and now he has moved on. a tribute to a poet, a national consciousness, a man who had barbs and a heart to love

he formed the definition of what poet is, in my world. and how to see the world. Imants Ziedonis. The Master of Clarity. Passed on to the next world on this day. i am happy he did. and i hurt, as a poet and as a latvian. let his journey be light. you will have […]

Read More and now he has moved on. a tribute to a poet, a national consciousness, a man who had barbs and a heart to love

a little experiment

there is something untranslatable about the latvian folk-song. so, mission impossible: translate one, so it makes sense. i’d value your input about whether it does or not. comments are open. 🙂 Teici, teici, valodiņa, Ko upīte burbulēja, Ko upīte burbulēja, Ko pogoja lakstīgal’! Kur upīte burbulēja, Tur uzplauka pumpuriņi: Kur ļautiņi klausījāsi, Tur valodas daudzināj’. […]

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a little bit about birds and gardens

this is a translation from “Dīvainā karaļvalsts” (The strange kingdom) by J. Rubenis. i kinda found it a little bit inspiring. especially the bird part. PUTNU SARUNA Reiz divi putni pils dārzā savā starpā sarunājās. “Bruņinieks saprot putnu valodu un ir nelaimīgs, jo viņš arī grib būt putns,” teica viens. “Vērojot putnus, viņš ir iemācījies […]

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three chrysanthemums in a vase/the roses are all wilted long ago;//do not come to me, seek me no more,/what has been, is all passed and gone there was a time when your eyes/held my gaze so tightly,//but now, in these dark autumn nights/all i have is a sad smile. she who comes first, will have […]

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Ziedonis and graveyard reform

Imants Ziedonis. Epifānijas. 1978. this is my contribution to this time of traditional latvian whatever they think is proper to do in the graveyards. a translation with some elements of adaptation, on the revelation of then and there, which somehow also is here and now. epiphanies rule. ================= Sometimes I feel graveyards need a reform. […]

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Promise remains promise

I promised I’d put this up. It is a translation of a Latvian tale by Karlis Skalbe. So, here it is: Tale of a Mouse A prince, whose bride had died on the wedding-day, was sitting at the table. He was dressed in gold. A red rose was his buttonhole, yet his heart had but […]

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