MOMENTS OF TRANSLATION

Uuno Kailas (1901 -1933)

Paljain jaloin
Bosih nog
translated by Kaneli

Niin mä kerran
Tako nekoč
tieni aloin
začel sem pot
niin mä kuljen:
tako hodim:
paljain jaloin.
bosih nog.

Avohaavat
Žive rane
syvät näissä
njih globoke
ammottavat
odpirajo
kantapäissä:
se v pete:

rystysihin
not v členke
joka kiven
vsakter' kamen
jäänyt niist' on
od njih ostal
verta hiven.
je del krvi.

- Mutta niinkuin
-A kot tako
matkan aloin,
začel sem pot,
päätän myös sen:
jo končam še:
paljain jaloin.
bosih nog.

Silloinkin, kun
Tudi kadar
tuska syvin
bol globoko
viiltää, virkan:
reže, kriknem:
- Näin on hyvin.
- To je dobro.

Tapahtukoon
Naj zgodi se
tahtos sinun,
želja tvoja,
Kohtaloni,
Moja usoda,
eikä minun
in ne moja.

MIELIHÄIRIÖ

- Istun Lutakossa, juon mansikkasiideria, en ole koskaan maistanut mansikkasiideria, se maistuu oudolta.
- Tahdon kirjoittaa jotakin kaunista. Tahtoessani tiedän, että se tuli on jo hävinnyt, kun aloitan kirjoittamisen.
- Olen humalassa, en jaksa enää ja en puhu totta.
- Menin Lutakkoon kuunnellakseni Rytmihäiriötä.
- Menin Lutakkoon rautatieaseman kautta. Juuri silloin saapui juna Turusta.
- Jos näet hänet, niin kerro hänelle minun kuulleen kaikki ne bändit, joista hän oli kertonut mulle kauan sitten.
- Kuulin myös ne bändit, joista silloin hän ei ollut kertonut. Luullakseni hänkin näki ne liveinä.
Ja:

- Olen alkanut kuunnella hardcorea hänen vuoksi.
- En todellakaan ole alkanut kuunnella hardcorea vain hänen vuoksi, olen aina tykännyt siitä.
- Mulla on ollut päänsärkyjä jo pari viikkoa.
- Mulla on ollut jotakin sellaista kuin masennus, ja se on ärsyttävä.
- Näyttää siltä, että ihmisten on helppoa unohtaa.
Ja:
- Olen lihonut.
- Olen iloinen kasvissyöänä.
- Mulle kuuluu ihan hyvää.
Ja:
- En toivo enää.
- En toivo mitään enää.

THE T-SHIRT POEM

Some poetic moments again. Yet there is an important fact about this particular poem. Despite it is all about the T-shirt, I wrote the lines into my mobile phone. I do not know how exactly writing poems into a mobile affects the poetry itself, but nevertheless...

So many times I wear this T-shirt
Which I had when I hugged you for the last time
I do not care your body touched it
Your hands caressed its cotton surface
Band T-shirt it is
I wear it when I go to gigs alone
I do not care we hugged for the last time
When I was in this T-shirt
I did not put it away
I really like this T-shirt
There are traces of you still on it
I do not give a fuck
But wait a minute, o shit, perhaps I do
Too much

REFLECTIONS OF AUTUMN

Silent lies the lake, beyond all world it lies the world itself. Silent it lies in stillness, there is no time, and yet there is. Silent lies the lake, the mirror-water, always the same and yet each moment different...

A year has passed since this blog has started. Many things have changed. Some things have vanished into time and memory, vanished forever. Some of the readers do not read me no longer, some new have come. So it is. The lake stands still and silent, all happiness as well as all sorrows are just a passing-by reflection. Brief moments in eternity. And the lake stands still again...

Small photographic exhibition from Korpilahti surroundings, dedicated to the first autumn day - and to the nature itself.

Dear friends and fellow bloggers, have a nice autumn!

REFLECTIONS

GHOSTS OF THE CITY

Her city has become too full of memories. There are places memories have stuck on. As ghosts memories dwell on those spots. Places in her own city she would not visit again. Spots she avoids to pass by. Yet she has to, sometimes, as there is no other way or option. Then, the ghosts awake and start to invade her as she passes by. Thus, she tries to rush, she does not look around at those spots. The ghosts spread melancholy anyway; still she cannot avoid them.

She has noticed those ghosts years ago. But it was fine with her. Just a sting in her hart it was, nothing more, when she passed the places by. She got used to small stings in her hart; perhaps she did not even feel them no longer. Nevertheless it happened so that one day, there was just too many of those places. Events, connected to those places were just too important for her. Events, people, faces, things like that. Stalking her, whispering her, looking her quietly from thin air, repeating actions again and again. Too many ghosts.

To go. To move herself. Yes, she has to do it. She has to leave her home town, too full of memories. Start a new life somewhere away. No memories; of course some will follow her, but they might not be that strong anymore. Just some small stings from one distant place she would not care about. Eventually, she will forget. Ghosts will disappear.

Her new city. With no intimate history. She can visit all the bars, she can eat in all restaurants, she can go wherever she wants. Life moves on. Yet at one point... and this is what bothers her. At one point, things will start to change again. Memories will start to pile; she knows that more than well. First, there will be small stings only. But later... stings will grow. Into ghosts. Again. New ghosts of the new city.

Would she run away again? Away from her new city, away from her new life, away from those new ghosts that might appear. How many cities would she thus leave behind? What can she do, eh?

Some memories within intimate history are indeed too hard to deal with. An overall change might help. New events might fill the void with unknown joy. Old ghosts might transform into more pleasant images. Those new possible ghosts she might be even able to fight with much more courage.

It is her inner growth that will transform the ghosts. Here, anywhere. For sure, there is always herself she cannot escape from.

DROWSY

Some months ago, I was crying there is no proper work for me. These days, I have so much to do. Work, I mean. Well, sure I should be writing something else right now, not this blog... Yet I have nice writer's block at the moment; I am trying to get rid of it here. And I will fetch some chocolate latter. I guess there is still one with vanilla liqueur filling somewhere... However, this sort of artsy life of mine seems ironical. Either there is nothing at all. Either there is a pile of things and projects at once.

This week, I have been browsing through my old files. I have found this poem I have written a couple of months ago. I don't know, I think I could do it better. And yes, I felt shitty while writing. Whatever. It is a poem I have written after a long no-writing-poems time. So, here it is.

Drowsy I try to grasp reality
In my mouth, strange words as stones
In my eyes, dear friends as vultures
Drowsy I try to grasp reality
Shadows of my mind, decaying
Images of distant me, dissolving
The real me I have never been
Drowsy I try to grasp reality
Dreams of frozen happiness
Euphoric sleep of craziness
Awaking, awaking, awaiting
Drowsy I try to grasp reality
There is the waste land I should walk
Vulture-like shadow I should stalk
Pursue the path of perished past
Hallucinations that will blast
Inside my head as blissful nothing
Drowsy I try to grasp reality
Me, just hopeless case of change

THE GATELESS GATE

19. Ordinary Mind Is the Way

Joshu asked Nansen: "What is the Way?" Nansen answered: "Ordinary mind is the Way." Joshu said: "How can I find it?" Nansen replied: "The more you seek, the more it slips away." Joshu insisted: "How can I find the Way if I am not supposed to seek?" Nansen responded: "The Way you seek is not a matter of knowledge or non-knowledge. Knowledge is illusion; non-knowledge is confusion. When you have really reached the true Way beyond doubt, you will be boundless and clear as the summer sky. Therefore do not ask which way is the right and which way is the wrong one; there is neither good nor bad way.

With these words, Joshu was enlightened.

MUMON'S COMMENT: Nansen was trying hard, yet he was not able to melt the ice of Joshu’s doubt. Regardless the enlightenment, Joshu will require thirty more years to exhaust that meaning.

The spring flowers, the autumn moon;
Summer breezes, winter snow.
If useless things do not clutter your mind,
You have the best days of your life.

LEMMINKÄINEN

After the graduation, I have to fight my emptyness. So I will keep writing. Today, I will write on a beloved story that has inspired my new graduation play quite strongly. Here is a painting Lemminkäisen äiti (Lemminkäinen's Mother) by famous Finnish artist Akseli Gallen-Kallela dating back to 1897. On it, one can see Lemminkäinen, a young and handsome hero. His mother, äiti, has had to travel all the way to Tuonela, the land of the dead, to fetch the body of her son from the river Tuoni. Young Lemm has actually been choped into pieces. With the great strength and effort, the mother manages to put the body of her son together. Finally, she brings Lemm back to life!

The motive of Lemminkäinen's mother is probably the most famous motive from the Finnish national lay Kalevala. Click the title to check out the exact rune in English. Lemm's restoration reveals a rebirth of the dead one. The rebirth done through a non-selfish sacrifice of the loving Other; the mother in Lemm's case. Great story, full of hope. The healing power of pure love, no matter how sweet and romantic this seems.

Some time ago a friend very dear to me has given me a postcard. It is clear enough the photo you can observe here is a remake of Gallen-Kallela's Lemminkäisen äiti. Also something this photo-remake has brought to my mind. Once I have got this idea and so I have written a poem in Finnish. Uusi Lemminkäinen (New Lemminkäinen). The theme of the photo as it would resemble my poem just perfectly. When I was given the card I was quite excited. I told to Kalle about the poem, yet I have never given it out to read. So here it is now. I guess I will not be given any other opportunities to publish my poetry in Finnish here in my own country, right? Though I might translate it one day.

The poem has been written on a very early stage of my Finnish lessons. That was also the time I was deeply in writing my new play. Anyway, I hope there is not like lots of mistakes in the text. For all of the readers that do not understand Finnish - well, this is how suomi looks like in a longer poem-wannabe, hehe. And yes, Lemm's story here is told more bitterly as in the great Kalevala original. Now just figure it out...

UUSI LEMMINKÄINEN

Musta joki virtaa keskellä mustaa maata.
Kauan kävelin mustan joen rannalle.
Tiedätkö, musta joki, ketä etsin tätä,
Näitkö hänet keskellä mustaa maata.
’’Kyllä, vieras, tunnen ketä etsit tätä,
Näin hänet keskellä mustaa maata.
Kauan katsoi hän mustalle rannalle,
Ei nähnyt hän käärmettä keskellä vettä.
Hyppäsi se iso käärme mustasta vedestä.
Mene, vieras, olet tässä turhaan; hän ei enää elä.’’
Kiitos, musta joki, kiitos vastauksesta.
Voisitko antaa kuolleen rummiin minulle.
’’Kyllä, vieras, ota hänet, ota kylmän rummiinsa.’’
Niin nousee kuollut rummiinsa mustasta vedestä,
Niin on hänen kuolleensa mustalla rannalla.
Kauan katson häntä; hän on kuin kylmä kivi;
Kauan rakastin sitä kylmää kiviä
Elä, rakas kuolleeni, mustassa vedessä!
Menen mielelläni mustasta maasta,
Kuolleeni vielä elää keskellä mustaa jokia.

HAIKUHETKI

Keltaiset lähdet
Unohdin minut
Tiella

Zlato listje
Pozabila sem se
Na poti

EGOTRIP

Ice-cube
No matter how soft I feel myself - I always hit the ground as a cube of ice.

Plays
Would I write such plays if the world would be better as it is in the plays? I guess I would write different plays. What the fuck, the world is as my plays are mirroring it.
Hei, why do I stil wonder?

Trying hard

I don't know. I guess, in this world as it it, it does not count if one is trying hard, doing her/his best.
Trying hard counts as nothing.
Those who win seem not so trying-hard.
Or am I still not trying hard enough? Or am I trying hard in a wrong way...
Se on minulle herttaisen yhdentekevää!

Being right
Maybe I sometimes happen to know/feel the truth.
Tiedän olevani oikeassa!

Lonelyness
Yes, I have friends. Very good, great friends. Yes, I do go out. Still - I feel so fucking lonely these days. Different kind of lonelyness this is, no doubt.

Fed up
With everything. Not feel like explaining this into details.

Chocholate
Big Fazer with mint crisps.
Maailman paras suklaa.

Animal Planet
I have not been able to sleep very well last days. This is what I watch late at night. Yesterday, there was some stuff about polar bears. And there is some very stupid American show, the Planet's Funniest Animals. Those pets are just nevrotic! And then, there was this guy with tamed moose. The moose was walking peacefully around the house; it actually went to sleep on the bed. Insane.

I am
I am what I am. This is what I am.
I walk some way, though.

This is my egotrip.

And there is some moose shit on the photo.