here is my average attempt at the translation. note, its incredibly basic finnish level and is all told in the present tense.

t�m�n tarina nimi on gaelin kieless� “tir na n�g”, suomeksi se on “nuoruuden maa”.
oisin on mets�ss� mets�st�m�ss�. oisinin is� on finn, finn on surren armeijan esimies irlannissa.
oisin nakee kauniin naisen. naisen nimi on niamh. niamhin isa on meren jumala. niamh k�velee oisiniin vierelle ja he juttelevat. niamh valitsee oisinin puolisokseen. h�n suostuu, he menev�t nuoruuden maahan heid�n taikahevosella. se on taikahevosen kosta se voi k�velee meren p��ll�. oisin ja niamh matkustavat nuoruuden maassa kolme sataa vuotta. t�m�n j�lkeen oisin haluaa menn� kotiin. niamh antaa oisinille taikahevonen, mutta niamh sanoo “ei jataa hevosta”. oisin matkustaa meren p��l�� irlantiin hevosella, kun h�n saapua h�n nakee ett� irlanti on muuttunu, se on erliainen. muut eiv�t muista h�nen is�n armeija. kaikki ihmiset ovat pienempi� ha heikkompia. oisin nakee yhden miehen joka yritt�� liikuttaa kive�. mutta mies on heikko. oisin auttaa miest�, mutta oisin kosketaa maata. heti, oisin tulee vanhaksi ha keikoksi. oisin on maassa ja hevonen juoksee nuoruuden maahan. nyt, oisin on vanha mies ja ei voi menn� takasin niamhiin.

ooooooo!

for an exercise for my finnish class, i have to translate and tell the class a story from my home countries mythology. im going to use this one, the story of oisin and tir na �g:

oisin was one of the few mortal men to ever be invited to tir nan og. he was the son of finn, chief of the fenian wariors of ireland. one day while hunting, he was appproached by a beautiful maiden. she was niamh, daughter of manannan, the god of the sea. she chose oisin to be her lover and to come live with her in tir nan og. they rode together over the sea on her faerie horse and visited many strange and beautiful places. at one of them niamh asked oisin to free a tuatha de danann damsel from a fomor demon, which he did, defeating the fomor. oisin spent 300 years with niamh in tir nan og, before he became homesick for his people and birthplace. niamh provided him with a faerie steed and warned him that he must not set foot on the earth. arriving back in ireland he noticed that much had changed, the fenians were only a myth, and the men were smaller and weaker. while observing, he leaned down to help a man lift a boulder, as he did so he slipped from the saddle and landed on the sand. instantly he was transformed into an old blind man. he wandered ireland for many years before st. patrick took him into his house and tried to convert him to christianity. oisin refused saying that he could not hounour a god who would not count finn amoung his friends, and would rather spend eternity in hell with the fennians living in death as he had life, than go to st. patrick’s heaven.

proper use of fada’s etc. are lacking in that thing i found on some oirish website. translating it might take a while.

in this weeks economist there is a review of an art exhibition/tour taking place in nyc until july 27th. its at the lincoln center. well, its actually a walking tour of new york city and takes in some things that one wouldnt normally see on a tour. here are some excerpts from the article.

ninety dollars is a lot to pay for a city walking tour. but theatre enthusiasts are flocking to see deborah warner’s performance piece “the angel project”

with its nod to the wim wenders 1987 film, “wings to desire”, in whihc angels look out from berlin’s high-rise buildings and occasionally swoop down to help people in distress. ms. warner’s theatrical walk is a ticket into some of new york’s hidden treasures. it begins on roosevelt island, in a field that offersa magical view of manhattan which few people - even new yorkers - will have seen. from there, it is a short subway ride to the first site, an abandoned and miserable walk-up apartment with a broken electric heater- next is a 27th floor loft space carpeted with white feathers which are lit by naked bulbs, and there are also two rows of metal lockers each marked with the name of an angel. propped up in a corner is a worn postcard depicting the baptism of christ.

instead of the to-be-expected pornography in a 42nd street peeporama, large boxed of bibles and korans invite the visitor to contemplate the temptations of religion. in the balcony of the disused, yet still beautiful, liberty theatre, a winged angel appears. an elderly bearded man stares, saint like, into the middle distance while on the floor lies the body of a man. dead or asleep, one does not know.

mozart booms from speakers at the last destination - the 63rd of the magnificent chrysler building - while a black angel sleeps swetly on the floor. in one room a table is voered with stacks of bibles, korans and milton’s “paradise lost”. a middle aged man sits by an open window, and stares out. a young man crouches by another open window, suggesting a possible suicide or mabye an angelic flight. the vista from the top of the building is overwhelming - at once beautiful and terrifying. the feeling in these rooms, filled with the exalted voices of a choir and the presence of the young men, suggest the quietsioning, tormented world of a dostoevsky hero. most shocking are the open windows. an open window high up in a skyscraper is most uncommon - perhaps even illegal. but it is for each member of the audience to decide if it is open to let the angels in or out

doesn�t that sound incredibly cool?. i can only imagine what the atmosphere would have been like at the final destination, looking out the windows, mozart playing, imagery of angels. lucky new yorkers!

happy birthday central park! 150years old. in honour of that im going to sit in a park later this evening

one of the pics from guido mocafico. some really nice stuff, let the pages load completley for proper viewing.

the above pic is from brasila in brazil.