Poetry – Cree Literacy Network: Recent Episodes
None
This well known poem is aspirational and uplifting: a kind of universal guide to being gentle with yourself, even in challenging times. The Latin title, “Desiderata” simply means “things desired”, and may have given the poem a hint of mystique. Originally written by Max Ehrmann in 1927, it probably achieved peak fame in 1971 when it was given a musical accompaniment by Les Crane that includes a full gospel choir (you can find it here on YouTube). Nearly a hundred years after its composition, it still holds a message of peace and power that’s worth carrying close to your heart.
Thanks to Ellen Cook – for whom it is a favourite – for allowing us to share her n-dialect translation, complete with audio. As a meditation, it provides a great opportunity for memorization for adult learners, and it’s a pleasure to add some much-needed n-dialect content to our collection. The text chosen for the “cover image” (photo provided by Solomon Ratt), is the part that forms the chorus of the Les Crane gospel performance. For some of us who remember the 1970s, it’s impossible to hear this poem without belting out “You are a child…”
(In preparing the text to share here, as support for those who might like to consider it in other dialects, we’ve marked the changing N with an acute accent so it’s instantly clear what would become a Y or a TH in y- or th-dialects. These are the most obvious adjustments, but not the only ones.)
Your browser does not support the audio element.
| DESIDERATA (n-dialect, translated by Ellen Cook, 2024) | DESIDERATA (Max Ehrman, 1927) | | --- | --- | | nisihkâc pimohtêk ita ê‑wêstatêwêmakahk mîna papâsińihtamowin ê‑ayâk; | Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, | | kiskisik ê-ihtakok pêyâhtakêńimowin ita ê‑koskwâwâtahk. | and remember what peace there may be in silence. | | ińikohk ê-isi-kaskihtâyêk, êkâ ta‑pakitênimisoyêk, | As far as possible without surrender | | mino‑wîcêwikohk kahkinaw anisininiwak. | be on good terms with all persons. | | tâpwêwinihk isi‑ayamik, papêyâhtak êkwa mîna kwayask, ta‑isi‑nisitohtâkawiyêk. | Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, | | mîna natohtawihkok kotakiyak, ahpô aniki kâ-kakêpâtisicik êkwa aniki nama kêkwan ka‑kiskinohamâkôwisicik; | even to the dull and the ignorant, | | ańîs wîstawâw ayâwak âcimowina. | they too have their story. | | tapasîstawihkok kâ-notinikêskicik mîna kâ-kisîwêcik cikêmâ ta‑pîkwêńihtamihêwak kitahcâhkowâwa. | Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. | | kîspin tâpitênimisowêkwawi kotakiyak anisininiwak, kika‑ati‑kistêńimitisonâwâw mîna ka‑ati-kisîwêńihtênâwâw, | If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; | | mîna mihcêtiwak awasimê kâ‑kistêńihtâkosicik | for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. | | mîna kâ‑apistêńihtâkosicik nawac kîna. | | kistênihtamok anihi kêkwâna kâkî‑pê‑kaskihtâyêk ahpô anihi kâwî-ati-tôtamêk; | Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. | | nâkatawêńihtamok kitatoskêwiniwâw kiyâm ê‑isi‑apistêńihtâkwahk. | Keep interested in your own career, however humble; | | miciminamok sôhki, cikêmâ poko ispî ta‑kî‑ati‑kwêskipańiw ki‑mińopańiwiniwâw. | it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. | | ayâkwâmêńihtamok kitatoskêwiniwâw ańîs misiwêyihtakwan kayêyisîwin; | Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. | | êkâwîńa mâka kâ‑kipwâpiskâkowâw, poko ańîs ta‑wâpahtamêk mińwâtisiwin. | But let not this blind you to what virtue there is; | | mihcêtiwak kâ-atoskâtâhkêk kwayask pimâtisiwin; | many persons strive for high ideals, | | mîna misiwê ihtâwak ô‑mińô‑totâkêwak. | and everywhere life is full of heroism. | | tâpitaw tâpwê‑âtisik. | Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. | | kâwîńa pantaw sâkihiwêhkâsok êkwa mîna tâpwêwakêńihtamok sâkihîwêwin, ańîs sâkihitowin ôma, tâpiskôc kiyâm ê‑pâhkopańik askiy tâpwê poko kâ-kîhtwâm nihtâwikinwa maskosiya | Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. | | mińwêńihtamok ê‑ati‑kêhtêyâtisiyêk, kwayask tâ‑ati‑papakitinamêk anihi kâkî-kistêńihtamêk ispî ê‑oskâtisiyêk. | Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. | | kwayask pamihik mîna maskawisîhik kitahcahkowâw ta‑wîcihikoyêk kîspin âńimisiwin nakiskamêkwâwi; | Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. | | êkawîńa mâka pantaw mikoskatêńihtamok; | But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. | | mihcêt awiyak môskâcihik kîkwańa ôma mêkwâc ê‑ayêskosit mîna ê‑kaskêńihtamêńihtahk. | Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. | | mińo pamihisok kisêwatisiwinihk isi; | Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. | | kîna ańîs kihci kîsiko-awâsis namawîńa nôhtaw ińikohk mistikwak êkwa acâhkosak, kîsta kikaskihtamâson ôta ta‑ayâyan. | You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. | | kîspin mâka êkwa kwayask nisitohtamêkwâwi tânisi ê‑ispańihk, misawâc kâkî-itastamâkawiyêk ta‑ati-ispańiw ôma kipimâtisiwiniwâw. | And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. | | êwako ohci, pêyâhtakêńimok kisê‑manitôhk isi, ê‑isi‑nisitohtawâyek kisê‑manitôw. | Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. | | poko ê-itatoskêyêk mîna ê‑isi‑pakosêńimoyêk, kanawêńihtamok, | And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, | | pêyâhtakêńimowin kitahcakowâhk. | keep peace in your soul. | | kiyâm ê‑ihtakwahk kakwatakêńimowin, mîna kayêyisiwin, mîna nanihkaci-atoskêwin, minêntamok – | With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, | | kiyâpic mińwâsin pimâtisiwin; | it is still a beautiful world. | | tâpitaw kakwê-cîhkêńihtamok. | Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. | | --- Ellen Cook, 2024 | --- Max Ehrmann, 1927 |
On what would have been her 92nd birthday, Arok Wolvengrey and Solomon Ratt both composed haikus in honour of the late Freda Ahenakew. Meanwhile, at Muskeg Lake, her large extended family and many friends will gather later for a feast at the gym, then watch a sneak peak of the documentary that Freda’s granddaughter Tristin has been working on for the last two years. Since I can’t be there this time to join the celebration, I’ll use this post to honour her legacy with poetry in Cree language, and to send love and best wishes to everyone who gathers there to celebrate her living legacy.
From Arok Wolvengrey, a morning haiku, “for nikâwipan” read here by Solomon Ratt:
Your browser does not support the audio element. “takahkihtâkwan,”
nititêyihtên mâna
nêhiyawêwin.
“ᑕᑲᐦᑭᐦᑖᑿᐣ,”
ᓂᑎᑌᔨᐦᑌᐣ ᒫᓇ
ᓀᐦᐃᔭᐍᐏᐣ᙮
“It sounds good to me,”
I always think to myself,
the Cree language.
From Solomon Ratt, in honour of the late Freda Ahenakew on the occasion of her birthday, another:
Your browser does not support the audio element. âhkamîthimotân:
kipîkiskwîwin nipâw
waspâwihtântân.
ᐋᐦᑲᒦᖨᒧᑖᐣ:
ᑭᐲᑭᐢᑹᐏᐣ ᓂᐹᐤ
ᐘᐢᐹᐏᐦᑖᐣᑖᐣ᙮
Let us persevere:
Your language is a-sleeping,
Let us wake it up.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote this poem in 1845, and it came to be known as a poem with something timeless to offer. Over the years, it was taught to thousands if not millions of school children, many of whom memorized it and carried its message for life. That’s so old-school, it’s almost like Cree oral history!
To give context to his translation, Solomon Ratt comments, “What does Longfellow’s poem mean? It is about the power of words. The arrow represents words lashed out at people. They remain unbroken: the damage remains. The song represents words said with kindness. They nurture the soul forever.” Your browser does not support the audio element. akask ikwa nikamon
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(translated: Solomon Ratt, th-dialect)
nikî-pimotahkwân ispimihk isi
askîhk akask pahkisin, tânitî îtokî?
osâm î-kisîkocihk namwâc awiyak
kaskîhtâw kita-pimâpimât kapî.
nikî-sipwîhîn ispimihk isi
askîhk kî-pahkihtin, tânitî îtokî?
awîna mâka kâ-nahâpit nikamon
kita-pimâpahtahk î-ispakotîthik?
mwîstas, mitoni kinwîsk, mistikohk
nimiskawâw akask, kiyâpic misiwîsiw;
ikwa nikamon, nistam ohci isko kisipanohk
kîhtwâm nikî-miskîn nitôtîm otîhk.
ᐊᑲᐢᐠ ᐃᑿ ᓂᑲᒧᐣHenry Wadsworth Longfellow
ᓂᑮ ᐱᒧᑕᐦᒁᐣ ᐃᐢᐱᒥᕽ ᐃᓯ
ᐊᐢᑮᕽ ᐊᑲᐢᐠ ᐸᐦᑭᓯᐣ, ᑖᓂᑏ ᐄᑐᑮ?
ᐅᓵᒼ ᐄ ᑭᓰᑯᒋᕽ ᓇᒹᐨ ᐊᐏᔭᐠ
ᑲᐢᑮᐦᑖᐤ ᑭᑕ ᐱᒫᐱᒫᐟ ᑲᐲ᙮
ᓂᑮ ᓯᐿᐦᐄᐣ ᐃᐢᐱᒥᕽ ᐃᓯ
ᐊᐢᑮᕽ ᑮ ᐸᐦᑭᐦᑎᐣ, ᑖᓂᑏ ᐄᑐᑮ?
ᐊᐑᓇ ᒫᑲ ᑳ ᓇᐦᐋᐱᐟ ᓂᑲᒧᐣ
ᑭᑕ ᐱᒫᐸᐦᑕᕽ ᐄ ᐃᐢᐸᑯᑏᖨᐠ?
ᒱᐢᑕᐢ, ᒥᑐᓂ ᑭᐣᐑᐢᐠ, ᒥᐢᑎᑯᕽ
ᓂᒥᐢᑲᐚᐤ ᐊᑲᐢᐠ, ᑭᔮᐱᐨ ᒥᓯᐑᓯᐤ;
ᐃᑿ ᓂᑲᒧᐣ, ᓂᐢᑕᒼ ᐅᐦᒋ ᐃᐢᑯ ᑭᓯᐸᓄᕽ
ᑮᐦᑤᒼ ᓂᑮ ᒥᐢᑮᐣ ᓂᑑᑏᒼ ᐅᑏᕽ᙮
The Arrow and the Song
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.
It’s always an honour to share the writing of our old friend and fellow language warrior, Billy Joe Laboucan. His profound commitment to real world community issues doesn’t leave him much time to spare, yet he never forgets the importance of language and culture. This poem, he dedicates “to all Indigenous language warriors, you know who you are … and to all ones who are now gone from this physical earth; and, to all the future fluent speakers who will rescue and assume leadership.” Your browser does not support the audio element.
| ta-isi-wanikiskisihk kiskinwahamâkêwin | ᑕ ᐃᓯ ᐘᓂᑭᐢᑭᓯᕽ ᑭᐢᑭᓌᐦᐊᒫᑫᐏᐣ | Education of forgetting; | | --- | --- | --- | | êwako ôhi otôtamowiniwâw; mȃcika… | ᐁᐘᑯ ᐆᐦᐃ ᐅᑑᑕᒧᐏᓂᐚᐤ; ᒫᒋᑲ... | That is their mission; so … | | nikî-wanikiskisitotâson; | ᓂᑮ ᐘᓂᑭᐢᑭᓯᑐᑖᓱᐣ; | I forgot me; | | nikî-wanikiskisin nipîkiskwêwin… | ᓂᑮ ᐘᓂᑭᐢᑭᓯᐣ ᓂᐲᑭᐢᑵᐏᐣ… | I forgot my language… | | âtayôhkêwin êkwa kiskisowin | ᐋᑕᔫᐦᑫᐏᐣ ᐁᑿ ᑭᐢᑭᓱᐏᐣ | Mythology; and remembrance | | ê-oskisîhtâhk itwêwêstamâkêwin, êkota… | ᐁ ᐅᐢᑭᓰᐦᑖᕽ ᐃᑘᐍᐢᑕᒫᑫᐏᐣ, ᐁᑯᑕ… | Recreating interpretation; then … | | nikiskisitotâson; | ᓂᑭᐢᑭᓯᑐᑖᓱᐣ; | I remember me; | | nikiskisin nipîkiskwêwin… | ᓂᑭᐢᑭᓯᐣ ᓂᐲᑭᐢᑵᐏᐣ… | I remember my language … |
Original artwork thanks to Solomon Ratt, who also provided audio.
Your browser does not support the audio element. “pakosîthimowin” ana kâ-mîkwaniwit
“pakosîthimowin” ana kâ-mîkwaniwit
kâ-akosît ahcahkohk
ikwa mosci-nikamow
ikwa nama wîhkâc kipihcîw
ikwa mithohtâkosiw kîstinihk
ikwa îtokî kîstin kisowâhikow
îkâ î-kî-nîpîwihât pithîsîsa
kâ-kîsowâhâthit mihcît awiya
nikî-pîhtawâw ita kâ-kisinâk askiy
ikwa mâmaskâci-kihcikamihk
mâka nama wîhkâc
kîkway ninitotamâk
“ᐸᑯᓰᖨᒧᐏᐣ” ᐊᓇ ᑳᒦᑿᓂᐏᐟ
“ᐸᑯᓰᖨᒧᐏᐣ” ᐊᓇ ᑳ ᒦᑿᓂᐏᐟ
ᑳ ᐊᑯᓰᐟ ᐊᐦᒐᐦᑯᕽ
ᐃᑿ ᒧᐢᒋ ᓂᑲᒧᐤ
ᐃᑿ ᓇᒪ ᐑᐦᑳᐨ ᑭᐱᐦᒌᐤ
ᐃᑿ ᒥᖪᐦᑖᑯᓯᐤ ᑮᐢᑎᓂᕽ
ᐃᑿ ᐄᑐᑮ ᑮᐢᑎᐣ ᑭᓱᐚᐦᐃᑯᐤ
ᐄᑳ ᐄ ᑮ ᓃᐲᐏᐦᐋᐟ ᐱᖩᓰᓴ
ᑳ ᑮᓱᐚᐦᐋᖨᐟ ᒥᐦᒌᐟ ᐊᐏᔭ
ᓂᑮ ᐲᐦᑕᐚᐤ ᐃᑕ ᑳ ᑭᓯᓈᐠ ᐊᐢᑭᐩ
ᐃᑿ ᒫᒪᐢᑳᒋ ᑭᐦᒋᑲᒥᕽ
ᒫᑲ ᓇᒪ ᐑᐦᑳᐨ
ᑮᑿᐩ ᓂᓂᑐᑕᒫᐠ
“Hope” is the thing with feathers
by Emily Dickinson
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.
Loss of a loved one is especially tough this time of year. Bestselling British poet Donna Ashworth shared this poem from her book Loss, that is currently making the rounds on FaceBook, and Solomon Ratt thought it deserved a Cree language treatment. I hope that listening and reading along will help to bring its comfort to those who need it most! Your browser does not support the audio element. ispî mâna
kâ-kakwâtaki-kwîtawîthimat awiyak
tâpiskôc kikiskisiwina
î-kâsisiki
ta-manisikoyan kitoskanihk isko
kiskisi ithikohk kâ-kî-sâkihiskwâw
kiskisi ithikohk kâ-kî-sâkihiskwâw
ikwa ikosi itôtâsow
owîhthowiniwâw
ta-kistîthimacik
sâkihiso
piyakwan kâ-kî-isi-sâkihiskwâw.
iyakwîthow ta-mithwîthihtamwak.
ispî mâna
kâ-kakwâtaki-kwîtawîthimat awiyak
sâkihiso nawac sôhki
ᐃᐢᐲ ᒫᓇ
ᑳ ᑲᒁᑕᑭ ᑹᑕᐑᖨᒪᐟ ᐊᐏᔭᐠ
ᑖᐱᐢᑰᐨ ᑭᑭᐢᑭᓯᐏᓇ
ᐄ ᑳᓯᓯᑭ
ᑕ ᒪᓂᓯᑯᔭᐣ ᑭᑐᐢᑲᓂᕽ ᐃᐢᑯ
ᑭᐢᑭᓯ ᐃᖨᑯᕽ ᑳ ᑮ ᓵᑭᐦᐃᐢᒁᐤ
ᑭᐢᑭᓯ ᐃᖨᑯᕽ ᑳ ᑮ ᓵᑭᐦᐃᐢᒁᐤ
ᐃᑿ ᐃᑯᓯ ᐃᑑᑖᓱ
ᐅᐑᐦᖪᐏᓂᐚᐤ
ᑕ ᑭᐢᑏᖨᒪᒋᐠ
ᓵᑭᐦᐃᓱ
ᐱᔭᑿᐣ ᑳ ᑮ ᐃᓯ ᓵᑭᐦᐃᐢᒁᐤ᙮
ᐃᔭᑹᖪᐤ ᑕ ᒥᙹᖨᐦᑕᒷᐠ᙮
ᐃᐢᐲ ᒫᓇ
ᑳ ᑲᒁᑕᑭ ᑹᑕᐑᖨᒪᐟ ᐊᐏᔭᐠ
ᓵᑭᐦᐃᓱ ᓇᐘᐨ ᓲᐦᑭ
Your browser does not support the audio element. nitâpwîhtîn kâ-isi-tâpwîhtaman
namôtha katâc kîsta piyakwan
kita-isi-tâpwîhtaman
namwâc kika-nanôthacihitin
namwâc mîna kika-kakwî-kaskimitin
piyakwan kita-isi-tâpwîhtaman
namôtha ikosi nîhithaw isîhcikîwin.
ᓂᑖᐿᐦᑏᐣ ᑳ ᐃᓯ ᑖᐿᐦᑕᒪᐣ
ᓇᒨᖬ ᑲᑖᐨ ᑮᐢᑕ ᐱᔭᑿᐣ
ᑭᑕ ᐃᓯ ᑖᐿᐦᑕᒪᐣ
ᓇᒹᐨ ᑭᑲ ᓇᓅᖬᒋᐦᐃᑎᐣ
ᓇᒹᐨ ᒦᓇ ᑭᑲ ᑲᑹ ᑲᐢᑭᒥᑎᐣ
ᐱᔭᑿᐣ ᑭᑕ ᐃᓯ ᑖᐿᐦᑕᒪᐣ
ᓇᒨᖬ ᐃᑯᓯ ᓃᐦᐃᖬᐤ ᐃᓰᐦᒋᑮᐏᐣ᙮
I believe what I believe
You need not believe the same way
I won’t tease you
Nor will I try to convince you
To believe the same way
That is not the Cree way.
Your browser does not support the audio element. kohkominahkîsîs athapihkîw âcathôhkîwina:
kitimâkisiwin, cîhkîthîhtamowin,
nihtâwikiwin, nakataskîwin;
piyak athapiyâpiy nitisîhk itastâw;
mihcît acâhkosak ayâwak athapîhk.
ᑯᐦᑯᒥᓇᐦᑮᓰᐢ ᐊᖬᐱᐦᑮᐤ ᐋᒐᖫᐦᑮᐏᓇ:
ᑭᑎᒫᑭᓯᐏᐣ, ᒌᐦᑮᖩᐦᑕᒧᐏᐣ,
ᓂᐦᑖᐏᑭᐏᐣ, ᓇᑲᑕᐢᑮᐏᐣ;
ᐱᔭᐠ ᐊᖬᐱᔮᐱᐩ ᓂᑎᓰᕽ ᐃᑕᐢᑖᐤ;
ᒥᐦᒌᐟ ᐊᒑᐦᑯᓴᐠ ᐊᔮᐘᐠ ᐊᖬᐲᕽ᙮
Grandmother spider weaves traditional stories:
Sadness, joy,
Birth, death.
One strand she attaches to my navel;
Many stars are on the net.
Congratulations to Jesse Archibald-Barber on the release of his latest volume of poetry in Cree:
acâhkos nikamowini-pîkiskwêwina: nêhiyawi-kîsik âcimowin
The Star Poems: A Cree Sky Narrative
(ISBN :9781778690174)
Click here for ordering details. Here’s what you’ll learn from the publisher (Regina’s Your Nickel’s Worth Press):
Aided by Grandmother Spider, Star Woman discovers the Hole-in-the-Sky, opening a pathway for the Star People to experience the wonder of life on earth. But the world falls into the hands of the Paper People, jeopardizing the sacred harmony between nature and the cosmos. And so Little Spirit, a young boy, must search for meaning and find redemption in the care of Grandmother Moon.
An epic narrative, The Star Poems explores the black hole of colonial history—Residential Schools, the loss of the father, youth suicide—and the vital role of women in reclaiming our traditional knowledge, the teachings that stitch together the fabric of the universe.
The Star Poems creatively engages Cree oral tradition in a new way, connecting Indigenous spirituality and quantum physics to honour and adapt some of our most ancient stories about the origins of life and our place in the universe. Presented in both English and Cree, The Star Poems is a timely contribution to the revitalization of the Cree language—and the fascinating world of star stories.
Here’s a bit of Cree Literacy Network inside scoop:
Much of Jesse’s work on these poems took place in the context of Solomon Ratt’s “Expository Writing in Cree” class at First Nations University (Cree 305) in 2022. Jesse’s creative use of language, and choice of subject matter led him to consult frequently with Sol and with professional star gazer Wilfred Buck in order to jointly develop Cree-language terminology for concepts not covered in existing dictionaries. This is a significant example in itself of creative collaboration in support of language revitalization which we applaud whole-heartedly.
nîso mîskanâsa paskîmona
nohcimihk, ikwa nîtha…
nikî-pimitisahîn anima îkâ mwâsi kâ-pimitisahikâtik,
iyako îsa nikî-nahi-nawasônîn.
ᓃᓱ ᒦᐢᑲᓈᓴ ᐸᐢᑮᒧᓇ
ᓄᐦᒋᒥᕽ, ᐃᑿ ᓃᖬ…
ᓂᑮ ᐱᒥᑎᓴᐦᐄᐣ ᐊᓂᒪ ᐄᑳ ᒹᓯ ᑳ ᐱᒥᑎᓴᐦᐃᑳᑎᐠ,
ᐃᔭᑯ ᐄᓴ ᓂᑮ ᓇᐦᐃ ᓇᐘᓲᓃᐣ᙮
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I…
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.
- Robert Frost, “The Road Less Travelled.” (I had to interpret the last line as “I apparently chose the right one.”)
Sol says this song/poem was inspired by Willie Thresher’s “Old Man Inuit” – in which Willie Thresher interpolates his singing with audio recording of an Inuit Elder speaking Inuktitut. In this recording, Sol departs significantly from the original, providing his own Cree language commentary in response to Thresher’s song. The four images show his new composition verse by verse; the table provides the entire poem/song. (You can find Thrasher’s original on YouTube here.)
| Old Man Cree (Inspired by “Old Man Inuit” by Willie Thrasher) | | --- | | (Chant) | | nitati-kisîthinîwin. | I am getting old. | | namôtha awasimî nikakî-mâcân. | I can no longer hunt. | | namôtha awasimî nikakî-otâpahastimwân. | I can no longer drive a dog team. | | namôtha awasimî ninahâpin | I can no longer see clearly | | ikwa nitati-kipihtân. | And I am going deaf. | | namôtha awasimî nimaskawisân. | I am no longer strong | | ninîstosin. ninîstosin. | I am tired. I am tired. | | (Chant) | | nitati-kisîthinîwin. | I am getting old. | | mistahi kîkway î-mâthipathik nikî-pî-wâh-wâpahtîn: | I have seen many things go bad: | | ithiniwak î-wanihtâcik opîkiskwîwiniwâw; | People losing their language; | | ithiniwak î-wanihtâcik otisîhcikîwiniwâw. | People losing their culture | | kitimâkan. kitimâkan. | It is sad. It is sad. | | (Chant) | | nitati-kisîthinîwin. | I am getting old. | | mistahi kîkway î-mithwâsik | I see many good things: | | nitati-wâpahtîn: | Young people speaking | | osk-âyak î-pîkiskwîcik opîkiskwîwiniwâw; | Their language; | | î-ohpinahkwâw otisîhcikîwiniwâw. | Reviving their culture | | mithwâsin. mithwâsin | It is good. It is good. | | (Chant) | | nitati-kisîthinîwin. | I am getting old. | | kiyâpic âtawîtha | But at least | | nikakî-nikamon; | I can still sing; | | kiyâpic nikakî-âcathôhkân. | I can still tell the old stories. | | ninanâskomon. ninanâskon. | I am grateful. I am grateful. | | (Chant) |
nîpitîhitowak acâhkosak
nîpitîhitowak acâhkosak î-wîcisimômâcik tipiskâwi-pîsimwa.
mihkwatâhk tâstapiskam ta-nîpatîsimot;|
tâstapîwatâhk wacîhpîsimow ispimihk isi-kwâskohtiw;
wâpanatâhk kamâciwisimow kotak kîsikâw î-wâpahtahk;
masinâsowatâhk otakwâhonîsimow;
sîpîwatâhk pimicitahkoskîw î-sîwîpanisimot.
ᓃᐱᑏᐦᐃᑐᐘᐠ ᐊᒑᐦᑯᓴᐠ
ᓃᐱᑏᐦᐃᑐᐘᐠ ᐊᒑᐦᑯᓴᐠ ᐄ ᐑᒋᓯᒨᒫᒋᐠ ᑎᐱᐢᑳᐏ ᐲᓯᒷ᙮
ᒥᐦᑿᑖᕽ ᑖᐢᑕᐱᐢᑲᒼ ᑕ ᓃᐸᑏᓯᒧᐟ;
ᑖᐢᑕᐲᐘᑖᕽ ᐘᒌᐦᐲᓯᒧᐤ ᐃᐢᐱᒥᕽ ᐃᓯ ᒁᐢᑯᐦᑎᐤ;
ᐚᐸᓇᑖᕽ ᑲᒫᒋᐏᓯᒧᐤ ᑯᑕᐠ ᑮᓯᑳᐤ ᐄ ᐚᐸᐦᑕᕽ;
ᒪᓯᓈᓱᐘᑖᕽ ᐅᑕᒁᐦᐅᓃᓯᒧᐤ;
ᓰᐲᐘᑖᕽ ᐱᒥᒋᑕᐦᑯᐢᑮᐤ ᐄ ᓰᐑᐸᓂᓯᒧᐟ᙮
Stars Dance in Line
Stars align themselves dancing with the moon.
Mars does a quick step into line;
Mercury fancy dances a jumps in the air;
Venus says a prayer of thanks for another day;
Jupiter wraps her shawl ready to dance;
Uranus quietly sidesteps in her jingle dress.
Today’s poem is Sol’s response to a call from astronomer Wilfred Buck: “On March 28th, 5 planets & the Moon will be in alignment. Visible just after sunset. This will signify that there will be an Alien Invasion!! They will be here to break into Area 51 and cause chaos & havoc!!! It might mess up your star link!!! Be prepared!!! lol…”In his effort to be prepared, Sol not only wrote the poem, he used “HI” (human intelligence, as opposed to AI) to “prepare” his pre-existing night sky photo to show the alignment we all might hope to see (if it’s not too cold to be out, or if we’re not all hiding from aliens.)
The first print copies of Solomon Ratt’s new kâ-pî-isi-kiskisiyân /The Way I Remember reached him yesterday by courier. And while I know my own copy is in the mail along with dozens of pre-orders, I’m still a little anxious to see it for myself. While we’re waiting, it seems only appropriate that Sol has written a few words of his own in announcement, that reflect the emotional demands of the project, and its rewards, as well as the healing we both hope it brings to others. (If you’d like ordering instructions, you can find them here).
ôma kâ-pî-isi-kiskisiyân
kika-pîhtînâwâw niwîsakakahpinîwin
ispî kâ-kî-pîkopitikawiyân
ninîkihikwak ohci,
nitaskîhk ohci,
nitâcathôhkîwinihk ohci,
ninîhithawâtisiwinihk ohci.
mâka kikakî-pîhtînâwâw mîna
ninanâtawihisowin
nitâcimisowinihk,
nimasinahikîwinihk,
nimâmitonîthihcikîwinihk,
ikwa nitâcathôhkîwinihk.
ᐆᒪ ᑳ ᐲ ᐃᓯ ᑭᐢᑭᓯᔮᐣ
ᑭᑲ ᐲᐦᑏᓈᐚᐤ ᓂᐑᓴᑲᑲᐦᐱᓃᐏᐣ
ᐃᐢᐲ ᑳ ᑮ ᐲᑯᐱᑎᑲᐏᔮᐣ
ᓂᓃᑭᐦᐃᑿᐠ ᐅᐦᒋ,
ᓂᑕᐢᑮᕽ ᐅᐦᒋ,
ᓂᑖᒐᖫᐦᑮᐏᓂᕽ ᐅᐦᒋ,
ᓂᓃᐦᐃᖬᐚᑎᓯᐏᓂᕽ ᐅᐦᒋ᙮
ᒫᑲ ᑭᑲᑮ ᐲᐦᑏᓈᐚᐤ ᒦᓇ
ᓂᓇᓈᑕᐏᐦᐃᓱᐏᐣ
ᓂᑖᒋᒥᓱᐏᓂᕽ,
ᓂᒪᓯᓇᐦᐃᑮᐏᓂᕽ,
ᓂᒫᒥᑐᓃᖨᐦᒋᑮᐏᓂᕽ,
ᐃᑿ ᓂᑖᒐᖫᐦᑮᐏᓂᕽ᙮
This The way I Remember
you can hear my trauma
From being torn
From my parents,
From my land,
From my traditional stories,
From my Cree essence.
But you can also hear
My self healing
In my stories about my life,
In my writing,
In my reminiscences,
In my telling of traditional stories.
| Carriers of the Dream Wheel | kâ-tâhkonahkik wâsakâpayîs pakosêyimowin | ᑳ ᑖᐦᑯᓇᐦᑭᐠ ᐚᓴᑳᐸᔩᐢ ᐸᑯᓭᔨᒧᐏᐣ | | --- | --- | --- | | N. Scott Momaday | (Translated by Salamô) | (translated by ᓴᓬᐊᒨ) | | This is the Wheel of Dreams | êwako ôma wâsakâpayîs pakosêyimowin | ᐁᐘᑯ ᐆᒪ ᐚᓴᑳᐸᔩᐢ ᐸᑯᓭᔨᒧᐏᐣ | | Which is carried on their voices, | kâ-pimipayik pîkiskwêwinihk | ᑳ ᐱᒥᐸᔨᐠ ᐲᑭᐢᑵᐏᓂᕽ | | By means of which their voices turn | êkota ohci mêskocipayin | ᐁᑯᑕ ᐅᐦᒋ ᒣᐢᑯᒋᐸᔨᐣ | | And center upon being. | pîkiskwêwin ta-astêk tâwâyihk ihtâwinihk. | ᐲᑭᐢᑵᐏᐣ ᑕ ᐊᐢᑌᐠ ᑖᐚᔨᕽ ᐃᐦᑖᐏᓂᕽ᙮ | | It encircles the First World, | wâsakâpayîs wâskâskam nistam askiy, | ᐚᓴᑳᐸᔩᐢ ᐚᐢᑳᐢᑲᒼ ᓂᐢᑕᒼ ᐊᐢᑭᐩ, | | This powerful wheel. | sôhkan ôma. | ᓲᐦᑲᐣ, | | They shape their songs upon the wheel | osîhtâwak nikamona wâsakâpayîsihk | ᐅᓰᐦᑖᐘᐠ ᓂᑲᒧᓇ ᐚᓴᑳᐸᔩᓯᕽ | | And spin the names of the earth and sky, | êkwa apihkwâtamwak owîhowiniwâwa askiy mîna kîsik, | ᐁᑿ ᐊᐱᐦᒁᑕᒷᐠ ᐅᐑᐦᐅᐏᓂᐚᐘ ᐊᐢᑭᐩ ᒦᓇ ᑮᓯᐠ, | | The aboriginal names. | iyiniw-wîhowina. | ᐃᔨᓂᐤ ᐑᐦᐅᐏᓇ᙮ | | They are old men, or men | kisêyiniwak ôki, ahpô kisêyiniwak | ᑭᓭᔨᓂᐘᐠ ᐆᑭ, ᐊᐦᐴ ᑭᓭᔨᓂᐘᐠ | | Who are old in their voices, | ê-kayâs-âyiwiyiki opîkiskwêwiniwâwa, | ᐁ ᑲᔮᓵᔨᐏᔨᑭ ᐅᐲᑭᐢᑵᐏᓂᐚᐘ, | | And they carry the wheel among camps, | êkwa tâh-tahkonamwak wâskâpayîs nanâtohk isi kapêsiwinihk | ᐁᑿ ᑖᐦ ᑕᐦᑯᓇᒷᐠ ᐚᐢᑳᐸᔩᐢ ᓇᓈᑐᕽ ᐃᓯ ᑲᐯᓯᐏᓂᕽ | | Saying: Come, come, | ê-itwêcik: âstamik, âstamik, | ᐁ ᐃᑘᒋᐠ: ᐋᐢᑕᒥᐠ, ᐋᐢᑕᒥᐠ, | | Let us tell the old stories, | âtayôhkêtân, | ᐋᑕᔫᐦᑫᑖᐣ, | | Let us sing the sacred songs. | nikamotân kihci-nikamona. | ᓂᑲᒧᑖᐣ ᑭᐦᒋ ᓂᑲᒧᓇ᙮ |
| katawasisiwin | ᑲᑕᐘᓯᓯᐏᐣ | Beauty | | --- | --- | --- | | ka-pimohtêyan nipimohtân: | ᑲ ᐱᒧᐦᑌᔭᐣ ᓂᐱᒧᐦᑖᐣ: | As I walk I walk: | | katawasisiwin ninîkânihk | ᑲᑕᐘᓯᓯᐏᐣ ᓂᓃᑳᓂᕽ | Beauty ahead | | katawasisiwin nitotânihk | ᑲᑕᐘᓯᓯᐏᐣ ᓂᑐᑖᓂᕽ | Beauty behind | | katawasisiwin ninamahcîhk | ᑲᑕᐘᓯᓯᐏᐣ ᓂᓇᒪᐦᒌᕽ | Beauty to the left | | katawasisiwin nikihciniskêhk | ᑲᑕᐘᓯᓯᐏᐣ ᓂᑭᐦᒋᓂᐢᑫᕽ | Beauty to the right | | katawasisiwin ispimihk | ᑲᑕᐘᓯᓯᐏᐣ ᐃᐢᐱᒥᕽ | Beauty above | | katawasisiwin nîhc-âyihk | ᑲᑕᐘᓯᓯᐏᐣ ᓃᐦᒑᔨᕽ | Beauty below | | katawasisiwin niwâskâskâkon | ᑲᑕᐘᓯᓯᐏᐣ ᓂᐚᐢᑳᐢᑳᑯᐣ | Beauty all around me | | katawasisiwinihk nipimohtân. | ᑲᑕᐘᓯᓯᐏᓂᕽ ᓂᐱᒧᐦᑖᐣ᙮ | In beauty I walk. | | (Adapted from the Navajo) |
Solomon Ratt has been reflecting a lot lately on his upcoming retirement, and the birthday that’s a little speed bump en route. On this anniversary of his arrival in that “Little Hospital” on the trapline in 1953, we’ve assembled a few readings of this new little poem, to wish him all the best in this […]
Thanks to Wayne Jackson for more individual acts of language reclamation than we can count. This one is translation into Cree of Rita Joe’s powerful poem in which she aspires to reclamation for herself. For Cree residential school survivors, Wayne suggests replacing the name Shubenacadie with that of the school they attended. For the audio […]
ikosi mâka, kâwitha nânitaw itîthihta: misawâc kiwâpimitinân acâhkosihk ohci, kiwîcisimômitinân wâwâhtihk; kitâcimowstâtinân ispî kâ-thôtihk, kinikamostâtinân pimiciwanihk, kiwîcîwitinân ispî kâ-pimohtîyan askîhk. ᐃᑯᓯ ᒫᑲ, ᑳᐏᖬ ᓈᓂᑕᐤ ᐃᑏᖨᐦᑕ: ᒥᓴᐚᐨ ᑭᐚᐱᒥᑎᓈᐣ ᐊᒑᐦᑯᓯᕽ ᐅᐦᒋ, ᑭᐑᒋᓯᒨᒥᑎᓈᐣ ᐚᐚᐦᑎᕽ; ᑭᑖᒋᒧᐢᑖᑎᓈᐣ ᐃᐢᐲ ᑳ ᖫᑎᕽ, ᑭᓂᑲᒧᐢᑖᑎᓈᐣ ᐱᒥᒋᐘᓂᕽ, ᑭᐑᒌᐏᑎᓈᐣ ᐃᐢᐲ ᑳ ᐱᒧᐦᑏᔭᐣ ᐊᐢᑮᕽ᙮ That’s it then, think nothing of it: In any case we see you from the […]
sîkwan! ati-tihkisow kôna, misiwî ita wâwâwipîyâw. kônâpoy pimiciwan, pimâpotîwa miscikosa: nicôcisis pâwiscikosihk wâhthaw mâhtâw-askîhk î-isi-pimâpotîk. ᓰᑿᐣ! ᐊᑎ ᑎᐦᑭᓱᐤ ᑰᓇ, ᒥᓯᐑ ᐃᑕ ᐚᐚᐏᐲᔮᐤ᙮ ᑰᓈᐳᐩ ᐱᒥᒋᐘᐣ, ᐱᒫᐳᑏᐘ ᒥᐢᒋᑯᓴ: ᓂᒎᒋᓯᐢ ᐹᐏᐢᒋᑯᓯᕽ ᐚᐦᖬᐤ ᒫᐦᑖᐘᐢᑮᕽ ᐄ ᐃᓯ ᐱᒫᐳᑏᐠ᙮ Spring! Snow begins to melt, puddles everywhere. Snow water flows, little sticks ride the current: My little canoe riding the small rapids To far […]
tâpika âcathôhkîwina ta-kî-pî-kîwîmakahki kâwi mihtotihk pîtohtîw wîsahkîcâhk, wîsahkîcâhk kâwi mihtotihk pîtohtî. nitayamihcikîwin kakîpiskam nikiskinwahamâkosiwin; nipîkiskwîwin, ninîhithawâtisiwin, nayîhtâwihikow âkathâsîmowin. kâwi mihtotihk pîtohtîw wîsahkîcâhk, wîsahkîcâhk kâwi mihtotihk pîtohtî kâ-matwî-camohkahahk nipiy amisk osoy ohci. ᑖᐱᑲ ᐋᒐᖫᐦᑮᐏᓇ ᑕ ᑮ ᐲ ᑮᐑᒪᑲᐦᑭ ᑳᐏ ᒥᐦᑐᑎᕽ ᐲᑐᐦᑏᐤ ᐑᓴᐦᑮᒑᕽ, ᐑᓴᐦᑮᒑᕽ ᑳᐏ ᒥᐦᑐᑎᕽ ᐲᑐᐦᑏ᙮ ᓂᑕᔭᒥᐦᒋᑮᐏᐣ ᑲᑮᐱᐢᑲᒼ ᓂᑭᐢᑭᓌᐦᐊᒫᑯᓯᐏᐣ; ᓂᐲᑭᐢᑹᐏᐣ, ᓂᓃᐦᐃᖬᐚᑎᓯᐏᐣ, ᓇᔩᐦᑖᐏᐦᐃᑯᐤ ᐋᑲᖭᓰᒧᐏᐣ᙮ ᑳᐏ ᒥᐦᑐᑎᕽ ᐲᑐᐦᑏᐤ ᐑᓴᐦᑮᒑᕽ, ᐑᓴᐦᑮᒑᕽ ᑳᐏ […]
A new poem from Solomon Ratt that we can listen to as we read along! The enviable mocs in the photo – that would make anyone want to walk in a good way – are the work of his niece, Tammy Joan Ratt.
Thanks to Heather Phipps for permission to share her poem “masinahikêwin yêkâhk/Writing in the Sand.” Heather, whose academic specialty at the University of Regina is Minority Language Education, chose to walk the walk as a student in the Cree 405 Creative Writing class taught by fellow-professor Solomon Ratt. The poem and photo were also published […]
oskîsik kohkominaw tipiskâwi-pîsim nisitohtam mitêh pakosêyihtamowin kikiskisomik ita kâ-tipêyihtâkosiyan êkwa kapê ta-wîcêwisk ᐅᐢᑮᓯᐠ ᑯᐦᑯᒥᓇᐤ ᑎᐱᐢᑳᐏ ᐲᓯᒼ ᓂᓯᑐᐦᑕᒼ ᒥᑌᐦ ᐸᑯᓭᔨᐦᑕᒧᐏᐣ ᑭᑭᐢᑭᓱᒥᐠ ᐃᑕ ᑳ ᑎᐯᔨᐦᑖᑯᓯᔭᐣ ᐁᑿ ᑲᐯ ᑕ ᐑᒉᐏᐢᐠ The eye of Grandmother Moon So attuned To the heart’s longing Reminding Of inherent belonging And how She’ll always see you through. Poem in English by Heather Clear Wind, translated into […]
Thanks to Emily-Danielle Qitsualik for allowing us to use her clever piece about Indigenous language reclamation, originally shared on FaceBook, along with her photo of Gjoa Haven, Nunavut, which is her home. Emily-Danielle’s original refers to being Inuk, and her own Inuktitut language. The message is just as important for any of the endangered languages […]
tâpwîwin ikwa wâhkôwîcihiwîwin tâpwîwin: awâsisak kî-sipwîhtahâwak; tâpwîwin: onîkihikomâwak kî-maskamâwak otawâsimisiwâwa; tâpwîwin: âtiht awâsisak namwâc kî-ohci-kîwêwak; tâpwîwin: awâsisak kî-nanôcihâwak ispî kâ-kî-pîkiskwîcik opîkiskwîwiniwâwa; tâpwîwin: âtiht awâsisak kî-otihtinâwak; tâpwîwin: âtiht awâsisak kî-nipahâwak; tâpwîwin: awâsisak kî-wanihtâwak opîkiskwîwiniwâwa; tâpwîwin: awâsisak kî-wanihtâwak otisîhcikîwiniwâwa; tâpwîwin: namwâc wâhkôwîcihiwîwin ta-kî-ispayin pâtimâ naskwîwasihtâtwâwi ayamihikimâwak mîna okimâwak okimânâhk ohci ôho tâpwîwina. ᑖᐿᐏᐣ ᐃᑿ ᐚᐦᑰᐑᒋᐦᐃᐑᐏᐣ ᑖᐿᐏᐣ: ᐊᐚᓯᓴᐠ ᑮ ᓯᐿᐦᑕᐦᐋᐘᐠ; ᑖᐿᐏᐣ: ᐅᓃᑭᐦᐃᑯᒫᐘᐠ ᑮ ᒪᐢᑲᒫᐘᐠ ᐅᑕᐚᓯᒥᓯᐚᐘ; ᑖᐿᐏᐣ: ᐋᑎᐦᐟ ᐊᐚᓯᓴᐠ ᓇᒹᐨ […]
Thanks to Prestin Mercredi-Fleming of Stanley Mission (born in Yellowknife), not only for sharing this resonant poem of affirmation currently making the rounds on FaceBook, but particularly for permitting Solomon Ratt to prepare a Cree translation for us to share and reflect upon. Thanks also to popular artist Isaac Murdoch for generous approval of use […]
pê-kîwêhtahik ‒ Bring Them Home Naomi McIlwraith What can a poem do, but to speak the truth ‒ kâ-tâpwêt, to shout the truth ‒ kâ-têpwêt, step one of Indigenous grief my friend Shannon tells me. pê-kîwêhtahik What can a poem do, but whisper ‒ ê-kitimâkihtawakik ‒ our deep unwhisperable sorrow for 215 children. Spell it […]
We are honoured to share this new poem by Canadian Parliamentary Poet Laureate, Louise Bernice Halfe written with love and respect for the children found in Kamloops and the families they left behind. We offer it both in its original English, and in this y-dialect translation prepared by Solomon Ratt with her blessing. Sol has […]
kikî-kakwê-kipihtowêwikonawak: —kî-misiwanâcihtâwak kiwâhkôhtowininaw; —kî-misiwanâcihtâwak kipîkiskwêwininaw; —kî-misiwanâcihtâwak kitisîhcikêwininaw; —kî-misiwanâcihtâwak kitahcahkowininaw. âtiht kikî-misiwanâcihisonaw; âtiht kikî-pôni-pîkiskwânaw kipîkiskwêwininaw; âtiht kikî-wanihonaw kâ-pihtâkwahk kipihtowêwinihk. mâka kîtahtawê apisci pîkiskwîwinis kîmwêw —‘kimiskâkonawak.’ kîtahtawêw —kâ-pihtâkwahk kipihtowêwin kâ-kisîwêk. ᑮ ᑲᑵ ᑭᐱᐦᑐᐍᐏᑯᓇᐘᐠ: —ᑮ ᒥᓯᐘᓈᒋᐦᑖᐘᐠ ᑭᐚᐦᑰᐦᑐᐏᓂᓇᐤ; —ᑮ ᒥᓯᐘᓈᒋᐦᑖᐘᐠ ᑭᐲᑭᐢᑵᐏᓂᓇᐤ; —ᑮ ᒥᓯᐘᓈᒋᐦᑖᐘᐠ ᑭᑎᓰᐦᒋᑫᐏᓂᓇᐤ; —ᑮ ᒥᓯᐘᓈᒋᐦᑖᐘᐠ ᑭᑕᐦᒐᐦᑯᐏᓂᓇᐤ᙮ ᐋᑎᐦᐟ ᑭᑮ ᒥᓯᐘᓈᒋᐦᐃᓱᓇᐤ; ᐋᑎᐦᐟ ᑭᑮ ᐴᓂ ᐲᑭᐢᒁᓇᐤ ᑭᐲᑭᐢᑵᐏᓂᓇᐤ; ᐋᑎᐦᐟ ᑭᑮ ᐘᓂᐦᐅᓇᐤ ᑳ ᐱᐦᑖᑿᕽ ᑭᐱᐦᑐᐍᐏᓂᕽ᙮ ᒫᑲ ᑮᑕᐦᑕᐍ ᐊᐱᐢᒋ ᐲᑭᐢᑹᐏᓂᐢ ᑮᒭᐤ —ᑭᒥᐢᑳᑯᓇᐘᐠ᙮ ᑮᑕᐦᑕᐍᐤ —ᑳ ᐱᐦᑖᑿᕽ ᑭᐱᐦᑐᐍᐏᐣ […]
kikî-wîhtamowin î-mihtâtaman; kiyâpic nimithkowin. kikî-mîthin sôniyâw; kiyâpic nimithkowin.
Rosanna Deerchild presented two powerful pieces today on Facebook, reflecting on the fresh horror of mass graves at Kamloops Residential School. The first is a brief, real-life conversation; the second, a reflection on the first. Solomon Ratt has rendered both in Woodlands Cree (th-dialect) which is the language of Rosanna’s “Momsy” (Edna), and the language […]
Thanks to Destiny Thomas for sharing this poem she wrote in her FNUC advanced Cree Creative Writing class, along with her own audio and family portrait. It is really a joy to see people claiming their birthright by learning to read and write and express themselves in Cree. It’s even sweeter to see, through this […]
askiy kitohtâpamihikonaw; yôtin kitohtâyêhyêhikonaw; iskotêw kitohtâkîsôwihikonaw; nipiy kitohtâminihkwênaw; kipîkiskwêwininawa, kitâtayôhkêwininawa, kiwâhkômitowininawa, kimâmawinitowininawa kahkiyaw ôhi kitohtâpamihikonaw, kahkiyaw kipimâcihikonaw. ᐊᐢᑭᐩ ᑭᑐᐦᑖᐸᒥᐦᐃᑯᓇᐤ; ᔫᑎᐣ ᑭᑐᐦᑖᔦᐦᔦᐦᐃᑯᓇᐤ; ᐃᐢᑯᑌᐤ ᑭᑐᐦᑖᑮᓲᐏᐦᐃᑯᓇᐤ; ᓂᐱᐩ ᑭᑐᐦᑖᒥᓂᐦᑵᓇᐤ; ᑭᐲᑭᐢᑵᐏᓂᓇᐘ, ᑭᑖᑕᔫᐦᑫᐏᓂᓇᐘ, ᑭᐚᐦᑰᒥᑐᐏᓂᓇᐘ, ᑭᒫᒪᐏᓂᑐᐏᓂᓇᐘ ᑲᐦᑭᔭᐤ ᐆᐦᐃ ᑭᑐᐦᑖᐸᒥᐦᐃᑯᓇᐤ, ᑲᐦᑭᔭᐤ ᑭᐱᒫᒋᐦᐃᑯᓇᐤ᙮ Earth nourishes us; Wind gives us air to breathe; Fire gives us warmth; Water quenches our thirst; Our languages, our sacred stories, […]
There are many, many reviews to be found on Google praising this 2019 publication from Theytus Books. The book remains shortlisted for the 2019 CODE Burt Award for First Nations, Inuit, and Métis Young Adult Literature – the awarding of which was postponed by the arrival of Covid-19. Shane L. Koyczan began writing it as […]
tâpiskôc otêhimin “just like a strawberry” – or “heart berry” if you translate more literally from Cree. Thank you, Naomi McIlwraith, for sharing these sweet, tangy, and even silly thoughts of love in a cold climate. tâpiskôc otêhimin, my heart pumps for youeven during an ass-biting, bone-snapping POLAR VORTEX! Like a strawberry, my heart jumps […]
The legendary Buffy Sainte-Marie wrote this song during the civil rights movement in the 60s. She has called it, “Indian 101 for people who’ve been denied the real history.” It’s an anthem to decolonization, and its razor-sharp words describe an Indigenous reality that has changed remarkably little in over half a century since. This single, […]
Amanda Gorman’s poetry and performance at yesterday’s Presidential inauguration was breathtaking. The closing phrase of her poem, “The Hill we Climb” offers a special aspiration that we can all hold dear. Thanks, Sol, for capturing it in Cree. kapî ôma wâsaskotîw kîspin îsa ta-kî-sôhkitîhîyahk ta-wâpahtamahk; kîspin îsa ta-kî-sôhkitîhîyahk ikosi ta-isi-ayâyahk. ᑲᐲ ᐆᒪ ᐚᓴᐢᑯᑏᐤ ᑮᐢᐱᐣ ᐄᓴ […]
Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 43 is one of the most widely recognized love poems on the planet. The strictly structured poetry that we think of as “classical” in English doesn’t need to be preserved to make it beautiful in Cree. Thanks to Solomon Ratt for providing us with this interpretation grounded in a Cree view […]
Thanks to Dorothy Thunder (Professor of Cree at University of Alberta and longtime friend and language warrior) for sharing this poem (including audio) that formed the centre of her November 2019 presentation at the SICC Language Keepers Conference. nimiyoskâkon ninêhiyâwiwin – My Cree nurtures menipêhtên nêhiyawêwin nipawâtamowinihknimâmitonêyicikanihk, niyawihk, nitâhcahkomihknimiyoskâkon – it nurtures me I dream […]
ᐄ ᐊᑎ ᐳᐚᑕᒫᐣᓂᑮ ᑭᑕᐦᐊᒫᑿᐠ ᐄᑳ ᑕ ᐲᑭᐢᑹᔮᐣ ᓃᐦᐃᖬᐑᐏᐣ ᓂᐲᑭᐢᑹᐏᐣ ᐃᑕᑳ ᑭᐢᑮᖨᐦᑕᒫᐣ ᐃᑿ ᑳ ᐑᐦᑕᒫᐣ ᓂᑕᐢᑭᕀᓂᓇᐦᐊᐢᑖᓱᐏᐣᓂᑎᖨᓃᓯᐏᐣᑳ ᐃᓯ ᓃᐦᐃᖬᐚᑎᓯᔮᐣᑮ ᓇᑐᓇᒷᐠ – ᒫᑲ ᑮ ᑇᐦᐱᓃᐘᐠ –ᑕ ᒦᐢᑯᑕᐢᑖᒋᐠ ᓂᑎᑏᖨᒥᓱᐏᐣ ᑳ ᐃᓯ ᓃᐦᐃᖬᐚᑎᓯᔮᐣᒪᓯᓇᐦᐃᑲᓈᐱᐢᐠ ᑕ ᐱᓯᑿᐢᑏᐠᐃᑕ ᑕ ᐅᐦᐱᑭᐦᑖᓄᐏᐠ ᐅᐢᑭ ᔮᑎᓯᐏᐣᐃᑿ ᐅᐢᑭ ᐃᑕᑭᓱᐏᐣᐃᑕ ᓂᓃᐦᐃᖬᐚᑎᓯᐏᐣ ᐄ ᒦᐢᑕᐦᐃᑳᑏᐠ ᐃᑿ ᐄ ᑳᓰᐦᐃᑳᑏᐠᐃᑿ ᐊᓂᐦᐃ ᐃᑏᖨᒥᓱᐏᓇ ‘ᐅᑮᐢᑹᐲᐢᐠ,ᐃ ‘ᐅᑭᐦᑎᒥᐤ,ᐃ ᐃᒪᒑᔨᓯᐏᐣ,ᐃ ᐃᑿ ᑲᐦᑭᖬᐤ ᑮᑿᕀᑳ ᐃᓯ ᒪᒋ ᐃᑏᖨᐦᒋᑳᓱᐟ ‘ᐃᖨᓂᐏᐊᓇ ᐅᑭᒫᐏᐏᐣ […]
Harry Raine, a Maskwacis Cree elder of the Louis Bull Tribe, brought the Cree language to Juno beach in Normandy to commemorate the 75th Anniversary of D-day 6 June 2019, and the Battle of Normandy. In honour of the fallen, he read “Binyon’s Verse” – translated into Plains Cree. Transcript and video follow, for […]
Thanks to Chief Billy Joe for letting us share this poem (that really ought to be a love song). Maybe a tune will come to him some time soon. And thanks to Solomon Ratt for recording his reading of Billy Joe’s work. nikiskēyihtēn ēkā ēkota ē-kī-ayāyān,kā-kī-mēkwā-ohpikīyan.nisākihitōwin ēkota kī-ayāw,kā-kī-mēkwā-ohpikīyān….kaskēyihtamowin kapē-tipisk ayamihāwinihkkīspin ē-itēyihtamān ēkota ta-ayāyān…ē-kī-kiskēyihtamān ēkā cīki […]
When Julia Ouellette of Loon Lake, Saskatchewan challenged her fellow Cree speakers on FaceBook to post a video of themselves on FaceBook in the Cree language, these responses came from Solomon Ratt and Arok Wolvengrey. nipîkiskwîwin kihcîthihtâkwan:nipîkiskwîn nikiskinwahamâkon tânisi kita-isi-mitho-pimohtîyân ôta kitaskînahk. kîspin oti nitohtamânani âcathohkîwina, kîspin oti nitohtawakwâwi kihtî-ayak.nipîskwîwin nikiskinwahamâkon tânisi kita-isi-nâkatîthimakwâw nicawâsimisak, nôsisimak […]
kî-kakwî-nipahtâwak nipîkiskwîwinispî kâ-kî-kiskinwahamawicik;kakîpâtisak!nikî-kiskinwahamawikwaktânisi kita-isi-pasikôhtâyân anima kâ-kî-nâspitihkwâmiskahkwâw. ᑮ ᑲᑹ ᓂᐸᐦᑖᐘᐠ ᓂᐲᑭᐢᑹᐏᐣᐃᐢᐲ ᑳ ᑮ ᑭᐢᑭᓌᐦᐊᒪᐏᒋᐠ;ᑲᑮᐹᑎᓴᐠ!ᓂᑮ ᑭᐢᑭᓌᐦᐊᒪᐏᑿᐠᑖᓂᓯ ᑭᑕ ᐃᓯ ᐸᓯᑰᐦᑖᔮᐣ ᐊᓂᒪ ᑳ ᑮ ᓈᐢᐱᑎᐦᒁᒥᐢᑲᐦᒁᐤ᙮ They tried to kill my languageWhen they were educating me:The fools!They taught me how to raiseThat which has been in a trance.
pah-piskihc tâpwîwina:âcathohkîwina masinahikanihkkâ-kî-mâwasakonahkwâw opîtatowîwak;namôtha iyakoni misakâmî âcathohkîwina,pah-piskihc poko tâpwîwina. pah-piskihc tâpwîwina:nîsta mîna nikiskisin apisîs ikwa pah-piskihc âcathohkîwina;namôthah misakâmî âcathohkîwina iyakoni,pah-piskihc poko tâpwîwina. pah-piskihc tâpwîwina:ta-apihkîyahk âcathohkîwinamasinahikanihk ohci mîna kikiskisnowininahk;mâmawi-atoskîyahki kika-misakâmî-astânaw âcathohkîwina,namôtha poko pah-piskihc tâpwîwina. ᐸᐦ ᐱᐢᑭᐦᐨ ᑖᐿᐏᓇ:ᐋᒐᖪᐦᑮᐏᓇ ᒪᓯᓇᐦᐃᑲᓂᕽᑳ ᑮ ᒫᐘᓴᑯᓇᐦᒁᐤ ᐅᐲᑕᑐᐑᐘᐠ;ᓇᒨᖬ ᐃᔭᑯᓂ ᒥᓴᑳᒦ ᐋᒐᖪᐦᑮᐏᓇ,ᐸᐦ ᐱᐢᑭᐦᐨ ᐳᑯ ᑖᐿᐏᓇ᙮ ᐸᐦ ᐱᐢᑭᐦᐨ ᑖᐿᐏᓇ:ᓃᐢᑕ ᒦᓇ ᓂᑭᐢᑭᓯᐣ ᐊᐱᓰᐢ ᐃᑿ ᐸᐦ ᐱᐢᑭᐦᐨ ᐋᒐᖪᐦᑮᐏᓇ;ᓇᒨᖬ ᒥᓴᑳᒦ ᐋᒐᖪᐦᑮᐏᓇ ᐃᔭᑯᓂ,ᐸᐦ ᐱᐢᑭᐦᐨ ᐳᑯ […]
Thanks to Izaiah Swampy-Omeasoo who sent this poem by Teta Engram to Solomon Ratt for translation into Cree. Teta Engram is a teacher at Victoria School of Arts in Edmonton, who has a keen interest in writing and working with First Nations, Métis and Inuit students.
Following up on our joint presentation at Editors Canada 2018 Conference in Saskatoon (26 May 2018), Solomon is (as usual) three jumps ahead. Using slides from our presentation, he has prepared this bilingual presentation (with audio!) of Rosanna’s poem î-nihci-tîpwâtamâhk kîsik / Calling Down the Sky. The title of our presentation (which I will add […]
Thanks and deep respect to Billy Joe Laboucan for permission to share this poignant tribute to his late daughter Bella, who became one of the legions of Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women in 2013 at the age ot 25. While I can’t begin to imagine the pain of loss that hundreds of families feel every day, I believe that the shame of their truth is something that all Canadians bear. They all – we all – deserve better. (Here is Bella’s Story from the MMIW Inquiry.)
| Sākihitōwin ohcikawīw ohci | Love pours from | | Niskīsikohk. | My eyes. | | Sākihitōwin sākaskinahtāw, | Love fills | | Nikiskisōwina | My memories. | | Sākihitōwināpoy kākīcihtāw | Love-tears soothe | | Nimanawaya. | My cheeks. | | Sākihitōwin osāmaskinahtāw, | Love overwhelms | | Nitīhīh. | My heart. |
Each one carries part of the story in Cree. Standing: Ken Paupanekis, Janice Bone and two beautiful awâsisak, MKO Grand Chief Arlen Dumas; seated, Edna Moose (Momsy) and Rosanna
Handling stories with love. Edna Moose (Momsy) and Rosanna.
MKO Grand Chief Arlen Dumas, Momsy and Rosanna
Rosanna sends her thanks to Solomon Ratt for the translations
Sweetest part of the day? Not even.
The launch of Rosanna Deerchild’s Cree-language edition of Calling Down the Sky on Sunday, 29 November 2017 at McNally Robinson in Winnipeg was poignant and sweet. The photos here – most from Rosanna’s Facebook Feed – capture the best of the event, where a small group of Cree speakers assembled to demonstrate their hard-won command of the Cree language despite a century of colonial interference.
The guest readers included Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs Grand Chief Arlen Dumas from Pukatawagan, University of Manitoba Master’s student Janice Bone from Pimicikamak, and Cree Literacy Network board member and university professor Ken Paupanekis from Norway House, each one a living testament to resistence and resiliency.
Rosanna – deprived of her birthright language through her mother’s residential school traumas – also read a poem in the translation provided by First Nations University professor Solomon Ratt, while encouraging non-speakers to reflect on the experience of listening without understanding that Residential School students were forced to endure.
Ken Paupanekis – who teaches for both the University of Manitoba and at University College of the North commented on the difficulty that reading presented for each of the speakers: Learning to read and write Cree is a separate skill that none of the speakers acquired in childhood, and few fluent Cree speakers have ever had the opportunity to learn.
MKO Grand Chief Arlen Dumas Janice Bone Ken Paupanekis Rosanna Deerchild
Learn more about the book here:
î-nitotamahk kîsik: Rosanna Deerchild translated by Solomon Ratt