Jackie Kay in the current Makar, the Scottish National Poet. She lives in England, and has an MBE. She is coming up on her third year of a five-year Makar term. I don’t think she’s very good. This is an opinion you won’t hear voiced in public, for obvious (t)reasons: she's gay, black, a woman. These groups are beyond reproach for some. Not for me. True egalitarianism means that nobody should be beyond criticism. Personally, I am only bothered aboot whether a poet/writer can lay down a line or not. And I don’t think Ms. Kay can, mostly. In my own personal opinion, she is mediocre at best.
I am going to take apart a work (I almost hesitate to call it a poem) of hers and explain why I don't like her words. The work is called Threshold, and it was her first commission as Makar. She read it out in front of the gold-piano-flaunting queen, Phil the Greek, and the Scottish government, at Holyrood on July 2nd, 2016. It’s horrendous. Ms. Kay reads the work in a mostly flat monotone, with no flow or rhythm or pace or bounce. She stops. And starts. And stops. And starts. You can watch it below. I defy anybody to watch it and tell me I am wrong. Then read my own inexpert dissection, and feel free to tell me if I got it right, or not.
THRESHOLD
Let's blether some more about doors.
This is a terrible
start. Who has been blethering aboot doors before this? ‘Blether’ basically means to talk light-heartedly or
non-seriously. It can also mean talking rubbish. For the opening of the
Scottish Parliament, it lacks weight and gravitas, undermining its intent right
from the start. The poem instantly shoots itself in the foot with the use of this word, limping along and invalidating pretty much everything that comes after it.
Revolving doors and sliding doors;
Half-opened, half-closed:
The door with your name on it,
Who is this addressed to? The listener? Revolving doors and sliding doors just seem to be mentioned because, well, they’re doors. Is Kay talking aboot herself? What door with a name on it? Is it the one from the start of the next couplet?
The heavy one - hard to open.
The one you walked out when your heart was broken,
OK, so…what? Is this Kay whose heart is broken? Is the listener’s heart broken? What do broken hearts have to do with Holyrood? (Don’t answer that) Is the listener meant to impose their own subjective, mercurial meaning on these lines? Or indeed on half the poem?
The one you walked in as you came to your profession
(And the tiny door when you made your confession)
Revolving doors and sliding doors;
Half-opened, half-closed:
The door with your name on it,
Who is this addressed to? The listener? Revolving doors and sliding doors just seem to be mentioned because, well, they’re doors. Is Kay talking aboot herself? What door with a name on it? Is it the one from the start of the next couplet?
The heavy one - hard to open.
The one you walked out when your heart was broken,
OK, so…what? Is this Kay whose heart is broken? Is the listener’s heart broken? What do broken hearts have to do with Holyrood? (Don’t answer that) Is the listener meant to impose their own subjective, mercurial meaning on these lines? Or indeed on half the poem?
The one you walked in as you came to your profession
(And the tiny door when you made your confession)
Profession rhymes with confession. Shrug. But I
am not getting any sense of coherence here. I better not start looking for one,
either, because it never comes. What profession, and door symbolic of one? Why is she talking aboot a Catholic taking confession? What is this
stuff? Is she trying to represent different Scots of all religions and
professions and such? What is going on
here?
The school door at the end of a lesson,
(Yes, Shut the door in Gaelic is "duin an doras!")
The school door at the end of a lesson,
(Yes, Shut the door in Gaelic is "duin an doras!")
Christ, watching this in the video makes me cringe. She
transitions grindingly from talking aboot a school door…to the way to say "shut
the door" in Gaelic. Is she talking aboot shutting the school door? Why does
she suddenly come up with this random fact? It’s like she forgot to put in some
piece of a never-cohering puzzle earlier, and just randomly threw it in here.
It almost reads as if somebody had asked her if that was the correct way to ask
that Gaelic phrase, and she is answering in the affirmative in the passing.
This does not fit in with anything that has gone before, which fits the
non-sequitur, oblique aspect of the previous text anyway. Heartbreak, career, religion,
school, Gaelic. What connects any of these things but a mention of doors? What are
we meant to be taking from this? The importance of portals? Their ubiquity?
The wee door on your doll's house, or
Ibsen's Nora's door, or Chekhov's Three Sisters
Doors imagined by writers the world over - Proust.
And the chickens coming home to roost!
Or Chris Guthrie's open heart at the end of Sunset Song
The wee door on your doll's house, or
Ibsen's Nora's door, or Chekhov's Three Sisters
Doors imagined by writers the world over - Proust.
And the chickens coming home to roost!
Or Chris Guthrie's open heart at the end of Sunset Song
So here we get a random flurry of literary
references for no clear reason, except for Ms. Kay to seemingly grandstand what
she has read. Very few people will get (or care aboot) the references, which
goes against the communal nature of the event she is reading at. She
mentions A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen, which made me feel all sharp and smart
and literary for recognising it. What do Chekhov’s Three Sisters have to do
with doors? What does Proust? This is all meaningless, rendered so by complete
lack of context. Ms. Kay rhymes ‘Proust’
and ‘roost.’ I don’t know what chickens she is referring to, or what this has
to do with doors, but it makes me cringe every time I see/read it. Terrible. Then
she is referencing Sunset Song, and we take that the main character’s heart is…an
open door. Making the symbolic literal after talking aboot literal doors. An
odd leap. Doesn’t work as poetry, mind you, just seems clumsy. Like this
dissection.
Or the step left when the horse is gone, the haw.
Eh…whit??!! This makes no sense whatsoever. We have jumped from literature, after jumping from literal doors, to…well…I have no idea whatsoever what this line means. What does a ‘step left’ when a ‘horse is gone’(?) have to do with doors? Is a haw a step on a door? What does a horse have to do with anything? Once again, it just seems like Ms. Kay is free-associating here, and what comes out is meaningless dross that has no context or place in the finished work. It might mean something to her, but the listener is left clueless.
The door to the stable, bolted after the horse left,
Not Tam O'Shanter's tail-less horse!
Or the step left when the horse is gone, the haw.
Eh…whit??!! This makes no sense whatsoever. We have jumped from literature, after jumping from literal doors, to…well…I have no idea whatsoever what this line means. What does a ‘step left’ when a ‘horse is gone’(?) have to do with doors? Is a haw a step on a door? What does a horse have to do with anything? Once again, it just seems like Ms. Kay is free-associating here, and what comes out is meaningless dross that has no context or place in the finished work. It might mean something to her, but the listener is left clueless.
The door to the stable, bolted after the horse left,
Not Tam O'Shanter's tail-less horse!
Another door. On a stable. Hmm. Quite fascinating.
But it’s nothing to do with Rabbie Burns’s nag. Which is comforting to know.
And quite confusing, too. From literal to poetic to random seeming
free-association to poetic. Again, Aye, awright doll, nae bother.
The one that shut violently behind you
Banged by a sudden wind,
The one that shut violently behind you
Banged by a sudden wind,
And? You truly can feel the poet toiling
here, coming up with doors, or associations with doors, that may or may not
have meaning, but she certainly can’t communicate them outside of her own head.
What sudden wind? What does a sudden wind slamming a random door have to do with anything, with the
greater whole, with adding to the force and weight and heft of an ongoing piece
of ostensible poetry?
The painted red door, code for asylum seeker,
The X that says Plague or Passover
The painted red door, code for asylum seeker,
The X that says Plague or Passover
Ah. Now Ms. Kay is starting to get historical and
Biblical and political. Here comes the international part, as befitting an event
like the opening of the Scottish Parliament. Better late than never.
The one turned into a boat to cross the ever-widening waters.
The North Sea and the Aegean, reminders
Of the people cleared off their land, out their crofts
To whom the sea was their threshold - on, off.
The one turned into a boat to cross the ever-widening waters.
The North Sea and the Aegean, reminders
Of the people cleared off their land, out their crofts
To whom the sea was their threshold - on, off.
Ms. Kay here is comparing and contrasting Scots
cleared from their land by the Highland Clearances with contemporary refugees…I
think. It’s clumsy. She should have mentioned the Aegean (nothing to do with
the Highland Clearances) first and the North Sea second, because that would
have segued more seamlessly into the next lines aboot Scottish seafarers and
displaced people.
Take the big key and open the door to the living, breathing past
The one you enliven over and over,
Whit??
To the ship's port, the house of the welder;
To the library door of Donald Dewar.
Take the big key and open the door to the living, breathing past
The one you enliven over and over,
Whit??
To the ship's port, the house of the welder;
To the library door of Donald Dewar.
OK, so now we’re back in Scotland again, after
being in the Aegean a second ago. This really does just randomly pinball all
over the place without rhyme nor reason. It’s ludicrous, ill-conceived and
ill-executed.
Then picture yourself on the threshold,
The exact moment when you might begin again,
Who might begin again? The listener, the poet, or the politicians assembled in Holyrood? After all, we just had a mention of Donald Dewar, the first First Minister of Scotland. Begin what again? Is this a reference to the opening of Parliament? To random existential new beginnings in the listening audience, away from the Parliament? Who is this addressed to? Everybody? Nobody? Somebody? Mebody? Youbody? That is never solved.
A new sitting, new keys jingle possibilities.
Hope comes with a tiny Greyfriar's Bobby key ring.
Oh wait, she's addressing the politicians here, sorry, forget the last paragraph. Cannae be bothered going back and editing it out. But eh…why does hope come with a Greyfriar’s Bobby key ring? What does a dead dog have to do with Holyrood? A symbol of loyalty to the dead? Or of kitsch tourist trap crap sold in Edinburgh? And would Holyrood even have old-fashioned keys to get into the place, versus a plastic swipecard or something?
Then come through the door to this Parliament, new session!
Pass round the revolving doors (change in the revolutions,
In 360 degrees) - Take in the mirrored opposites:
Then picture yourself on the threshold,
The exact moment when you might begin again,
Who might begin again? The listener, the poet, or the politicians assembled in Holyrood? After all, we just had a mention of Donald Dewar, the first First Minister of Scotland. Begin what again? Is this a reference to the opening of Parliament? To random existential new beginnings in the listening audience, away from the Parliament? Who is this addressed to? Everybody? Nobody? Somebody? Mebody? Youbody? That is never solved.
A new sitting, new keys jingle possibilities.
Hope comes with a tiny Greyfriar's Bobby key ring.
Oh wait, she's addressing the politicians here, sorry, forget the last paragraph. Cannae be bothered going back and editing it out. But eh…why does hope come with a Greyfriar’s Bobby key ring? What does a dead dog have to do with Holyrood? A symbol of loyalty to the dead? Or of kitsch tourist trap crap sold in Edinburgh? And would Holyrood even have old-fashioned keys to get into the place, versus a plastic swipecard or something?
Then come through the door to this Parliament, new session!
Pass round the revolving doors (change in the revolutions,
In 360 degrees) - Take in the mirrored opposites:
‘...change in the revolutions.’ Is this some sort
of pun on political revolutions? To what end? Oblique historical reference?
Random gibberish? Know which one my money’s on. I have never heard of anybody
pass round a door in my life. You go through doors, revolving or not.
The Dutch gables, the cross gables…
Admiring the Holyrood décor. Lovely.
Here - rising out of the sloping base of Arthur's Seat
Straight into a city, a city that must also speak
For the banks and the braes, Munros, cairns, bothies
Songs, art, poems, art, stories,
Here - rising out of the sloping base of Arthur's Seat
Straight into a city, a city that must also speak
For the banks and the braes, Munros, cairns, bothies
Songs, art, poems, art, stories,
We have a random shift here from scenery to art
(and a clumsy repetition of the word ‘art’ twice in one line, for no clear
reason). And why not? It all needs spoken for by Edinburgh, apparently.
(And don't forget the ceilidhs - who doesnae love a ceilidh? Heuch!)
When she says “Heuch!” in the video…I cringe until my central nervous system collapses. When she says things like “’don’t forget the ceilidhs,’ it is like she is reminding herself to put in something aboot dancing, making a mental note to herself, and putting in some words as a place marker….that she forgets to take out at a later date. This poem really does come across as something slapdash, thrown together haphazardly, randomly, unfinished, non-sequitur, stupid-but-wanting-to-be-clever, parochial-cum-confused-internationalist.
A city that remembers the fiddlers of Shetland and Orkney
The folk of Colonsay, Bute, and Tiree
The Inner and Outer Hebrides, the glens and the bens
The trees and the rivers and the burns and the lochs and the sea lochs
(And Nessie!)
The Granite City and Dumfries and Galloway
The Dear Green Place and Dundee…
(And don't forget the ceilidhs - who doesnae love a ceilidh? Heuch!)
When she says “Heuch!” in the video…I cringe until my central nervous system collapses. When she says things like “’don’t forget the ceilidhs,’ it is like she is reminding herself to put in something aboot dancing, making a mental note to herself, and putting in some words as a place marker….that she forgets to take out at a later date. This poem really does come across as something slapdash, thrown together haphazardly, randomly, unfinished, non-sequitur, stupid-but-wanting-to-be-clever, parochial-cum-confused-internationalist.
A city that remembers the fiddlers of Shetland and Orkney
The folk of Colonsay, Bute, and Tiree
The Inner and Outer Hebrides, the glens and the bens
The trees and the rivers and the burns and the lochs and the sea lochs
(And Nessie!)
The Granite City and Dumfries and Galloway
The Dear Green Place and Dundee…
Ms. Kay seems to have totally forgotten aboot
doors, the ostensible main theme and thread of the poem. Never mind. Least Nessie
gets a look in. Heuch! Crivvens, jings, help ma boab!
Across the stars and the galaxy,
The night sky's tiny keys, the hail clanjamfarie!
Across the stars and the galaxy,
The night sky's tiny keys, the hail clanjamfarie!
‘Clanjamfarie’ is a nice word. I often find
that Ms. Kay throws in random Scottish words completely out of context,
seemingly to show that she knows them. It’s bizarre, quite frankly. To wit: the
word means ‘a disorderly rabble’ or ‘collection of worthless items.’ She is – I
think – calling the night sky chaotic…for some reason. Don’t think she means to
imply that the stars and sky are useless. No idea what ‘tiny keys’ she is
referring to, but it sort of applies to doors, I suppose. Best not to ask too
many questions.
Find here what you are looking for:
Democracy in its infancy: guard her
Like you would a small daughter
Sexist. Why does it have to be a daughter,
excluding half the population? Oh, that’s right, the future, like large fawning
sections of the Scottish government and poetry scene, is female, I forgot,
sorry. Forgive my male ignorance. I will just stand in a corner quietly and try
to forget my accursed genetic inheritance and dangly bit in my troosers. (Chuckling here) Ms. Kay actually
has a biological son. Why didn’t she say ‘like you would a small child’? Guess her
offspring doesn’t count, is not representative of democracy. Wrong sex. Nae
luck, wee man!
And keep the door wide open, not just ajar,
You born in a barn, bird? Chuckling. “Shut that door!” to quote the poetic Larry Grayson. But I get it, she’s saying anybody who wants to come to Scotland can. Which actually befits the occasion somewhat. Wonders will never cease.
And say, in any language you please,
Welcome, welcome to the world's refugees.
Another one of Ms. Kay’s horrible, teeth-grindingly inept, ultra-obvious rhymes. Everything she writes has one or two of these rhymes in it, which are pretty much on a primary three level.
Scotland's changing faces - look at me!!
Whose birth mother walked through the door
Of a mother and baby home here
And walked out of Elsie Inglis hospital without me.
My Makar, her daughter, Makar
Of Ferlie Leed and gallus tongues.
She just compared herself to a refugee, because of the difference in her skin colour to the average Scot in years gone past. But she was born and bred in Scotland. Guess some people feel they never fit. Got to love ‘Of Ferlie Leed and gallus tongues.’ ‘Ferlie Leed’ means, according to Ms. Kay, ‘wondrous talk’ and, of course, ‘gallus’ means ‘great.’ Nothing like a bit of self-backslapping self-aggrandising in the text: “I’m great! Look at me!”
And keep the door wide open, not just ajar,
You born in a barn, bird? Chuckling. “Shut that door!” to quote the poetic Larry Grayson. But I get it, she’s saying anybody who wants to come to Scotland can. Which actually befits the occasion somewhat. Wonders will never cease.
And say, in any language you please,
Welcome, welcome to the world's refugees.
Another one of Ms. Kay’s horrible, teeth-grindingly inept, ultra-obvious rhymes. Everything she writes has one or two of these rhymes in it, which are pretty much on a primary three level.
Scotland's changing faces - look at me!!
Whose birth mother walked through the door
Of a mother and baby home here
And walked out of Elsie Inglis hospital without me.
My Makar, her daughter, Makar
Of Ferlie Leed and gallus tongues.
She just compared herself to a refugee, because of the difference in her skin colour to the average Scot in years gone past. But she was born and bred in Scotland. Guess some people feel they never fit. Got to love ‘Of Ferlie Leed and gallus tongues.’ ‘Ferlie Leed’ means, according to Ms. Kay, ‘wondrous talk’ and, of course, ‘gallus’ means ‘great.’ Nothing like a bit of self-backslapping self-aggrandising in the text: “I’m great! Look at me!”
And this is my country says the fisherwoman from Jura.
Mine too says the child from Canna and Iona.
Mine too say the Brain family.
And mine! Says the man from the Polish deli
And mine said the brave and beautiful Asid Shah.
The Brain family are an Australian family who were ordered to leave Scotland by the UK government. Asid Shah was murdered in a Muslim-on-Muslim religious extremist dispute. So OK, we get the ‘all colours and creeds’ bit here.
Me too said the black Scots and the red Scots
What the HOLY FUCK is a ‘red Scot’? I have
never in my life heard anybody referred to as such! Never! It’s like calling Native American Indians ‘Red Indians’! Jesus!
Said William Wallace and Mary Queen of Scots.
Said both the Roberts and Muriel Spark.
Said Emile Sande and Arthur Wharton.
Said William Wallace and Mary Queen of Scots.
Said both the Roberts and Muriel Spark.
Said Emile Sande and Arthur Wharton.
I have no idea who ‘both the Roberts’ are; would guess one would be Robert the Bruce. Who would the other one be? Rab C Nesbitt? Also, Emile
Sande was born in England and Arthur Wharton in Ghana, though I get the
Scottish connections.
Said Ali Smith and Edwin Morgan.
Said Liz Lochhead, Norman and Sorley
And mine said the Syrian refugee.
So we get a random mix of famous people, then throw in a Syrian refugee at the end. Very coherent. Suppose you could argue it reflects the juxtaposition of all nations and races and creeds and colours in modern Scotland, but…let’s face it…nah. And the mention of Norman and Sorley Maclean/MacLean assumes that the average punter would know who these people are. Which is pretty doubtful; it’s an insider artistic reference.
Here we are in this building of pure poetry
On this July morning in front of her majesty.
A patented KCR - Kay Cringe Rhyme™! I think she thinks she’s in the Scottish Poetry Library.
Good Day ma'am, ma'am Good Day.
Good morning John and Helen Kay -
Shout out tae the queen, and to her communist adoptive parents! Nice ironic juxtaposition! Bet the parents loved it! Democratic as fuck ya bas! KCR 2!
Great believers in democracy.
And in gieing it laldy!
KCR 3…sort of. ‘democracy’ and ‘laldy’ is a kind of almost-pararhyme. I always love when she just randomly throws Scottish words in for no clear reason, though. Warms my Saltire-tickled heart cockles.
Said Ali Smith and Edwin Morgan.
Said Liz Lochhead, Norman and Sorley
And mine said the Syrian refugee.
So we get a random mix of famous people, then throw in a Syrian refugee at the end. Very coherent. Suppose you could argue it reflects the juxtaposition of all nations and races and creeds and colours in modern Scotland, but…let’s face it…nah. And the mention of Norman and Sorley Maclean/MacLean assumes that the average punter would know who these people are. Which is pretty doubtful; it’s an insider artistic reference.
Here we are in this building of pure poetry
On this July morning in front of her majesty.
A patented KCR - Kay Cringe Rhyme™! I think she thinks she’s in the Scottish Poetry Library.
Good Day ma'am, ma'am Good Day.
Good morning John and Helen Kay -
Shout out tae the queen, and to her communist adoptive parents! Nice ironic juxtaposition! Bet the parents loved it! Democratic as fuck ya bas! KCR 2!
Great believers in democracy.
And in gieing it laldy!
KCR 3…sort of. ‘democracy’ and ‘laldy’ is a kind of almost-pararhyme. I always love when she just randomly throws Scottish words in for no clear reason, though. Warms my Saltire-tickled heart cockles.
Our strength is our difference.
Dinny fear it. Dinny caw canny.
Jackie seems to have forgotten all aboot doors
again. Easy to do.
It takes more than one language to tell a story:
歡迎 (Cantonese)
One language is never enough
Gbegbɔgblɔ ɖeka sese menyo tututu o (Ewe)
Welcome
Witamy (Polish)
It takes more than one language to tell a story
एक कहानी सुनाने के लिए, एक से अधिक भाषाएं लगती हैं (Hindi)
Welcome
ਜੀ ਆਇਆ ਨੂੰ (Punjabi)
One language is never enough
Une seule langue n'est jamais suffisante (French)
Welcome
Fàilte (Gaelic)
It takes more than one tongue to tell a story
It taks mair nor ae tongue tae crack (Doric)
Welcome
مرحبا (Syrian)
Welcome
Nnọọ! (Igbo)
Welcome
Wilkommen (German)
Welcome
Benvenuti (Italian)
It takes more than one language to tell a story
ہانی بتانے کے لئے ایک سے زیادہ زبان لیتا ہے (Urdu)
Lleva màs de un idioma contar una historia,
Bienvenidos
Un idioma nunca es suficiente
Bienvenidos (Spanish)
Eine Geschichte braucht mehr als eine Sprache.
Willkommen
Eine Sprache reicht nicht
Willkommen. (German)
خوش آمدید۔
ایک زبان کبھی کافی نہیں ہوتی۔
Click here to get the most out of your list. (Urdu)
There are more than one language to tell you about a story.
Benvenuto.
Only one language is not enough.
Benvenuto. (Italian) More
than one language is required to tell a story.
Welcome.
A language is never enough.
Welcome. (Catalan)
Ne samo jedan jezik je dovoljno je spricati pricu.
Dobrodošli.
Jedan lijk nikad nije dovoljno.
Dobrodošli. (Serbian)
Щоб розповісти історію потрібно більше, ніж одна мова
Ласкаво просимо
Однієї мови ніколи некульный
Ласкаво просимо (Ukranian)
Több nyelven mondd el a mesét.
Üdvözlégy.
Egy nyelv sosem elég.
Üdvözlégy. (Hungarian)
Ai nevoie de mai mult de o limbă pentru a spune o poveste.
Bun venit.
O singură limbă nu este niciodată de ajuns.
Bun venit. (Romanian)
Nutamk atelk aq newte situm wjit a'tukwaqan.
Pjila'si.
Newte situn mu tepianuk.
Pjila'si.
Det behövs mer än ett språk för att berätta en historia.
Välkomna.
Ett språk räcker aldrig.
Välkomna. (Swedish)
Příběh potřebuje více než jeden jazyk
Vitejte
Nestačí mít jediný jazyk
Vitejte (Czech) Need
more languages to showcase,
Dobredojdovte
One language is never allowed
Dobredojdovte (Macedonian)
It takes more than one language to tell the story
Welcome
One language is never enough
Welcome (Montenegrin)
ஒரு கதை சொல்ல மேற்பட்ட தாய்மொழி எடுக்கும் நல்வரவு ஒரு மொழி போதுமானதாக இருக்காது நல்வரவு (Tamil) more languages is necessary to tell the story Welcome One language is never enough Welcome (Slovene) Ganc héléér tavát moril géh n'hézéé ç hangaltgүj bөgөөd olon héléér өgүүlén яргальный нь елердит пользователь (Mongolian) Mae angen mwy nag un tafod and gyfleu stori Croeso Mae un iaith byth yn ddigon
Croeso (Welsh)
Een taal is nooit genoeg
Welkom
Er is meer dan een taal nodig om een verhaal te vertellen
Welkom (Dutch)
It takes more than one language to tell a story
Bem coming
Uma língua is never enough
Bem vendo (Brazilian Portuguese )
I'm inaccessible to everybody.
Karibu.
Hadithimoja ni kamwe ya kutosha.
Karibu. (Swahili)
More than one language is required to tell a story
Welcome
A language is never enough
Welcome (Galician)
Go tsaá dipuô tse dintsi go bolela polelô,
O amogetswe
Puô ê nnwe ga e nke e lekana,
O amogetswe. (Tswana)
Potrebno je više od jedog jezika kako bi se ispričala priča.
Dobrodošao
Jedan jezik nije dovoljan
Dobrodošao (Croatian)
Dit vat meer as een taal om 'n verhaal te vertel
Welkom
Een taal is nooit genoeg no
Welkom (Africaans)
Tarinan kertomiseen tarvitaan enemmän kuin yksi kieli,
Tervetuloa
Yksi kieli ei ikinä riitä
Tervetuloa (Finnish ) You
need more than one language to tell a story
Hello,
One language is never enough
Hello (
polish ) Der skal mere end et sprog til at fortælle en historie
Velkommen
Et sprog er aldrig nok
Velkommen (Danish)
Нужен е повече от един език, разкаже една се за да история
Добре дошли
Никога e достатъчен не само един език.
Добре дошли (Bulgarian)
يحتاج الأمر أكثر من لغة واحدة لتحكي قصة
مرحبا
لا تكفي لغة واحدة ابدا
مرحبا (Arabic)
It is not enough just a language to confess a story.
Welcome
A language is never enough.
Welcome (New)
Il faut plus qu'une langue pour une histoire raconter
Bienvenue
Une langue n'est jamais assez
Bienvenue (French)
צריך יותר משפה אחת כדי לספר סיפור
ברוך הבא
שפה אחת לעולם אינה די
ברוכה הבאה (Hebrew)
Zimatengera chilankhulo choposa chimodzi the box of ufotokosis nkhani.
Takulandirani.
Chilankhulo Chimodzi Ndi Chosakwanila.
Takulandirani. (Chichewa)
Hizkuntza Bakarra Baino Gehiago Behar Dira Istorio Bat Kontatzeko,
Ongi Etorri
Hizkuntza Bat Inoiz Ez Da Aski
Ongi Etorri. (Basque)
to tell the story you need a multiple languages. welcome. One language is by no means sufficient. Welcome. (Japanese) Butuh Lebih Dari Satu Bahasa Untuk Menceritakan Sebuah Kisah Memakai Satu Bahasa Tidak Pernah Cukup Memakai (Indonesian) Ctoby Rasskazat Istoriu, Nado Bolse Odnogo Azyka Dobro Pozalovat Odnogo Azyka Nikogda Ne Dostatocno Dobro Pozalovat (Russian) Om In Ferhaal Te Fertellen Hast Mear As ien taal noadich,
Wolkom
Ien taal is noait genôch
Wolkom (Frisian)
Dobra Dosli
Jedan jezik nikad nosta
Dobra Dosli (Bosnian)
Benvegut
Una lenga basta pas jamai
Cal mai d'una lenga per contar una istòria
Benvegut (Occitan)
It offers more than one language telling a story
Welcome
One language is never enough
Fàilte (Gaelic)
It takes more than one language to tell a story:
歡迎 (Cantonese)
One language is never enough
Gbegbɔgblɔ ɖeka sese menyo tututu o (Ewe)
Welcome
Witamy (Polish)
It takes more than one language to tell a story
एक कहानी सुनाने के लिए, एक से अधिक भाषाएं लगती हैं (Hindi)
Welcome
ਜੀ ਆਇਆ ਨੂੰ (Punjabi)
One language is never enough
Une seule langue n'est jamais suffisante (French)
Welcome
Fàilte (Gaelic)
It takes more than one tongue to tell a story
It taks mair nor ae tongue tae crack (Doric)
Welcome
مرحبا (Syrian)
Welcome
Nnọọ! (Igbo)
Welcome
Wilkommen (German)
Welcome
Benvenuti (Italian)
It takes more than one language to tell a story
ہانی بتانے کے لئے ایک سے زیادہ زبان لیتا ہے (Urdu)
Lleva màs de un idioma contar una historia,
Bienvenidos
Un idioma nunca es suficiente
Bienvenidos (Spanish)
Eine Geschichte braucht mehr als eine Sprache.
Willkommen
Eine Sprache reicht nicht
Willkommen. (German)
خوش آمدید۔
ایک زبان کبھی کافی نہیں ہوتی۔
Click here to get the most out of your list. (Urdu)
There are more than one language to tell you about a story.
Benvenuto.
Only one language is not enough.
Benvenuto. (Italian) More
than one language is required to tell a story.
Welcome.
A language is never enough.
Welcome. (Catalan)
Ne samo jedan jezik je dovoljno je spricati pricu.
Dobrodošli.
Jedan lijk nikad nije dovoljno.
Dobrodošli. (Serbian)
Щоб розповісти історію потрібно більше, ніж одна мова
Ласкаво просимо
Однієї мови ніколи некульный
Ласкаво просимо (Ukranian)
Több nyelven mondd el a mesét.
Üdvözlégy.
Egy nyelv sosem elég.
Üdvözlégy. (Hungarian)
Ai nevoie de mai mult de o limbă pentru a spune o poveste.
Bun venit.
O singură limbă nu este niciodată de ajuns.
Bun venit. (Romanian)
Nutamk atelk aq newte situm wjit a'tukwaqan.
Pjila'si.
Newte situn mu tepianuk.
Pjila'si.
Det behövs mer än ett språk för att berätta en historia.
Välkomna.
Ett språk räcker aldrig.
Välkomna. (Swedish)
Příběh potřebuje více než jeden jazyk
Vitejte
Nestačí mít jediný jazyk
Vitejte (Czech) Need
more languages to showcase,
Dobredojdovte
One language is never allowed
Dobredojdovte (Macedonian)
It takes more than one language to tell the story
Welcome
One language is never enough
Welcome (Montenegrin)
ஒரு கதை சொல்ல மேற்பட்ட தாய்மொழி எடுக்கும் நல்வரவு ஒரு மொழி போதுமானதாக இருக்காது நல்வரவு (Tamil) more languages is necessary to tell the story Welcome One language is never enough Welcome (Slovene) Ganc héléér tavát moril géh n'hézéé ç hangaltgүj bөgөөd olon héléér өgүүlén яргальный нь елердит пользователь (Mongolian) Mae angen mwy nag un tafod and gyfleu stori Croeso Mae un iaith byth yn ddigon
Croeso (Welsh)
Een taal is nooit genoeg
Welkom
Er is meer dan een taal nodig om een verhaal te vertellen
Welkom (Dutch)
It takes more than one language to tell a story
Bem coming
Uma língua is never enough
Bem vendo (Brazilian Portuguese )
I'm inaccessible to everybody.
Karibu.
Hadithimoja ni kamwe ya kutosha.
Karibu. (Swahili)
More than one language is required to tell a story
Welcome
A language is never enough
Welcome (Galician)
Go tsaá dipuô tse dintsi go bolela polelô,
O amogetswe
Puô ê nnwe ga e nke e lekana,
O amogetswe. (Tswana)
Potrebno je više od jedog jezika kako bi se ispričala priča.
Dobrodošao
Jedan jezik nije dovoljan
Dobrodošao (Croatian)
Dit vat meer as een taal om 'n verhaal te vertel
Welkom
Een taal is nooit genoeg no
Welkom (Africaans)
Tarinan kertomiseen tarvitaan enemmän kuin yksi kieli,
Tervetuloa
Yksi kieli ei ikinä riitä
Tervetuloa (Finnish ) You
need more than one language to tell a story
Hello,
One language is never enough
Hello (
polish ) Der skal mere end et sprog til at fortælle en historie
Velkommen
Et sprog er aldrig nok
Velkommen (Danish)
Нужен е повече от един език, разкаже една се за да история
Добре дошли
Никога e достатъчен не само един език.
Добре дошли (Bulgarian)
يحتاج الأمر أكثر من لغة واحدة لتحكي قصة
مرحبا
لا تكفي لغة واحدة ابدا
مرحبا (Arabic)
It is not enough just a language to confess a story.
Welcome
A language is never enough.
Welcome (New)
Il faut plus qu'une langue pour une histoire raconter
Bienvenue
Une langue n'est jamais assez
Bienvenue (French)
צריך יותר משפה אחת כדי לספר סיפור
ברוך הבא
שפה אחת לעולם אינה די
ברוכה הבאה (Hebrew)
Zimatengera chilankhulo choposa chimodzi the box of ufotokosis nkhani.
Takulandirani.
Chilankhulo Chimodzi Ndi Chosakwanila.
Takulandirani. (Chichewa)
Hizkuntza Bakarra Baino Gehiago Behar Dira Istorio Bat Kontatzeko,
Ongi Etorri
Hizkuntza Bat Inoiz Ez Da Aski
Ongi Etorri. (Basque)
to tell the story you need a multiple languages. welcome. One language is by no means sufficient. Welcome. (Japanese) Butuh Lebih Dari Satu Bahasa Untuk Menceritakan Sebuah Kisah Memakai Satu Bahasa Tidak Pernah Cukup Memakai (Indonesian) Ctoby Rasskazat Istoriu, Nado Bolse Odnogo Azyka Dobro Pozalovat Odnogo Azyka Nikogda Ne Dostatocno Dobro Pozalovat (Russian) Om In Ferhaal Te Fertellen Hast Mear As ien taal noadich,
Wolkom
Ien taal is noait genôch
Wolkom (Frisian)
Dobra Dosli
Jedan jezik nikad nosta
Dobra Dosli (Bosnian)
Benvegut
Una lenga basta pas jamai
Cal mai d'una lenga per contar una istòria
Benvegut (Occitan)
It offers more than one language telling a story
Welcome
One language is never enough
Fàilte (Gaelic)
Here we have some interminable multilingual waffle. They’re not telling a story, as is intimated, they’re just saying "welcome." Towards the end, this bit randomly slides out of its established ‘welcome/never enough/one tongue’ rhythm it establishes at the start. Still, why break an artistic habit, eh?
It's ever so ard to tell a story wiv one langwidge
cummin and av a cuppa
One langwidge ain't nuffink like innuf
cummin and av a cuppa (South West London)
It taks mare than wan type o patter tae tell a yarn.
Mak yersel at hame.
Wan patter is naer enough.
Mak yersel at hame. (Glaswegian)
Welcome.
C'mon ben the living room.
Come join our brilliant gathering.
And that is more or less it. At the end, Ms. Kay forgot
all aboot doors. The first half of the poem is aboot them, then they just quietly
slam shut and slide out of view. You would have to say that this really is
substandard stuff indeed, and hardly worthy of a Makar. Noel Coward’s words to
Mrs. Worthington come to mind. Which will bring us back to DOH!
END
PS: Actually, in thinking aboot this…maybe ‘blether’ at the start is appropriate here, after all.
END
PS: Actually, in thinking aboot this…maybe ‘blether’ at the start is appropriate here, after all.
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