On Poetry
Notes:
Jānis Rainis is a Latvian poet
In Soviet hard labor camps,guards often removed buttons and fasteners from prisoners’ clothing. (note for “Button”)
Latvian Feature
more poetry
Knuts Skujenieks
from“Collected Works” Book I
INTERTWINED
When people shall read this bitter intertwining
these words notcalled nor begged for
and think of what created them
whom willthey reflect more? You or me?
when people shall think of a soul solonely
who even powerless can light up a sunbeam
should they sayfine the world still has sunbeams
will they know what feeds thesunbeam?
I myself don’t know my beloved
you the distant hollowsound of a bell
I don’t know but I sense you
and send anotherline on paper
you tremble like air from the flutter of wings
over my hopes and my sadness
we may separate like low clouds
butwe don’t wake cold and estranged
for others we may deny eachother
but we don’t pass each other by
we may be bitter aboutlife’s betrayal
but we’re chained not only by love
from commonrefuse we burn the same fire
from a common spiritual fiber
ifyou should tire know that people will read
again and again ask forthe sunbeam
and intertwined we are related
I sing of you whileyou lead me
your breath in each letter
half of it me
A WORD IS A WORD
I’m not conquerable I’m not destroyable in the open
field trampledcursed and spat on
don’t look at my bones that ever slower
walkunder my skin but if you wish to look perhaps
this is a lessonlisten to my words listen
listen hear listen again but listen
because my words are my work and other work I don’t have
I won’thave
a battle in life in which I’ll be the loser because
I don’thave either a bayonet or war ruse only words
I place in the centerin the most open place to root after
a year or two hundred what doesit matter? if right now or
after seven ounces of sweat what does itmatter?
my bones aren’t worth a penny because I have words andthey’re
not janis’ peter’s or knuts skujenieks words these WORDSare
human
if you want to look balance bones onelbows or
put your foot in front but a word is a word evenforgotten
it leaves echoes in the forest circles in water andpeoples’
discord with life and themselves
even the most vulgarword the most bitter word is human
not for me to know nor you wherethese words come from
or where they go to
and our lack ofknowledge keeps us alive indebted to death
our being
so listenhear beside me root
and you shall not be conquered
IF WE
don’t search for the world’s guilt
don’t expect the bloody comet
the comet won’t help us
friends will still bedestroyed
revenge will still be the enemies’
but we’ll still bein the middle
only the comet’s tail will pierce our hearts
butwe’ll still be in the middle
and the world will still be notgood not evil
neither cold nor hot without shame without honour
let’s leave the sheets in the bed white
let’s not prepare to beblown into air
the comet shall return to its parabola
butwe’ll still be in the middle
on the bridge
if we haven’tprepared our floodlights
for each to return to his own parabola
and the world will stand still mindless and clueless
and we’llstill be empty on an empty bridge
with a comet’s tail piercing ourhearts
if we won’t blow ourselves up into our air
if weourselves won’t go through our hearts
the comet will remain just anempty newspaper page
to be torn in four and placed in a toilet
friends will still be destroyed
revenge still will be the enemies’
let’s not wait
A WORD WITHOUT A WORD
from the center from silence
from the very core
may it reach youand sink
in the deepest sense
after which I’ll start to say
before which I’ll stop to say
theword I forever search for
and never shall say
A BUTTON
Like a cherry tree that saves at its crest
Its last remaining fruit—
That’s how I save my tattered shirt
Its one and onlybutton.
When souvenirs and hope are lost
When the burdengrows too heavy
I finger on my chest the button
You’ve sewnon.
In spite of years and hungers
In spite of snow and sleep
You’vemended my threadbare life
With strands of love and eternity
Day wins over night. I gaze
Into the one and only window. Bright.
Not the window. But on my chest
Life burning, your button.
AT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD
Il n’y aplusrien de moi
Et ceux quicraignent les brulüres. . .
—GuillaumeApollinaire
This is the last barricade, firing line, red zone.
acrossit
we no longer shall stand hand in hand
neither friend nordeputy or drinking pal.
This the last day, last sentence, lastchance.
On the boundary the word we shall burn.
The word youwon’t make it through fire.
Only they will remain.
Tonight let’s sit on our baggage of reason,
on the backpacks of oursense of honor
let’s count the small change of our life
neededto reach our destination — or return.
Let’s sit together till the morning.
Untitled
In some century, some legend
was there an evening, swamplike andsilent?
June warmth and lip warmth?
A last bus?
Asit’s written: year after year. . .
Sod turned over sod . . .
Insome poem even to this day
does a loon cut across some heart?
In some country, some cultural dig
was there a camp calledhome?
a last bus,
a girl barefoot?
WINTER EVENING
with both feet planted into the horizon
a red rider wanders
visibly ages
fades faster than a flower
Oh!
he doesn’t know how to talk to people
Oh!
the horsedoes not recognize him
Oh!
Hearts
seeing the rider
slowly slowly tear
LIU SHIKUN’S HANDS
Tu tasnebiji, kas bija Ķīnā…
(You werenot the one who was in China. . .)
Jānis Rainis*
This story is short.
They broke the hands
of thepianist.
Broke them
in the name of World Revolution
and for the sake of a Bright Future.
They say,
if gods areto be fed
there must be a sacrifice.
And the pianist’s
broken hands
the only proof of loyalty
if a human can everpledge loyalty
to a voracious god.
Even though I’m not
either Chinese
or the pianist
LiuShikun,
I know a thing or two
about idols
and idolatry.
Untitled
I can’t
My heart grows soft like a horse’s muzzle.
My heart begsfor bread
from the open palm of a friend.
The heart wants
tobe slapped a bit
once again to be strong.
I too am only aliving creature
I need
my small place in the sun.
Ican’t
I don’t have a place in the sun.
Across my heart cracks
A
W
H
I
P
My eyes fill with blood
my head full of evil thoughts
andmy heart
grits strong, fierce teeth
yes
I can
but this isno longer my heart
Translated by Margita Gailitis
