literature

Free To Love

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Literature Text

An t-Uile-losgadh, dlùth ris an deireadh The Shoah, close to the ending
Na Linne Dhorcha, tràth gun iochd ruinne, Of the Dark Age, a time without mercy to us,
Na fir gu bheil gaol aig air fir eile, The men who love other men,
Gun luaigh air milleadh-dùil ghairg na drùise… Without mention cruelty of frustrated lust…

Linn 'nuair a chaill na fir gun do mhothaich An age when men who felt greatly
Gu mòr airson am bràithrean am ciall chlaoidht' For their brothers lost their strained sanity
Oir mhillteadh iad nan leantadh an t-iarraidh For they would be ruined if the yearning of a heart
Chridh' dhòrainneach, cho geur agus fuar-rag So anguished would be followed, so raw and numb
Am cridheachan claoidht', cridheachan bochda… Their tormented hearts, poor hearts…
A' brùthadh annta 'm miann fhìn ghnàthaich… Crushing within them their own, natural desire…
Gun till fear eile 'm mothachadh riutha… That another man shall return the feeling…

Sèisd: Chorus:
O, saor a ghabhail gràdh-! Na h-òrain O, free to love-! The songs
Nan eun fhìn Aonghais, nigheadh an laoidh Of the very birds of Aengus, their anthem
A' chuimhne 'n dranndain fhuair nam faol uaim Would wash the memory of the snarl of the wolves from me
Nam b'urrainn sinne 'bhith gu sìorraidh If we could be for all time
Le chèile, ghabhail gràdh, sinn còmhla… Together, to love, us together…


Fo dòrainn 's eagal dhaingeann a' fuireach, Living in constant fear and agony,
Bha trom an saoghal, cridheachan trom le Heavy was their world, hearts heavy with
Deòir nach do dhùraig iad a shileadh, Tears that they dared not shed,
Air fir nach b'urrainn 'bhith aca, cho cèin, For men that they could not have, so distant,
Oir thàinig faoil gan sealg-sa na b' gairg' na For wolves came to hunt them more harshly than
Mus, deas a reubadh 'm feòil theann ri mìrean, Before, ready to shred their taut flesh,
Gan tilgeil dha na tuill dhubh an Talmhainn, To throw them to the dungeons of the Earth,
Na dìobaraich eil' gan creachadh cuideachd, The other outcasts to prey on them too,
Luchd-coimhid garga 'chur iad fo cràdh… Savage overseers to torture them…
À saighdear 's tràill mar aon, ainneart, ged rinn Abuse from soldier and slave alike, although they
Iad mar na "dàirichean-tòine" 'nuair cha Made like the "arse-fuckers" when they
Robh mnathan 'dhàireadh ann, airson èiginn', Had not a woman there to rut, out of necessity,
Cho fada 's nach do mhothaich iad air an As long as they did not feel for
Son: fir eil'; abair gràineil 's mì-ghnàthach… Them: other men; how disgusting and unnatural…

Sèisd: Chorus:

Och, cràidhidh 'n cridh' seo agam air an son…! Alas, this heart of mine aches for them…!

Sèisd: Chorus:

O abair b'urrainn mi a chaoineadh 'nis O how I could weep now
Gu bheil sinn saor a chumail a chèile, That we are free to hold each other,
Gum faodaidh 'n t-iarraidh 'ghaoil 'nis a bhith, That the yearning of love may now be,
Mu dheireadh thall, leis, coileanta, còmhla At long last, with him, fulfilled, together
An dèidh cho fada, 'n Tighearna mo chridh' … After so long, the Lord of my heart…
Na deòir gun caoin mi, caoinidh mi iadsan The tears that I weep, they come
On àgh gur fìor e, 'ghàirdeanan umam, From joy that he is real, his arms around me,
Gum faodaidh mi ga phògadh air a chridh' That I may kiss his heart
Tron chraiceann ionmhainn, ghrinn air a chliathain, Through the dear, fine skin on his breastbone,
Thoirt buidheachais airson Bheatha ghràdhach, May give thanks for dear Life,
Airson mo thiodhlaic Aonghais fhìn, ionmhainn…! For my gift of Aengus himself, darling…!

Sèisd: Chorus:
First of all, the original poem is in Gaelic. I taught myself Gaelic (although I would appreciate if any fluent speaker would correct me if I am mistaken in my grammar), partly because of my heritage and also because it's such a beautiful language and I can't bear that it's become so fragile.

This poem was drawn from LGBT history from the Fall of Rome to the present. Hitler's rise to power and the Shoah especially influenced it. This poem is a tribute to the gay men who were targeted, tormented, and murdered by the Nazis, and is a nod to the personal turmoil that they must have felt... and the anthem ends with a moment of thanksgiving for what progress has been made since then. The early days of the AIDS epidemic and the hostility toward gay men also come to mind.

This was one of the most intense experiences that I have yet had in writing, especially in that I was listening to deeply emotional love songs by Mario Frangoulis, Alessandro Safina, Axel Fernando, Patrick Fiori, Andrea Bocelli, Christian Andreason, and others... and trying to envision the emotional energy of the collective victims, if not one particular voice. I was so overwhelmed by the experience that I was in something of a trance the whole evening Tuesday (I couldn't even watch and enjoy the Daily Show or the Colbert Report). That I could write like this more often.

Aengus refers to the ancient Irish god of love, youth, and beauty; in his service, he had four birds who carried messages of love.
© 2013 - 2024 diddles25
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Master-of-the-Boot's avatar
going back to my days as an exotic dancer, I remember when one patron talked about his days on the LGBT scene in the sixties and seventies. On the surface he came across as a bit of a horndog, but there was a lot of pain and scars on the inside; and that even in an age of relative love and tolerance the trauma was still there. 

This poem is loss, it is trauma, it is an air of fear. 

I feel myself suffocating when I read through this shroud of darkness. 

It's definitely a powerful work.