Susan Birkeland

Today it is sure Susan Birkeland's poetry will be included in the 2nd European Festival of Poetry. Her sister Deborah, kindly granted us permission. A first poem and its translations.

 

City Of Love

Sing to me from budding trees

Carry on and carry less
O My City

O My Lover

A hometown that needs no defenses?
Love without envy?
An easy life?
A happy death?

Know these blue skies and clean water
for every thirsty foreign child
friends of friends I've never met
smiling fat girls and
uncles in freedom's lucky trance.

Mercy stands by the road
drawing circles in the dry red earth
with the corner of his soft boot.

My father is an optimist.
My mother, slow and old and practical.

What holds us together.

City of Love
The Return of Mercy

Some day.

Some say.

Some do say.

©Susan Birkeland

Fom Susan Birkeland's new chapbook of poetry and drawings titled "The Bruised Angel Almanac"

*

Stadt von Liebe

Sing zu mir aus Blüten sprießend Bäumen

Mach weiter und weniger kümmern

Oh du meine Stadt

Oh meine Liebe

Eine Heimat, die keine Verteidigung braucht?

Liebe ohne Neidgefühl?

Ein leichtes Leben?

Ein glücklicher Tod?

Kenne diesen blauen Himmel und klar Wasser

für jedes durstig’ fremdes Kind

Freunde von Freunden ich habe nie getroffen

lächelnde dicke Mädchen und

Onkel in der Freiheit glücklicher Trance.

Der Gnadenmann steht an der Straße

zeichnet Kreise in die trocken rote Erde

mit der Ecke seines leichten Stiefels.

Mein Vater ist ein Optimist.

Meine Mutter, langsam und alt und praktisch.

Was uns zusammenhält.

Stadt von Liebe

Die Rückkehr vom Gnadenmann

Eines Tages.

Sagen manche.

Einige sagen das.

Translation: Fred Schywek

*

Stad van Liefde

Zing tot me uit bottende bomen

Draaf door en draaf minder        

Oh Mijn Stad

Oh Mijn Geliefde

Een thuishaven die geen verdediging behoefd?    

Liefde zonder afgunst?

Een gemakkelijk leven?

Een gelukkige dood?

Ken deze blauwe luchten en schoon water

Voor elk dorstig vreemd kind

Vrienden van vrienden die ik ooit ontmoette

Glimlachende dikke meisjes en

Ooms in de gelukkige trance van vrijheid.

De man van mededogen staat langs de weg

tekent cirkels in de droge rode aarde

met de hoek van zijn zachte laars.

Mijn vader is een optimist.

Mijn moeder, traag en oud en praktisch.

Wat ons samen houdt.

Stad van Liefde

De terugkeer van de man van mededogen

Ooit.

Zo zegt iemand.

Iemand zegt ooit.

Translation: Annmarie Sauer

 

2nd European Festival of Poetry, 2011

Note the 17th of September in your diaries: That is the day you can come to the Permeke library in Antwerp to enjoy the poets, performers, musicians and singers. The program is coming together nicely. The performances are finding their level, how to show and let hear what we want to communicate. Poets from five countries will be present. Some poets you might have met and heard last year and that would be an occasion to get reacquainted with them and some are first timers and not of the least.  We'll be honoring a few Grandes Dames of poetry who turn 70 and 75 this year. 7 of the poets come from outside of Belgium: 3 from The Netherlands, 2 from Germany, 1 from France and one from the US. Although work of more than one American poet will be read  and performed.
So note the date: September 17, 8 PM.

As an appetizer a short poem by Sherman Alexie from one of the main features of the festival:The sounds of harbour, the upcoming third volume in this series: Harbors of the West.

Migration, 1902

The salmon swim

so thick in this river

that Grandmother walks

across the water

on the bridge

of their spines.

*

Migratie, 1902

De zalm zwemt zo

dicht op elkaar in deze rivier

dat Grootmoeder over

het water loopt

op de brug

van hun rug.

 

With permission of Hanging Loose Press