Wednesday, 7 September 2011

Eyewitness to C.O. HULTÉN


by Pia Tafdrup

Your earth is a space
  for horror and revolt.
Your house is built from force and gravity,
  so you easily get lost,
it has more than a thousand entrances.
Your mind in storms has even more,
when it burns all the bridges 
or hungers for life.
Not to speak of the dreams,                 
which in the living grow and search
for beauty, send out
  new roads
from memory's labyrinths.
Colours rumble
- Flame yellow, rust red and royal blue -
like African drums
in tears and laughter.
It is NOW
  that matters.
Earth is a space
  for horror and revolt,
but Europe is a dancing woman.
There are also forest women 
  and demons’ games.
And the city's lonely woman who kisses
  a bird.
The bird has swallowed a fish,
it swims at its full length
  in the bird's belly,
both free and trapped.
Birds are seen in flight, alone and in flocks,    
seen in battle, seen in plunging
into the dream-lake, from which eyes staring up
between submerged leaves
and drowned insects.
Staring up at cockleshells  
floating like heavenly bodies  
on the night sky between   
lovers' wing-beats,             
their rhythm forward through the air
  to meet.     
Fabulous creatures, doomed to an eternal dream journey
in a space that opens 
febrile on all sides, transforms itself
into all colours, in deep secrecy opens a heart.


ØJENVIDNE TIL C.O. HULTÉN
 
 
Din jord er et rum
   for rædsel og revolte.
Dit hus er bygget af kraft og tyngde,
   så du let farer vild,
har mere end tusinde indgange.
Dit sind i uvejr endnu flere,
når det brænder alle broer
   eller hungrer efter liv.
For ikke at tale om drømmene,
der i den levende vokser og søger
efter skønhed, skyder
   nye veje
fra erindringens labyrinter.
Farver buldrer
- ildgul, rustrød og kongeblå -
som afrikanske trommer
i gråd og latter.
Det er NU,
   det gælder.
Jorden er et rum
   for rædsel og revolte,
men Europa er en dansende kvinde.
Også skovkvinder findes
   og dæmoners spil.
Og byens ensomme kvinde, der kysser
   en fugl.
Fuglen har slugt en fisk,
den svømmer i sin fulde længde
   i fuglens bug,
både fri og fanget.
Fugle ses i flugten, alene og i flok,
ses i kampen, ses i styrtet ned
i drømmesøen, hvorfra øjne stirrer op
mellem sunkne blade
og druknede insekter.
Stirrer op på muslingeskaller
svævende som himmellegemer
mellem planeter på nattehimlen,
mellem elskendes vingeslag,
deres rytme frem gennem luften
   for at mødes.
Fabelvæsner, dømt til evig drømmerejse
i et rum, der åbner sig febrilt
til alle sider, transformerer sig
i alle farver, i al hemmelighed åbner et hjerte.
 

translated from Danish by David McDuff

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