Lé P'tit Prînce

After many years of on-off work with a final rush in the second half of this year as financing appeared for publication, my latest book is now published: a Jèrriais translation of Le Petit Prince by Saint-Exupéry

Minor/Major Tongues: Poetry in translation

Minor/Major Tongues: Poetry in translation

Waterstones, Saint Helier 6-7.30pm 25th July

 

 

Putting my health first

To no-one's surprise, given my recent health issues, I won't be standing for re-election in the forthcoming elections for Procureur du Bien Public. I am hopeful of progress, if slow progress, over coming months, but I couldn't honestly commit to giving the energy and time necessary to best serve the public at this time. Once I'm restored, as I hope, to better health, I will think again about standing in some capacity (and by that time I'll be able to actually stand up, without wobbling or falling over)

Safe to say, I won't be getting my Jèrriais version of The Tempest by Shakespeare completed in draft by the end of 2022; but FWIW here's Act 3 Scene 1

Bouanne Année!

Lé Pipl'ye Scroûbieux - The Scroobious Pip

Lé Pipl'ye Scroûbieux: it came into my head to do a Jèrriais version of The Scroobious Pip by Edward Lear. This nonsense poem was left unfinished at Lear's death and was only published posthumously in 1935. There are a few lines and words lacking, and one would think that Lear would have tidied up the scansion here and there if he's got round to finishing it. Since first publication a number of completions have been undertaken, including that of Ogden Nash in 1968. Of course, in translating the poem, I've filled in any missing portions and rearranged as necessary for poetic purposes or mere whim.

Previously, I've done Jèrriais versions of Lear's The Owl and the Pussycat, The Jumblies, and some limericks

Dans Les Clios D'Fliandres - In Flanders Fields

 Dans Les Clios D'Fliandres - In Flanders Fields

Dans les clios d'Fliandres craîssent des pavots
entre les raies d'crouaix par-chîn, par-lo,
tchi mèrquent nouos pliaiches; d'à haut ouïyiz
l's alouettes tuiter, à voltiyi
par-d'ssus l'brit d'l'artil'lie ès clios.

J'sommes, nous, les Morts. Y'a raîque un mio
j'vivêmes, viyêmes l'assinne acouo,
j'aimêmes; aimés, achteu couochis
dans les clios d'Fliandres.

Contre l'ennemîn èrprannez not' d'so;
d'nos mains faillies j'vouos pitchons l'gliot
d'not' torche: ch'est à vous d'la r'haûchi.
S'nou nouos ahonte, tch'avons mouothi,
souos ches pavots n'y'a d'aut' d'èrpos
dans les clios d'Fliandres.

 

A few weeks back I was interviewed (and rang the bachîn for, and even sang for) by journalists from French television. The package was broadcast today. 

 À quelques kilomètres du continent, les îles anglo-normandes ont un secret bien gardé. Leurs paysages de dunes et de falaises sont connus des vacanciers et leur statut fiscal avantageux fait le bonheur des banquiers. Au-delà des clichés, ces paradis ont leur propre culture.