Yesterday I listened to an interview with the Bosnian poet Abdulah Sidran who talked about creation of one of his poems. He said that the poem that seems as if it had been writen during the war was actually written in 1985, and that he had dreamed it first in Macedonian, the language he does not speak. When he woke up he phoned a friend in Macedonia and she told him to write it down. That’s how his poem “Mora” (Nightmare) was created. As far as I know the poem has not been officially translated into English but at the bottom of this article I enclose a very good translation into Italian, and my  translation into English.

To inspire and to be inspired – isn’t that what we all look for in our creative process?

To  be inspired is not taking others’ ideas and making them their own. To inspire someone is to make one look inside themselves and come up with a creation of their own. Not everyone has sensibility and the workings of an artist, but being true to oneself, looking inside instead of imitating is the right way to start.

Appreciate yourself and what you have to offer, and be honest …… with yourself.

A photo of me drawing inspiration from nature (taken by the most inspiring person in my life)

L’INCUBO 

Che stai facendo, figlio?

Sogno, madre mia, sogno che sto cantando,
e tu mi chiedi, nel sogno: che stai facendo, figlio?

Cosa canti nel sogno, o figlio?

Canto, madre mia, che avevo una casa.
E adesso la casa non ce l’ho. Questo canto, madre mia.

Avevo la mia voce, o madre, e la mia lingua avevo.
E ora non ho né voce né lingua.

Con la voce che non ho, nella lingua che non ho,
dalla casa che non ho, io canto la mia canzone, o madre.

-Translation into Italian of Abdulah Sidran’s poem “Mora” 

Here follows my translation into English:

NIGHTMARE

What are you doing  son?

I’m dreaming mother, dreaming that I am singing.

And in my dream you ask me: what are you doing, son?

What do you sing in your dream, son?

Mother, I sing that I used to have a house.

And now I don’t have a house. That’s what I sing, Mother.

I used to have a voice, Mother, and I used to have a language.

And now I have no voice, no language.

With the voice that I don’t have, in the language that I don’t have,

from the house that I don’t have I sing my song, Mother.

You may ask yourself what this poem has to do with the attached photo, music and my musings on inspiration. The common denominator is the process of creation, the way inspiration works sometimes, and  I just felt like sharing with you.

Have a good Monday and the whole week ahead!