2009 An Foras Feasa Fellowship

We are happy to announce Eibhlís Farrell as the 2009 An Foras Feasa Fellow.

Eibhlís is an Irish composer, as well as the Head of Music and Creative Media (Ceannasaí Roinn Ceoil agus Meáin Chruthaitheacha) at the Dundalk Institute of Technology. She will be attending the August 24 - September 14 retreat.

We would like to thank An Foras Feasa for sending Eibhlís our way. It is because of An Foras Feasa that La Muse was also able to welcome the poet Tadhg Ó Dúshláine last year. Tadgh is the head of the Irish department at the National University of Ireland, Maynooth. He will be attending La Muse again next month.

Below is one of the three poems from Tadgh's collection "Comhdháil." Tadgh wrote the poem while attending La Muse as the Foras Feasa Fellow last year. The poem won the Dánta na Comhdhála: Annual International Competition for best poem in Irish or Scots Gaelic. The Irish is followed by an English translation. (You can see video of the actual recital by Judith Mok that inspired Tadgh's poem at the end of the English translation below.)

Aiséirí

Ar chloisint Judith Mok ag ceol i Séipéilín na Maighdine, le linn oscailt thaispeántas ealaíne La Muse, Labastide Esparbärineque, Languedoc, ar an Domhnach, 9. 8. 2008.

Bhí drogall ar an ndoras géilleadh d’eochair an Mhéara
Is d’éagaoin na hinsí faoi éigean a ghuailne
Faoi mar ba réabadh reilige tuama seo an tseanchreidimh
Séipéilín tréigthe na Maighdine
Ar maos le hiarsmaí na seandeabhóide
Ó laethanta an chreidimh a bhí anallód ann,
A chur ar fáil mar ardán,
Do Phrima Donna opera ar saoire sa dúthaigh:
Gabhar sa teampall
Ná stadfadh go raghadh ’on altóir.

Lasadh coinnle ar mhaithe le hatmaisféar
Is bhailigh ealta caobach ar thóir cultúir isteach
Is chuir, dá mb’fhéidir san, le dreach truamhéileach na Maighdine,
Muire na nDólás,
Seachas mar a bhíodh tráth ar mhair sagart beo ar an mbaile.

Thabharfá do d’uidh
Stáisiúin na Croise i gcailc dhaite
Múnlaithe go maoithneach de réir treoracha tinneasnacha
Naomh Bonaventura in Smaointe Beatha Chríost:
Na súile móra dólásacha,
Na geáitsí drámatúla, na gothaí impíocha
A bhogfadh an croí cloiche ionainn tráth
Do dhóthain de thitimí, de mhaslaí is de sciúrseadh thuras na croise
Ag gabháil trí ghleann na ndeor duit siar amach go héadóchas Golgatha.

Agus bhí an fhoireann tacaíochta leis ó inné ann:
Páirt lárnach ag Seosamh an seanshéithleach dílis,
Traochta, ar leathghlúin, ag friotháilt ar Mhuire,
Ná leáfadh im ina béal
Agus cloigeann na nathrach brúite faoina sáil;
Í ar a barraicíní ar tí a deastógála,
Treasa Avila, ag déanamh a marana,
Thérèse de Lisieux,
Suanmhar sítheach i measc na mbláth;
Proinsias de Sales ag cleachtadh cúirtéise
Vincent de Paul i mbun obair na trócaire.

B’oiriúnaí, déarfá, boladh túise agus an Tantum Ergo
An Pie Jesu agus an Salve Regina
Ná Summertime and the Living is Easy
A raibh sé de dhánaíocht sa Iúdach mná crochadh suas mar finale
Ach in Veni Creator mo chroí caitliceach féin tharla rud éigin:
Mhúscail stáisiúin na croise ina dtableaux
Is bhí an baile beo:
Chaoch Iósaf súil leis an Mhaighdean Mhuire
Thuirling cumhracht Lisieux ar an slua
Leathnaigh drithlíní áthais ó Avila
Is bhain guth na mná macalla as sléibhte, gleannta is mánna
Siar amach go Cathair an Iomchúisimh i gCarcasonne;
Agus bhí sé ina mhaidin Chásca
Bhí baint an fhéir sa spéir le héirí gréine
Sa cheol a raid sí leis an mbith
Agus d’fhógair coiligh an bhaile i gcór le chéile:
‘Mac na hÓighe slán! Mac na hÓige slán!
Ag guth ainglí Judith Mok
Ag athghabháil ceol draíochta na dtroubadour
Maidin Domhnaigh Fómhair i Languedoc.

On hearing Judith Mok sing, in the Chapel of the Virgin, at the opening of the La Muse art exhibition, in Languedoc.

The door creaked when the mayor turned the key
As though objecting to this crowd of culture vultures
Disturbing the peace
Of the chapel of the Virgin fallen from grace
For an Opera Prima Donna on holidays to take over the alter
As though she were going on stage.

We lit candles just for atmosphere and crowded in
To sing the praises of the artwork
While the old statue of Our Lady of Sorrows looked more sorrowful still.

You couldn’t but notice the Stations of the Cross
The big sad eyes,
The dramatic, imploring gestures
That could once soften this heart of stone
Sending up sighs as you made your way through the valley of tears.

All the supporting cast were there:
Faithful Joseph central to the show:
There he was exhausted on bended knee tending to Mary
You’d swear butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth,
As she crushed the serpent under her heal,
On her tippy toes ready to be assumed into heaven.
Teresa of Avila in the background, transfixed in ecstasy
Thérèse of Lisieux, tranquillity itself tiptoeing through the tulips.
Francis de Sales all kindness and courtesy
Vincent de Paul all corporal works of mercy.

You’d have thought that the smell of incense and the sound of the Tantum Ergo and the Salve Regina,
Were more appropriate to the setting that Madame Mok’s choice of
Summertime and the living is easy as finale.

And yet, in the Veni Creator of my own catholic heart something happened:
And the stations of the Cross all came to life.
Joseph winked at the Virgin Mary,
The fragrance of Lisieux decended on us
And we tripped along with Teresa of Avila.
As the voice of the Prima Donna rolled down through the hills and valleys
To the city of the inquisition in Carcassone
And ’twas Easter morning;
The sun danced in the sky,
As choirs of starlings proclaimed resurrection,
On hearing the voice of Judith Mok
Echoing the local troubadours
On a sunny Sunday morning in Languedoc.