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- Herausgeber: Arc Publications
- Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
- Serie: Arc Translations
- Sprache: Englisch
His narrative poems are precise, focusing on what may otherwise be overlooked. Whether fable-like in tone, or ruminating on the familiar such as lying in bed, bathing, drinking water and chatting, Vērdiņš's observation is sensual, often sexy. The erotic is as part of his experience as eating, perhaps the two are inseparable "beautiful as everything that enters your life", just as the world tips into surprising angles, where emotions are upended and light fills every shadow. Kārlis Vērdiņš was born in 1979 in Riga. He is the author of many academic papers and essays on literature, both Latvian and foreign, as well as a prolific literary critic. He has published four volumes of poetry, all to a great critical and popular acclaim and fetching top literary awards. Vērdiņš has also written librettos and song lyrics and has published translations of American Modernist poetry. His own poetry has been translated in many languages, including collections in Russian and Polish.
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COME TO ME
Published by Arc Publications,
Nanholme Mill, Shaw Wood Road
Todmorden OL14 6DA, UK
www.arcpublications.co.uk
Original poems copyright © Kārlis Vērdiņš 2015
Translation copyright © Ieva Lešinska 2015
Introduction copyright © Ieva Lešinska 2015
Copyright in the present edition © Arc Publications 2015
978 1908376 22 0 (pbk)
978 1908376 23 7 (hbk)
978 1908376 24 4 (ebk)
Design by Tony Ward
Cover photograph by Jānis Indāns
ACKNOWELDGMENTS
Several of these poems have appeared in The Edinburgh Review, Modern Poetry in Translation and Talisman (USA) and in the anthologies A Fine Line (Arc, 2004), Six Latvian Poets (Arc, 2011) and The World Record (Bloodaxe, 2012)
The publication of this work was supported by a grant from the Latvian Literature Centre, State Culture Capital Foundation & Ministry of Cuture of the Republic of Latvia.
This book is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to provision of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part of this book may take place without the written permission of Arc Publications.
‘Arc Translations’
Series Editor: Jean Boase-Beier
Kārlis Vērdiņš
COME TO ME
Translated & introduced by
Ieva Lešinska
2015
CONTENTS
Introduction
Come to Me
•
Come to Me
Dharmas laukā
•
In the Dharma Field
Ko tur liegties
•
Why Deny It
Eņģelis
•
Angel
„Es ceru uz pulksteni…“
•
“I hope for a clock…”
Status quo
•
Status Quo
Jaunā dzīve
•
New Life
Kā bilde
•
Picture Perfect
Vēlējumies
•
Wish
Lietus
•
Rain
Ērglim
•
To the Eagle
Ganiņš
•
Shepherd
Kailgliemeži
•
Slugs
Mēs
•
We
Pasaka par zelta jumpravu
•
Tale of the Golden Maiden
Vēstule
•
Letter
Iekšējās kārtības noteikumi
•
Internal Rules of Conduct
Grāmata
•
Book
Prezidente
•
President
Kādā izrādē
•
At a Performance
Laika ziņas
•
Weather Forecast
Remonts
•
Renovation
Filma
•
Movie
Mutes
•
Mouths
„Upes pār manas zemes vaigu…“
•
“Rivers over the face of my country…“
Nakts Pārdaugavā
•
Night in Pārdaugava
Zīmes
•
Signs
Es
•
I
Sniegavīrs
•
Snowman
Karavīri
•
Soldiers
Metāls
•
Metal
ATMIŅAS NO TAUTISKĀ LAIKMETA / MEMORIES FROM THE AGE OF NATIONAL AWAKENING
Magnāta atmiņas
•
Memories of a Tycoon
Islandiešu mājsaimnieces atmiņas
•
Memories of an Icelandic Housewife
Retoriķa atmiņas
•
Memories of a Rhetorician
Karaļa Ibī atmiņas
•
Memories of Ubu Roi
Sančo Pansas atmiņas
•
Memories of Sancho Panza
Doktora Vatsona atmiņas
•
Memories of Dr. Watson
Live
•
Live
Māmiņ, man ir plāns!
•
Mummy, I Have a Plan
Problēmas
•
Problems
Jaunā viela
•
New Material
„Kambarītī aiz bioloģijas…”
•
“In the closet behind the biology lab …”
Pēc dažiem gadiem aizbraucu…
•
“After a few years had passed…”
Pasaka par filoloģi Sintiju
•
Tale of Philologist Cynthia
Ūdens malki
•
Drops of Water
Uzvara
•
Victory
Labu apetīti
•
Bon appétit!
Putekļus slaukot
•
Dusting
Pieaugušie
•
Adults
Jūs
•
You
Daugavas kreisajā krastā
•
On the Left Bank of the Daugava
Pavasaris Pārdaugavā
•
Spring in Pārdaugava
Raideris
•
Rider
Roka
•
Hand
Savas kārtas patikšana
•
Enjoying My Class
Sāls
•
Salt
Televizors
•
TV
„Labvakar, mūsu mazo draudziņ!”
•
“Good evening, little darling!”
Zentralfriedhof Münster
•
Zentralfriedhof Münster
Meli
•
Lies
Biographical Notes
INTRODUCTION
Kārlis Vērdiņš (b. 1979) belongs to the generation of Latvian poets who came into their own in the mid to late 1990s when the political turmoil had subsided and a period of relative calm had set in. As the country integrated with European and pan-Atlantic socio-cultural structures, this generation made it plain it was born European: free from the political agenda of its parents, better educated and more open to the diversity of the world than they. Vērdiņš very soon stood out among these poets, given his obvious talent, creative mind and energy. Beginning to publish in 1997, he then became editor of the magazine of new writing, Luna, a post he held from 1999 to 2003, all the while pursuing his studies at the Latvian Culture Academy where he worked as part of a team putting out a new encyclopaedia, and playing music on the side with a group that called itself “Maukas” (Sluts).
In 2001, Vērdiņš published his first book of poetry, aptly titled Ledlauži (Icebreakers). The ice to be broken was that silence and ignorance concerning gays, gender issues, and alternative lifestyles so prevalent both in Latvian literature and society at large at that time. The inescapable same-sex eroticism of that book was, however, so universally sensuous and emotionally pure that it seemed not to offend even the most homophobic readers – or perhaps there were simply no homophobes among Latvians who read poetry. Be that as it may, aggressive social provocation is hardly Vērdiņš’s style: he prefers to provoke with the juxtaposition and seamless blending of high and low, insightful and naive, cliché and innovation.
Ledlauži was followed by Biezpiens ar krējumu (Cottage Cheese with Cream, 2004), its title a reference to a typically Latvian combination of milk products that suggest a robust, unpretentious wholesomeness and no-nonsense nourishment. Yet the title poem turns out to be anything but bucolic – it is an ironic take on dull complacency, mindless pleasantness, soft-edged conformity. It is no stinging social criticism, but rather a playful, tongue-in-cheek observation. Throughout the volume, the author’s voice is sophisticated and knowing, yet he does not place himself somewhere above the fray: his smile may be wry, but it is also self-deprecating. In an early interview, Vērdiņš explains:
It seems that everyone considers me an ironic author who just keeps joking and fooling around. Perhaps it is so. [..] It’s just that when we were all still very young and were writing our first poems, I got annoyed by the recurring lament: “Oh my, how lousy I feel today and how much pain the world is visiting upon me!” – there was all this fatalistic egocentrism coming through. [..] I just don’t feel like obsessing about myself.
In a seeming reversal of this statement or, rather, wrapping himself in yet another layer of irony (“Just because I can control the functioning of my inner organs, it doesn’t mean I don’t have any”, see “I”), Vērdiņš soon thereafter published his third book of poetry for adults (he has also written for younger readers), defiantly entitling it Es (I) (2008). As with all of Vērdiņš’s previous work, this too was well received by critics and readers alike and marked a new stage in his development as a poet – the consistent usage of the prose poem, which he calls the ‘bastard form’ and which seems well-suited to his dual nature as a sensitive and subtle versifier and imagist, on the one hand, and story-teller on the other. It is likewise an assured walk along the path first laid down by the modernists – mixed metaphors, multiple viewpoints, juxtapositions between the lofty and the mundane, ‘high’ and ‘low’ language, as well as a genuine capacity for wonder, checked by scepticism and subtle emotion, veiled by ‘impersonality’ as defined by T. S. Eliot, an author whose poetry Vērdiņš has translated quite extensively.
Vērdiņš seems to be following Ezra Pound’s modernist maxim “Make it new!” His latest book, Mēs (We, 2012), combines every poem in the first three collections plus a few unpublished poems and a concluding eponymous chapter, and clearly shows the range of styles and influences Vērdiņš has mastered – from Latvian classics to postmodernists. Each he feels free to interpret, mix in new combinations and take apart. This would not be possible without his wide exposure to both Latvian and foreign literature and, above all, his enthusiasm for language and its myriad possibilities.
It is Vērdiņš’s love of Latvian and his ability to make the reader confront that language as if for the first time that is, to a great extent, what makes translating Kārlis Vērdiņš’s poetry such an exciting journey: a challenge to my skills, an adventure, a pleasure.
Ieva Lešinska
COME TO ME
(COME TO ME)
Es tev vedu mazu siermaizīti. Bija jau divi naktī, visi kļuvuši miegaini, veikali ciet, bet bārā „I love you” es dabūju mazu siermaizīti.
Braucu ar taksi un vedu tev siermaizīti, jo tu gulēji bēdīgs, varbūt pat slims, un mājās nebija nekā garšīga. Briesmīgi dārga, kaut kur ap latu, bet tas nekas.
Braucu ar savu mazo ailavjū, saspiestu, gandrīz jau atdzisušu. Bet sanāca tā, ka neaizbraucu uz mājām. Nokļuvu tur, kur visi līksmi un asprātīgi, un ļoti izsalkuši. Iedzēru, uzdziedāju, bet maizīti pataupīju.
Laikam tikai trešajā dienā beidzot varēju tevi pacienāt, tu biji tik nikns, ka apēdi maizīti, lāgā to neapskatījis. Būtu es drosmīgāks, būtu teicis – tu taču zini, ka es tevi mīlu, tu taču zini, ka apbrīnoju. Neliec man, lai atkal to saku.
COME TO ME
(COME TO ME)
I was bringing you a little cheese sandwich. It was two in the morning, everybody sleepy, shops closed but in the “I Love You” bar they gave me a little cheese sandwich.
I was in a taxi bringing you a little cheese sandwich ’cause you were lying there sad, perhaps even ill, and there was nothing good to eat in the house. Was really expensive, around one lat, but that’s OK.
So I was in the taxi with my little iluvu, all squished, practically cold. But for some reason I didn’t make it home. Somehow I ended up where everyone was merry and witty, and starving. So I drank, I sang, but I saved my little sandwich.
Must have been the third day when I could finally treat you to it, you were so angry, you ate the sandwich hardly looking at it. Had I had more courage, I would have said: but you know I love you, you know I admire you. Don’t make me say it again
DHARMAS LAUKĀ
(IN THE DHARMA FIELD)
Mēs te sēžam un ēdam kartupeļus, bet Rembo un Verlēns jau ir Briselē. Esot uzrakstījuši daudz jaunu dzejoļu.
Mēs te Lielajos kapos dzeram alu, izglītojam cits citu un paši paliekam galīgi skābi. Bērns raud celiņa malā.
Ardžuna sacīja: „Man nevajag ne karaļvalsts, ne laimes, tikai vēl vienu dienu nesēdēt pie tā smirdīgā datora.” Un saļima viņš pie kāda pelēka kapakmens.
Kuš, lasi tālāk! Viņi esot jau Londonā! Visapkārt esot dzeltena migla. Bet mums bambuks aug griezdamies vāzītē virtuvē.
Londonas spiegu ziņojumus jau aplūko Briseles datoros. Bet mums te virtuvē zilā bļodiņā sīpols. Izkurtējis, atdevis visu spēku zaļam lociņu pušķītim.
IN THE DHARMA FIELD
(DHARMAS LAUKĀ)
Here we sit eating potatoes, whereas Rimbaud and Verlaine have long since gone to Brussels. They say they’ve written many new poems.
Here we sit in the Great Cemetery, educating one another and turning as sour as the beer we’re drinking. There’s a child crying by the side of the path.
Said Arjuna: “I have no need for a kingdom or happiness, just one more day away from that stinking computer.” And he collapsed by some grey headstone.
Shush, go on reading! They say they are already in London! Yellow fog all around. Whereas we have a shoot of bamboo thriving in a vase in the kitchen.
Spy messages from London are already being examined on Brussels computers. Whereas we have an onion in a blue bowl in the kitchen. All withered, its strength given to a green clump of sprouts.
KO TUR LIEGTIES
(WHY DENY IT)
Es jau teicu, ka esmu noguris – šodien izvilku zebru no degošiem brikšņiem un iecēlu furgonā vienpadsmit saindējušos pingvīnus. Algu neprasu, publicitāti nevajag, tikai mazliet miera un klusuma.
Bet tikmēr posts un aukstums iezadzies manā mājā, kur šie aizjūras darījumi nevienam nav saprotami, un priekšā stāvēja sāpīga izskaidrošanās.
Vai varat iedomāties, daži tiešām jauki un mīļi cilvēki bija vairākas dienas sēdējuši bez ūdens, elektrības un seksa, un neviens nebija varējis viņiem paskaidrot lietas būtību.
Bija vien pašam šī putra jāizstrebj. Gribēju jums to pastāstīt, lai zināt, kādas lietas no manis var sagaidīt.
Bet citādi uzvedos labi, visiem palīdzu, pasauli glābju no sliktajiem zirnekļiem, mācos neeksistēt brīžos, kad tas nav nepieciešams. Pat lietū un slapjdraņķī lidoju pāri pilsētas tumšajām ielām, mans sarkanais apmetnis galīgi netīrs un samircis.
WHY DENY IT
(KO TUR LIEGTIES)
