COLORLESS (an exercise in poor translation)

Hi all, be you readers or bots !

It's been a few days since I last posted anything on here. Things have picked up at work (now that I got promoted even more so), so there's little time to allocate to everything.

Anyway, I was looking into my folder of old poems, and I came across this one, which is called ' Безбоен ' in Macedonian, meaning 'colorless' (adj. m.) I wrote it a few days before my 16th birthday. Who inspired me to write this - I have no idea.

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Since adjectives in my language are gendered (they have a masculine, feminine and neuter forms), the title is definitely a masculine form of the adjective (hence the adj. m. above). The feminine form of the adjective would be 'безбојна', while the neuter form would be 'безбојно'.

My guess I must have written this poem about a classmate who was going through a rough patch, and with whom I identified in some aspect.

Now, so far I've been translating and reworking my poems from Macedonian into English to suit my current style and worldview.

Today, I won't be doing that.

Instead, you get to read the poem in an almost literal translation (for more explanation about what I mean about this, see here or here).

This also means that I've just swapped the languages (Macedonian to English) whilst following most of the rules regarding meaning, as translating meaning isn't simply a switch from one language to another.

Here's the poem:
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COLORLESS

I know you
I’ve come to know you
like those nuns know
every page of the bible
and pray for us.

I know you,
I have no ill will against you.
you break nothing in bitterness,
you make everything in silence,
it’s almost lifeless,
like it’s not you
but that old harvester in the picture.

I know you,
I know when you count your thoughts,
and when you make rocky deserts out of love
but give yourself freedom,
give yourself a color

I know you,
somewhere at the bottom of the page
you’ll write that you’re a burnt candle
but you’re young, I’d add,
you’re a stranger in your own skin
you’re getting to know yourself, I’d also add.

I know you,
even though you’re colorless,
I know you in many colors
I know you,
you’re waiting,
you don’t know what,
but you know why.

22 May 2001

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There it is, in all it's crude glory.

Source

Apart from the fact that the title can take on a variety of meanings (from literal meanings - a person without color - so transparent maybe? - to more metaphorical ones - not involved in politics or social movements, or, heck, not a fan of any football teams), what do you see in this poem that you can call 'poetic'?

I'm merely asking this as there will be a part two about this same poem, where I try to analyze it in terms of contents.

Tell me what you think!