Peter and Deníz Zollman
No sooner back than away again. Tomorrow evening there is the evening for Peter Zollman at the Hungarian Cultural Centre in Maiden Lane, at 7pm, with the Hungarian writer, Mátyás Sárközi (no relation to the French ex-president) and the poet / translator Stephen Watts, who worked with Peter on The Audit is Done, a bilingual selection of Peter's translations.
On Friday evening to take part in the Asymptote evening on translation at 6:30 at The Free Word Centre, 60, Farringdon Road, which should be lively and fun and part of Asymptote's world tour. See Facebook for masses more. And there's the launch trailer
I am trying to perfect the art of perpetual motion while reading PhD dissertations, correcting proofs, answering letters and writing references.
Plus the poems and other texts. Here is Child Helga, Waking.
CHILD HELGA WAKING
1.
Where are my eyes, asked Child Helga. Down the rabbit hole where the light takes shelter, said her father.
2.
What is a river, asked Child Helga. Time drifting towards sleep, said her father.
3.
What are my ears for, asked Child Helga. For hearing the gaps between words and letting them settle, said her father.
4.
What is grief, asked Child Helga. Leaves on the path, said her father. The dog at the door.
5.
What is decay, asked Child Helga. Newsprint blown along the shore, the waves lapping at the pebbles, said her father.
6.
What is that noise, asked Child Helga. The moon muttering curses behind clouds, said her father.
7.
What is an image, asked Child Helga. My shadow on the wall beside you talking to you, said her father.
8.
What is sleep, asked Child Helga. The road up a mountain you can't see, said her father.
9.
What is guilt, asked Child Helga. The mud on your shoe screaming blue murder, said her father.
10.
What is perfection, asked Child Helga. The pillow at right angles to the night, said her father.
Thus pass my days in the empire.
1 comment:
G,
looks you forgot to mention CH in no. 5.
G.
-ps I like these the best.
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