(nameless nonexister)

[Senna Jawa]

I've posted my original for instance here: (bezimienny nieistnieniowiec)

(nameless nonexister)

i was packing nights full of stars
into the bags under my eyes

the past six years birds from sky
fall down like stones

in a nightgown only
she'd sneak from a place through window
--clouds were hurling themselves in the glassy wall--
down the rope eighteen floors
and like nothing happened
she'd enter my basement through the door

she'd find me under seven comforters
higher than moon she'd peak
and cry
and leave

she climbed
i'd tremble from cold
and keep steady the end of the rope
while gazing at the familiar view under her nightgown

she'd land on the floor
of a consecutive place
and would carefully erase from her lips
my name
​

​

wh,
orig. 2004-12-22
tran. 2007-12-15

 

[Senna Jawa]

Comments are welcome. Thank you.

 

[twelveoone]

I've posted my original for instance here: (bezimienny nieistnieniowiec)

(nameless nonexister)

i was packing nights full of stars
into the bags under my eyes

the past six years birds from sky
fall down down like stones

in a nightgown only
she'd sneak from a place through window
--clouds were hurling themselves in the glassy wall--
down eighteen floors
and like nothing happened
she'd enter my basement through the door

she'd find me under seven comforters
higher than moon she'd peak
and cry
and leave

she climbed
i'd tremble from cold
and keep steady the end of the rope
while gazing at the familiar view under her nightgown

she'd land on the floor
of consecutive place
and would carefully erase from her lips
my name
​

​

wh,
orig. 2004-12-22
tran. 2007-12-1

Nice, first two lines are killer. like stones is rather stock,
...seven comforters
higher than moon she'd peak
very good.

And it is good to see you write more than two lines. And it leaves the 50% in.

but that is just my opinion

 

[twelveoone]

I would do something about the title

 

[Angeline]

I've posted my original for instance here: (bezimienny nieistnieniowiec)

(nameless nonexister)

i was packing nights full of stars
into the bags under my eyes

the past six years birds from sky
fall down down like stones

in a nightgown only
she'd sneak from a place through window
--clouds were hurling themselves in the glassy wall--
down eighteen floors
and like nothing happened
she'd enter my basement through the door

she'd find me under seven comforters
higher than moon she'd peak
and cry
and leave

she climbed
i'd tremble from cold
and keep steady the end of the rope
while gazing at the familiar view under her nightgown

she'd land on the floor
of consecutive place
and would carefully erase from her lips
my name
​

​

wh,
orig. 2004-12-22
tran. 2007-12-1

Senna, do you usually write in Polish and then translate? Do you find yourself avoiding words for which there isn't a true English translation? Or maybe with those words you translate as best you can and get unexpected poetry?

I recall that Lauren Hynde usually writes her first draft in Portuguese and then translates. Liar, I believe, usually writes first drafts in English (but he can correct me if I'm wrong).

Your poem is very beautiful, very moving. It makes me think somehow of a Chagall painting with the brilliant color and the women (brides often) flying through the night. And yet that is what my reader's imagination conjures. On the face of it your poem is very spare of "poetic" language though I wouldn't call it concrete in the sense of the haiku we've been discussing. What I like best is the very deceptive simplicity of the lines because they are just simple language by themselves but they can be read in the context of the lines and space before and after them in different ways. That's what I always like about your writing.

Other things maybe I could go into more detail in a bit, after I hear your reaction.

 

[Senna Jawa]

Senna, do you usually write in Polish and then translate?

When I write in English, then I compose the poem and write it in English only. When in Polish then in Polish. Some of my poems I have later translated in the one or the other direction. In at least one case the original in one language got lost and I ended up with the translation only.

There was a relatively short time when I was writing poems in both languages simultaneously; or rather they at first existed in me in a language free form, then I easily wrote them in both languages, so that I couldn't say which version was first, it didn't matter.

Here is my linguistic biography. My first 4 years I lived in Ural Mountains and in the central Ukraine. Russian was my only language. Both parents were working long hours, it was the wartime. Then we moved to Poland and suddenly I had to switch to Polish, just like that, I lost Russian. I almost had to repeat one school year because of that. Near the end of high school I got excellent mathematical books in Russian, and my Russian partially had returned to me. I wrote my first poem (for real) quite late, when I was 17 (I was natural with aphorisms though), Until 1981 I wrote poems exclusively in Polish, except for a few poems in Russian, in 1968 (the first one earlier, political). From 1981 until 1990 I wrote poems exclusively in English except for one series of poems in 1988. Because of the Polish Internet, I started to write poems also in Polish, but continued to write mostly in English until 1997. Then it was fifty-fifty but soon Polish took over. Since 2002 Literotica was both stimulating and suppressing my writing poems in English, it was more of the latter. I wanted, and still do, to write in English (if at all), I was sorry to lose contact with English. I just lost any enthusiasm. I wish I never touched poetry.

When I came to the US in 1969, I had no Polish-English-Polish dictionaries, I didn't use any. In my head, when I was speaking in English, I didn't form any Polish expressions or even words. If I couldn't say something in English then my mind was blank, I didn't have there any Polish word or phrase. In those days I was going to bed with heavy heart, thinking: oh, no, tomorrow morning I have to teach in English again.

After a couple of weeks of teaching, my students started to react to my jokes, they learned my English (I never had complains from students about my English, even if occasionally they would mention my accent; they would complain about other aspects of my teaching though, starting with my second semester). Once I had linguistic--so to speak--contact with my students, it was nicer. Then the next semester came and I was shocked when students were like stones again. Then I understood--oh, no, these are mainly new students, and I have to start the whole process anew; see four seasons (teacher).

I remember the first sign of making progress in English. I worked upstairs, in my apartment, with the window open, but children outside were chirping like birds and made it difficult to concentrate. It suddenly had dawned on me that it was hard so because I understood what they were saying, that in the past I would have no such problem.

Do you find yourself avoiding words for which there isn't a true English translation?

Never. When I write a poem, I write a poem, without any other thoughts.

Or maybe with those words you translate as best you can and get unexpected poetry?

I have translated only a few of my poems, in either direction. I did when a poem was easy to translate. On occasions I would take liberties (sometimes it helps to be the author). The translation difficulties occur in both directions, about equally. Some things come easy and natural in English, other in Polish.

Older languages, spoken by millions, differ one from another but on the total they are about equivalent in their ability to express things. English enjoys the opinion of being richer and more expressive than other languages but it is due to the fact that more work went into analysing and studying English language, and into writing English fat dictionaries, than into other languages. It is true however that in general English texts are shorter than texts in other European languages (you can see it at the airports or in the case of the instructions written in multiple languages).

One strong English poet claimed that I was getting an extra effect with my English (but he couldn't quite put his finger exactly on what it was). On the other hand jjwebb was getting almost angry whenever I mentioned my English; there was no issue for him, period.

It's possible that in English I am more me (exaggerated me).

I recall that Lauren Hynde usually writes her first draft in Portuguese and then translates. Liar, I believe, usually writes first drafts in English (but he can correct me if I'm wrong).

I don't write drafts. A poem starts either based on some melodic elements in a (single) language or abstractly in images and notions, without words. The main aspect of my poems is their mood (a friend after reading a series of my poor creatures said that my poems seem to be cheerful but are sad underneath).

Your poem is very beautiful, very moving. It makes me think somehow of a Chagall painting with the brilliant color and the women (brides often) flying through the night. And yet that is what my reader's imagination conjures.

Chagall!!! How could I not think about his name when the image is so Chagall?! Thank you Angeline. Hey guys, if you feel like it then try your hand at art, draw/paint/do graphics which would illustrate this poem.

I posted my text here at 7:55pm. By 8pm I was already with my father, who lives about 500 feet from me. I was in a hurry, and accidentally I have omitted words
"the rope" in line 8, which has enhanced the Chagallesque effect. (Angeline's post has my original translation, while my post has now the edited version).

On the face of it your poem is very spare of "poetic" language though I wouldn't call it concrete in the sense of the haiku we've been discussing. What I like best is the very deceptive simplicity of the lines because they are just simple language by themselves but they can be read in the context of the lines and space before and after them in different ways. That's what I always like about your writing.

Other things maybe I could go into more detail in a bit, after I hear your reaction.

I don't know what to say. I could pass one of the reactions from pl.hum.poezja. However it will be perhaps better to wait for the reactions here, including your eventual further observations and remarks.

Thank you, Angeline, warm regards,

 

[Senna Jawa]

I was in a hurry, and accidentally I have omitted words [...]

I also had accidentally repeated one word (that was awful! How nasty the randomness can get!!!) Now that repetition is edited out. Ooofffffff...

 

[Liar]

Liar, I believe, usually writes first drafts in English (but he can correct me if I'm wrong).

Yer not.



I like the poem, senna. Can't quite seem to connect the a) title and b) the second stanza with the rest though.

 

[Senna Jawa]

I like the poem, senna. Can't quite seem to connect the a) title and b) the second stanza with the rest though.

Amazing. But I am glad that you like my poem.

 

[Senna Jawa]

It's 7am here, and after sleepless night I am perhaps like drunk or stoned, so it is due to some lack of control that I will write more about my poem (nobody can hurt her/his poem as the author her/himself). I'll hopefully (and hopelessly ) answer Liar's question, and partially Angeline's.

In many poems you may see explanations inside of them, like "...was so tired that went to bed early" or "bought roses to please her". That's not poetry. The only explanations which are poetic are those which are unbelievable, like in legends and in old stories. In other words, when you poetically create world. For instance a famous Polish mountaineer (highlander) story teller explained how God has created woman. God cut of a piece of Adam's rib but a dog caught it and ran away. God was running with the knife still in His hand after dog, but all that God managed was to catch the dog's tail, without being able to actually catch the wiggling and still running dog for good. So, God said "I'll show you that I will make woman anyway" and He cut off the dog's tail and has created the woman from the dog's tail. God was almighty, and the dog was not able to stop God from attaining His goal.

But when you say that "John was late because he didn't know that his wristwatch was late"--that's junk, not poetry.

***

But you guys do not have this poetic wisdom in your bones and bloodstream. Do you? So, you are not used to the fact that plain cause-effect relations should be left to the reader or else you have garbage in your poem. Check them, the odds are that about every third of your poems has this kind of logic, which kills poetry.

Or check the poems recommended by LeBroz, and you will see (I hope).

***

O, sorry, I need some sleep after all.

Regards,

 

[Liar]

Amazing.

Only to someone who believes

a) he's incapable of miscommunication
or
b) others are incapable of misinepretation.

Take your pick. Personally I try to hold niether myself or my fellow man to that high standard. It's too damn trying in the long run.

At your humble service,
Liar the Amazor.

ps. Interresting twist on the blblical pass in that mountaineer story. Can't really say why, but it made me think of the Kalevala for some reason. Something in the... earthy humor of it.

 

[Senna Jawa]

ps. Interresting twist on the blblical pass in that mountaineer story.

I filled in a few more words.