kraja
potpuno poplavljen
izgubio sam sebe u Tebi
jedva osjećam vlastiti dah
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gile na gile!
cad is fiú aisling ar bith
gan tusa inti
na haislingí ’chuaigh amú
is iad caite i bhfásach fraoigh
Brightness of brightness!
What does it mean, to daydream
without You in it?
How many visions were lost
cast to the heathery heath
obasjanost obasjanosti
što to znači, sanjariti
bez Tebe u njoj
koliko je vizija izgubljeno
bačeno na vrištinu vrijeska
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lucht tógtha Auschwitz
daoine ar ár gcuma féin
d’óladar bainne
ní ó chíocha dubha deamhain
ach ó mháithreacha grámhar’
Those who built Auschwitz
they were human beings like us
they once drank breastmilk
not from dry demonic paps
but from their loving mothers
oni koji su gradili Auschwitz
bili su ljudska bića baš kao i mi
jednom su pili majčino mlijeko
ne od suhih demonskih grudi
nego od voljenih majka
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báisteach roimh thitim
is an ghrian sula scalann
an sioc á shaolú
gaoth sula n-aithnítear í
grá sula labhartar siolla
Rain before it falls
and the sun before it shines
and the birth of frost
and wind before it is known
love before it is spoken
kiša prije nego što padne
i sunce prije nego što zasja
i rađanje mraza
i vjetar prije nego što se zna
ljubav prije nego što se izgovori
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laethanta samhraidh
breis ama chun machnamh ort
an t-am féin ag meath
táimid ar fán sa tsíoraíocht
ar ghathanna a chéile
Lazy summer days
more time to contemplate You
time itself decays
we drift in eternity
along rays of our being
lijeni ljetni dani
više vremena za razmatranje Tebe
vrijeme se samo raspada
plovimo u vječnosti
duž zrȃkā našeg vlastitog bića
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beirigí chuici
mo chuid laoithe, a éanlaith
canaigí go binn
go fíor is le croí mór maith
mar a chan bhur sinsir romhaibh
Take my songs to her
birds of the air together
sing sweetly for her
sing truthfully, sincerely
as once your ancestors did
odnesite joj moje pjesme
sve ptice nebeske
pjevajte joj slatko
pjevajte istinito, iskreno
kao što su nekad vaši pretci
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déan bualadh bos ard
chun go gcloisfeadh na déithe
agus na heasa
na sléibhte, na haibhneacha
foraoisí beo na cruinne
Clap Your hands loudly
so that the gods may hear us
and the waterfalls
the mountains and the rivers
all the forests of the world
pljesnite rukama glasno
da nas bogovi mogu čuti
i vodopadi
planine i rijeke
sve šume svijeta
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cén fhaid a d’fhanas
milliún bliain? b’fhéidir níos mó
is do gheal an lá
rugadh i mo dhaonnaí mé
chun go mórfainn d’ainmse
How long did i wait,
a million years? maybe more
then a new day dawned
born as homo sapiens
and trained to utter Your name
koliko sam dugo čekao
milijun godina? možda više
onda je osvanuo novi dan
rođen kao homo sapiens
i uvježban izreći Tvoje ime
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an té ’tá sa tóir
is an té a bhfuil tóir air
mise iad araon
téada lonracha an Fhéin
ar fud an iontais shíoraí
Am i pursuer
in this cobweb, or pursued?
Surely i am both
these glittering threads of Self
throughout eternal wonder
jesam li progonitelj
u ovoj paučini, ili progonjeni
sigurno sam oboje
ove blistave niti Jastva
kroz vječno čudo
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bréagáin na ndéithe
an é sin atá ionainn
bí lándáiríre
tá cluiche amháin fágtha
is scaoilfear an brat anuas
Playthings of the gods
is that what You think we are?
Be serious now
there is one last game to play
before the curtain comes down
igračke bogova
je l’ to ono što Ti mniš da jesmo
budi ozbiljna sad
valja odigrati još posljednju igru
prije nego što se spusti zastor
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filleann an éanlaith
ar an nead nó socraíonn síos
ar sceach nó ar ghéag
cá raghaidh mo chuid laoithe –
á gcaitheamh thart san fholús
Wild birds of the air
return freely to their nest
or rest on a branch
my songs have nowhere to go
tossed about in emptiness
divlje ptice nebeske
slobodno se vraćaju u svoje gnijezdo
ili se odmaraju na grani
moje pjesme nemaju kamo otići
razbacane u praznini
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an bhfeacaís é sin
d’eitil Fujisan tharainn
i bhfaiteadh na súl
teacht is imeacht Fujisan
is deacair coinneáil suas leis
Hey, did You see that
Fujisan is flying by
Blink and you miss it
Fuji’s comings and goings
it’s hard to keep up with it
hej, jeste li to vidjeli
časni Fuji prolazi
samo trepni i promaći će
Fujijevi dolasci i odlasci
teško je sve to pratiti
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oícheanta geimhridh
solas na gealaí sa bhád
cuimhnímse, a stór
ar ár n-aistear fada beirt
sular shroiseamar an domhan
When on wintry nights
the boat fills up with moonlight
i think, Belovèd,
of our voyage together
before we reached this new world
kad u zimskim noćima
brod se puni mjesečinom
mislim, Voljena
na naše dugo zajedničko putovanje
prije nego dosegnusmo novi svijet
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Further Reading
More bilingual ekphrastic tanka:
Every Night I Send You Flowers
(Bilingual tanka in response to artwork by Odilon Redon.
Published in association with
Cross-Cultural Communications, New York, 2020):
The Road to Corrymore / Bóthar an Choire Mhóir
(Bilingual tanka in response to artwork by various hands.
Published in association with
Cross-Cultural Communications, New York, 2021):
Rising Flame of Love
(Bhakti- and Advaita-inspired tanka in response to artwork on vintage Indian matchboxes.
Published in association with Cross-Cultural Communications, New York, 2021):
Broken Angels / Aingil Bhriste
(Bilingual tanka in response to artwork by various hands.
Published in association with Cross-Cultural Communications, New York, 2021)
Outskirts of the Mind / Ciumhais na hAigne
(Bilingual tanka in response to artwork by various hands. Published in association with Cross-
Cultural Communications, New York, 2021)
Secret of Secrets / Rún na Rún
(Bilingual tanka in response to artwork by various hands. Published in association with Cross-
Cultural Communications, New York, 2021)
The Lantern / An Lóchran
(Bilingual tanka in response to artwork by various hands. Published in association with Cross-
Cultural Communications, New York, 2021)
Short tanka & haiku video-poems from Inner Soul Films:
BUDDHA DIED
NISARGADATTA
Haiku (for Julian Assange)
Haiku(for Ilhan Sami Çomak, 26 years in prison)
86
Early ekphrastic tanka on Pinterest:
Ekphrastic Tanka - Vol 1 - Gabriel Rosenstock
Ekphrastic Tanka - Vol 2 - Gabriel Rosenstock
Ekphrastic Tanka - Vol 3 - Gabriel Rosenstock
Ekphrastic Tanka - Vol 4 - Gabriel Rosenstock
THE DAILY UPDATE OF CAFE DISSENSUS MAGAZINE – WE DISSENT:
Café Dissensus
Ekphrastic haiku:
Ekphrastic Haiku vol.1 - Gabriel Rosenstock
Rare Times Kindle Edition by Gabriel Rosenstock
Free Haiku Books, Chapbooks & other Resources:
STILLNESS OF CROWS haiku by Gabriel Rosenstock
WHERE THE LIGHT BEGINS haiku by Gabriel Rosenstock
SILVER BIRCHES: Gabriel Rosenstock Haiku Collection
MÉ IÓNA I AM JONAH A bilingual haiku sequence by Gabriel Rosenstock
The Crows of Kilfinane A bilingual rensaku (haiku sequence) by Gabriel Rosenstock
DUCKS IN SEARCH OF THE MOON Haiku by Gabriel Rosenstock
THE FLOATING UNIVERSE Haiku by Gabriel Rosenstock
Caitríona O'Leary StampHaikuSong Video
Haiku as Gaeilge – 1 Video
Haiku as Gaeilge – 2 Video
Haiku as Gaeilge – 3 Video
Interviews:
Modern Literature: Ploughing a Lone Furrow – Gabriel Rosenstock
Clio, a Journal of Literature, History, and the Philosophy of History: On Writing Tanka: An
Interview with Irish Poet Gabriel Rosenstock
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Brightening of Days
Tanka poems (5-7-5-7-7 syllables), in Irish, English and Croatian in response to artwork by
renowned Croatian artist, Alfred Freddy Krupa.
Alfred Freddy Krupa (14 June 1971, Karlovac, former Yugoslavia) is a Croatian contemporary
painter, master draughtsman, book artist, art photographer and art teacher. Krupa is a
pioneering force in the New Ink Art movement, known for its minimalism and intensity, an
international movement rooted in contemporary reality with origins in the Far East.
Gabriel Rosenstock is a poet, haikuist, tankaist, novelist, playwright, essayist, children’s author,
short story writer and translator. Recent bilingual volumes of poems include Glengower: Poems
for No One in Irish and English (The Onslaught Press) and Conversations with Li He (Cross-Cultural
Communications, New York). The Stars Are His Bones (Cross-Cultural Communications 2021) is a
unique collaborative project with Kolkata-based photographer Debiprasad Mukherjee which
creates found haiku from Upanishadic texts.
Tanka pjesme (5-7-5-7-7 slogova), na irskom, engleskom i hrvatskom jeziku kao odgovor na
umjetnička djela poznatog hrvatskog umjetnika Alfreda Freddyja Krupe.
Alfred Freddy Krupa (14. lipnja 1971., Karlovac, bivša Jugoslavija) hrvatski je suvremeni slikar,
majstor crtač, illustrator knjiga, umjetnički fotograf i učitelj likovne kulture. Krupa je pionir u
pokretu New Ink Art, poznatom po minimalizmu i intenzitetu, internacionalnom pokretu,
ukorijenjenom u suvremenoj stvarnosti, podrijetlom s Dalekog istoka.
Gabriel Rosenstock je pjesnik, haikuist, pisac tanka, romanopisac, dramatičar, esejist, dječji autor,
pisac kratkih priča i prevoditelj. Nedavni dvojezični svesci pjesama uključuju Glengower: Poems
for No One na irskom i engleskom (The Onslaught Press) i Conversations with Li He (Cross-Cultural
Communications, New York.) Zvijezde su njegove kosti (Cross-Cultural Communications 2021.) je
jedinstveni suradnički projekt s fotografom Debiprasadom Mukherjeeom iz Kalkute koji stvara
pronađene haiku iz upanišadskih tekstova.
Website:
https://www.rosenstockandrosenstock.com/
In his idle moments, Gabriel invents Nasrudin tales and the first collection of these is Mullah
Nasrudin is Alive and Well (CCC, New York, 2022).