fs: Riga poems

The Estonian poet fs read several poems in my translation at a poetry event in Riga in 2004. Here are three of them:

*

we are all born in hospitals
long faded corridors
footsteps echo in the silence
the air is filled with the smell
of chlorine and medicines
the walls are steeped in sickness
our names are in the register
everything is under control
papers in the files
the files under lock and key
a guard at the entrance
today no one can get in
to see you
it's getting dark outside
behind the building the mortuary
get your feet off there
says the cleaner

*

these are not your hands, my dear
these are not your hands
turning the knobs of the radio
these are not your hands
that draw the curtains
that open the curtains
and aim a light in my face
these are not your hands
which press a gun into my hand
show me someone's picture
and push money into my pocket
these are not your warm hands
which touch my face
wake in the middle of the night
and lead in an unknown direction
these are cold hands that I feel
these are cruel hands
these are lifeless hands
that give life an aim

*

Tallinn

between the prison and the port
a nice view of the sea

Translated from Estonian by Eric Dickens

fs: two poems

The Estonian poet fs always writes his abbreviated name in small case letters. The name is derived from his original pseudonym François Serpent, his real name being Indrek Mesikepp. Born in 1971, he is now an established member of the Estonian world of poetry. Although the pseudonyms and indeed posed photos, often with dyed hair, make one think of the cliché of the Poet, fs's actual poetry is sober, sometimes melancholy and embedded in everyday life. He is something of a follower of the accomplished Estonian poet Juhan Viiding (1948-1995).

The two poems translated below were published in parallel text, Estonian-Russian, in Igor Kotjuh's translation in the 3/2007 issue of the Russian-language literary magazine or almanac Vozdushnyi zmei. Other Estonian poets translated for this issue included Jürgen Rooste, Aare Pilv, Doris Kareva and Elo Viiding.

PATRIOT

dear Estonian people
good Russian people
don’t hand me over
let me wander a while longer
through the Kristiine shopping mall
in the homely light of the
Prisma food shop
over the slightly dirty
flagged floor
among
the red crisp packets
spotted socks
exotic fruit
several types of salad
pots and pans
Eric Clapton albums
onions and bread
beer and fags
don’t throw me out onto the street
let me do a few more rounds
it’s dark on the street
as soon as I end up there
my mobile will ring
a girl from Scotland
will be crying into the receiver
promising to kill herself
or ruin my life
she’s asking for a chance
to show me something beautiful
give me a chance
it would be beautiful
she wants to go out with me
she’s clearly a nut
dear Estonian people
good Russian people
don’t hand me over to her
let me mooch around the shop
this shop is my homeland
when attacked
everyone becomes a patriot

*

***

I got back from another town
it was late
my head and body ached
I had gone away ill
I had been ill there
and on returning was no better
I ended up watching telly
a film began and ran
and ended
a new film began
I tried to get up and switch off
but I fell asleep
woke up before the end
a large stadium
full of folks
a sniper was killing people
I lay there in bed
no it wasn’t the other way round
he was shooting
I lying there
yep
always the same
yes always the same

*

Translated from Estonian by Eric Dickens