EN / SLO

Esa Hirvonen

1969, Finland

Born in 1969 in Turku in Finland. He is a poet, translator, editor and publisher. His poems were translated into English, Estonian and Udmurtian languages. He is a board member of Southwest Finland’s authors association, the chairman of Poetry Week association, as well as a performer and producer of many poetry happenings, some of those involved with multi-art and international co-operation. Has also worked as a chef and a journalist. He published four books of poetry and was included in various anthologies.

AIYAH LEH, KUIN KAIKKI OLISI JO OHI

Voi Englanti sinun menetettyä imperiumiasi, Intian maustekauppaa,
liao lah, kaikkia kadonneita jumalia, Liverpoolin hittejä
Stonehengen kivet, paljon nähneet, ovat vain kiviä,
missä ovat sinun profeettasi
puhuvat singlishiä nyt lalalaa ja halajavat curryä,
manglishia he laulavat, shilalaa

Voi kelttejä, iirejä, kun anglosakseista suurin,
David Beckham vetää yläkulmaan, mummo on vain lätkässä, mitä tapahtuu kielelle,
kalalle ja perunoille, voi Irlanti perunoitasi ja itsenäisyyttäsi, Stout ja Black Irish,
kuka heitti ensimmäisen pommin, voi minua kun niin itsevarmana opettelin kielesi
olisi pitänyt lopettaa psykedeelit jo silloin: heresceafta heap?
Ic eom Hroðgares ar ond ombiht. Ne seah ic elþeodige!
þus manige men modiglicran, ovatpa muukalaiset oudolla tuulella...

Mistä puhutaan Lontoon metrossa, ostereista tabascon vai sitruunan kanssa ellei minttuhyytelössä, Victoria Station öisin, vippaa punta lähde pohjoiseen,
Beowulf tilaa kebabin, satatuhatta didgeridoota muistelee nuoruuttasi, Oh-Ha,
Oi loputtomat (yorkshirepudding) vehreät niittysi ja pelokkaat lampaasi,
villan kauneus ja tämä yö, kun auton hajottua kävelemme kohti Loftusta,
Durhamin Shakepeare-pubissa odottava piiskatyttö, kahleet kassissani,
kil-kal, voi jos tämä olisi unta, kaikki säkeet, Tanskan kuningas Christianiassa rypee mansikkakentillä ja mustikkakukkuloilla eikä mieti, Aiyah,
cannot wait any no more, must go oreddy,

Voi Hadrianus sinun kylpyläsi kesti kauemmin kuin muurisi ja
edelleen täällä kitataan alea, ei Litina Barbera d´Asti Superiorea,
ja voi minua, jota viedään Leijonaan ja Papukaijaan selviämään,
þus manige men modiglicran, kaikkia rakkaitani, jotka ovat minut unohtaneet,
Aiyah, nauha juoksee jo, levytän selälläni, Abbey Road kutsuu jo, must go oreddy,
mitä meistä jää jäljelle, urheatkin pelkäävät jo Aiyah leh, rummuttakaa lisää, sillä tänä yönä  tuhlaan viimeisen tonnini ja palaan Suomeen...


 
ENGLISH:

AIYAH LEH

Oh England your lost empire, Indian spice trade,
liao lah, all the long gone gods, Liverpool hits
stones of Stonehenge have seen a lot, still staying stoned,
where are your prophets now
they speak singlish now lalalaa and long for curry,
manglish they sing shilalaa

Oh Celts, Eires, when the greatest of anglosaxons, David Beckham scores
and walks alone, what happens to the language, fish and chips,
oh Ireland your potatoes and independence, stout and black Irish,
who threw the first bomb, oh me who so self sure studied your language
should have stopped psychedelics back then o´reddy: heresceafta heap?
Ic eom Hroðgares ar ond ombiht. Ne seah ic elþeodige!
þus manige men modiglicran, are the strangers in an odd mood...

Whatever they talk about in the London Underground, oysters with tabasco,
lemon or even mint jelly, Victoria Station by night, bum a dime, go North,
Beowulf orders kebab, a hundred thousands didgeridoos memorise your youth, oh-ha, oh endless (Yorkshire pudding) green meadows and scary sheep,
beauty of the wool and this night, when we walk from the moors to Loftus,
whip girl waiting in The Shakespeare pub in Durham City, chains in my bag,
kil-kal, oh if this could all be just a dream, King of Denmark in Christiania
lies on strawberry fields and blueberry hills and does not think, aiyah,
cannot wait any no more, must go o´reddy.

Oh Hadrianus your spa lasted longer than your wall
and still they drink ale here, not Litina Barbera d´asti Superiore
and oh me, who is taken to the Lion and Parrot to sober up,
þus manige men modiglicran, all my loved ones, who have forgotten me,
aiyah, tape is running o´reddy, I´m recording on my back now,
Abbey Road is calling, must go o´reddy, what are we leaving behind us,
even the brave ones are afraid now, aiyah leh, gimme more drum,
cause tonight I´ll drink my last grand and return to Finland....


V SLOVENŠČINI:

AIYAH LEH

O, Anglija, tvoj izgubljen imperij, Indijska trgovina z začimbami,
lia lah, vse te nekdanje dobrote, Liverpool udari
kamnite klade Stonehenga so veliko videle, še vedno so kamnite,
kje so zdaj tvoji preroki,
zdaj govorijo singleško lalalaa in hrepenijo po kariju,
v mangleščini pojejo shilalaa

O Kelti, Eiri, ko največji od Saksoncev, David Beckman zadene gol
in hodi sam, kaj se zgodi z jezikom, fish and chips,
o, Irska, tvoji krompirji in neodvisnost, temno irsko pivo,
kdo je prvi vrgel bombo, o, jaz, ki sem samozavestno študiral vaš jezik,
bi takrat moral nehati jemati psihadelike o´reddy: heresceafta heap?
Ic eom Hroðgares ar ond ombiht. Ne seah ic elþeodige!
þus manige men modiglicran, so tujci v starem razpoloženju.

O čemerkoli govorijo na Londonski podzemni železnici, ostrige s tabaskom,
limona ali celo mentin žele, postaja Victoria ponoči, vrzi kovanec, pojdi proti severu,
Beowulf je naročil čevapčiče, sto tisoč didžeridujev si je zapomnilo mojo mladost, oh-ha,
o, neskončni (Yorkshirski puding) zeleni travniki in grozljive ovce,
lepota volne in ta noč, ko prehodiva pot od močvirij do Loftusa,
z bičem udari dekle, ki čaka v Shekespearian pub v Durham Cityju, verige v moji torbi,
ki-kal, o, ko bi vse to bile lahko samo sanje, kralj Danske v Christianii
leži na jgodnih poljih in borovničastih hribih in nič ne misli, aiyah,
ne more več čakati, mora oditi o'reddy.

O Hadrijan, tvoje toplice so preživele tvoj zid
in tu še vedno pijejo ale, ne pa Latina Barbera d'asti Superiore
in oh, jaz, ki so me odpeljali k Lion and Parrot, da se streznim,
þus manige men modiglicran,, vsi moji ljubljeni, ki ste me pozabili,
aiyah, trak teče o'reddy, kaj puščamo za sabo,
celo najbolj junaški se zdaj bojijo, aiyah leh, daj, okrepi bobne,
kajti to noč bom zapil še zadnje ostanke štipendije in se vrnil na Finsko

Prevedel Iztok Osojnik.


PINGVIINIT

Eksymme ensimmäisenä päivänä.
Ystävälliset herrasmiehet syrjäiseltä kujalta
tahtovat ehdottomasti opastaa,
kapakassa päät kääntyvät,
naiset ihmettelevät keitä me olemme,
äijät vilkaisevat kerran
ja keskittyvät African Cupiin,
on tärkeä peli Kamerunia vastaan.
En ole koskaan tuntenut itseäni
näin valkoiseksi.

Visiting without a companion would be foolish.
If a black friend is happy to escort you,
you should have no problems.

Heitän jalattomalle kerjäläiselle pari randia,
kun kymmenes heppu tulee kertomaan,
että me ollaan hyviä tyyppejä,
mutta kaikki muut haluavat ryöstää teidät
en enää uskalla jättää tyttöäni
yksin pöytään
vaikka rakko on täynnä.

Vähän aikaa sitten kaikki
olivat Kapkaupungin orjia.
Nyt rakennetaan naisten työkeskuksia,
Mary auttaa hostellillaan koko korttelia,
100 000 asuntoa kodittomille,
Mandelan suosikkikokki kouluttaa
työttömiä Kapin turistirafloihin.

Khayelitsha, Guguletu, Katutura.
Kaikki toivovat parempaa huomista
ja siinä välissä yrittävät selvitä.
Ambotaksissa soi vihainen rap.
meitä katsotaan kuin
Simon´s Townin pingviinejä.


ENGLISH:

PENGUINS

We get lost on the first day.
Friendly gentlemen from a remote alley
want so desperately to guide us.
Heads are turning at the bar,
the females wonder who we are,
the lads take only one look
and concentrate on the African cup,
an important game against Cameroon.
I´ve never felt myself
so white.

"Visiting without companion would be foolish.
If a black friend is happy to escort you,
you should have no problems."

I give a couple of rands to a legless beggar,
when the tenth guy comes to tell me that
"we are good people, but all the others
in this bar wnts to rob you".
I no longer dare to leave my babe
alone at the table,
even with my bladder full.

A while ago everyonev was
a slave of Cape Town.
Now they are building work centres the women,
Mary is helping the whole block with her hostel,
100 000 new flats for the homeless,
Mandela´s favourite chef teaches
the unemployed for the Cape´s tourist restaurants.

Khayelitsha, Guguletu, Katutura.
All are hoping for better tomorrows
and in the meantime to get by.
Angry rap is playing in the ambocap.
We are stared at like the penguins
of Simon´s Town.

Here a life costs just a ferw quid
and everything else is almost nothing.


ITALIANO:

PINGUINI

Ci siamo persi il primo giorno.
Cortesi signori da un lontano viale
vogliono a tutti i costi farci da guida.
Al bar teste si voltano
le donne si chiedono chi siamo
gli uomini giusto un'occhiata
e si concentrano sull'African Cup,
una gara importante contro il Camerun.
Non mi sono mai sentito
così bianco.

“Andarsene in giro senza accompagnatore è una follia.
Se un amico nero ti accompagna,
di problemi certamente non ne avrai.”

Do un paio di rand a un mutilato,
e quando il decimo tizio viene a dirmi
“noi siamo brava gente, ma gli altri
in questo bar vogliono derubarti”
non oso più lasciare la mia ragazza
da sola al tavolino
neanche se ho la vescica piena.

Solo un momento fa ognuno era
uno schiavo a Cape Town.
Ora costruiscono centri di lavoro le donne
Mary aiuta un intero blocco col suo ostello,
100000 nuovi appartamenti per i senza tetto,
il cuoco preferito di Mandela istruisce
i disoccupati per ristoranti turistici di Cape.

Khayelitsha, Guguletu, Katutura.
Tutti sperano in un domani migliore
e nel frattempo tirano avanti.
Suonano un rap rabbioso all' ambocab
Ci guardano come pinguini
a Simon Town.

Qui la vita vale due soldi
e tutto il resto praticamente è niente.

Traduzione di Isabella Panfido.


KUINKA TAAS TAPASIN KETTUNI URALILLA

Jur-jar kumuska! Jur-jar kumuska!
Huudot ja laulu täyttävät Aljonastsin kylän
kansallispukuiset mummot tarjoavat
udmurtialaista pontikkaa ja piiritanssia.

Kumuska kietaistaan pohjanmaan kautta
kun on saanut tarpeekseen
kieltäydytään kaksi kertaa
ja kolmannella maistetaan hiukan.

Kukaan ei kertonut sitä minulle
joten kumoan mukeja ja pyörin
kunnes olen palannut alkuun.

Olen jälleen nuori poika
ensimmäisellä shamaanimatkallaan
mutta myös se partainen vanha mies
joka näyssäni piirsi oudon symbolin maahan
sama kuvio on upotettu peuranluisena
koivuun udmurtialaisessa korussa.

Kama-joen rannalla jatkan matkaani
olen taas siloposkinen nuorukainen
joka eksyy pitkähäntäisestä voimaeläimestään
tapaa metsässä nuoren neidon ja löytää lähteen.

Lähteestä nousee alaston nainen ja alaston mies
piippu ja pullo, kuulen neidon äänen:
juo tämä lähde loppuun asti.

Rummut kumisevat ja nuotio humisee
makaan silmät kiinni paikalleni jähmettyneenä
joku luulee minua sammuneeksi
nousen ylös, otan huikan shamaanivodkasta
huudan Jur-jar, kävelen varmoin askelin läpi tulen
ja sukellan Kaman aaltoihin.

Nousen vedestä parrakkaana viisaana miehenä
joka tosin edelleen eksyy metsiin ja kaupunkeihin
ja uskoo kaiken mitä nuoret naiset opettavat.


ENGLISH:

HOW I MET MY FOX AGAIN IN URALS

Jur-jar kumuska, Jur-jar  kumuska!
Shouts and songs fill the village of Aljonastsi
grandmas in their national costumes are offering
udmurtian moonshine and a ringdance.

Kumuska is supposed to be downed in one,
when you have had enough
you reject the offer twice
and third time taste just a bit.

No one told me
so I´m turning glasses over and go around
until I´m returned to the beginning.

I´m a young boy again
on my first shaman trip
but also that old bearded man who drew
a strange figure on the land in my vision,
same symbol is set with deer bone
in wooden udmurtian jewelry.

By the river Kama I continue my journey
I´m again the smooth cheeked lad
who lost his longtailed power animal
met a young maiden in the forest and found a spring.

From the spring arose a naked woman and man,
pipe and bottle, I hear a maiden´s voice:
Drink this spring to the bottom.

Drums are booming and campfire is humming,
I´m laying still, my eyes shut,
somebody thinks I´ve passed out.
I get up, take a sip of shaman vodka,
shout  Jur-jar, walk with certain steps through
the fire and dive into the waves of Kama.

I get up from the water a bearded wise man,
though I still get lost in the wilderness and cities
and believe all that young women teach.


V SLOVENŠČINI:

KAKO SEM SVOJO LISICO SPET SREČAL NA URALU

Jur-jar kumuska, Jur-jar  kumuska!
Pesmi in klici odmevajo po vasi Aljonastsi,
babice v tradicionalnih oblačilih ponujajo
udmirtsko mesečino in plesno kolo.

Komusko naj bi spil eno in do dna,
ko imaš dovolj
dvakrat zavrneš ponudbo,
tretjič pa samo malo poskusiš.

Tega mi nihče ni povedal,
zato praznim kozarce in krožim,
dokler se ne vrnem na začetek.

Spet sem mlad fant
na svojem prvem šamanskem izletu,
toda tudi tisti starec z brado,
ki je v moji viziji na tla narisal nenavaden lik,
isti simbol kot v jelenovi kosti so vrezovali
tudi v lesen lesen ujdmurtski nakit.

Ob reki Kami nadaljujem s potovanjem,
spet sem mladenič z gladkimi lici,
ki je izgubil svojo sveto žival z dolgim repom,
v gozdu srečal mladenko in našel studenec.

Iz izvira so se dvignili gola ženska in moški,
pipa in steklenica. Zaslišim glas mladenke
popij izvir do dna.

Bobni hrumijo in taborni ogenj buči.
Negiben ležim, oči imam zaprte,
nekdo je prepričan, da sem umrl.

Vstanem, spijem požirek šamanske vodke,
zavpijem Jur-jar , s trdnim korakom odkorakam
skoz ogenj in skočim v valove Kame.

Iz vode pridem kot bradat modrec,
čeprav se še vedno izgubim v divjini in v mestih
in verjamem vse, kar učijo mlade ženske

Prevedel Iztok Osojnik.

Literary association IA

The 9th Golden Boat Poetry Translation Workshop 2011

The 9th Golden Boat International Translation Workshop 2011

IN MEDIA:

Primorske novice, 4. 9. 2011

Radio Slovenija, Program ARS, Kulturna panorama, 3. 9. 2011

This year's traditional 9th Golden Boat International Poetry Translation Workshop 2011 will be held from 28th August to 4th September in Škocjan in the Karst in Slovenia. This year's guests come from eight countries: Pamela Uschuk and William Root from USA, Martina Hefter and Jan Kuhlbrodt from Germany, Jonáš Hájek and Jana Šnytová from Czech Republic, Esa Hirvonen from Finland, Dražen Katunarić from Croatia, Amir Talić from Bosnia and Herzegovina, Isabella Panfido from Italy, Catherine MacCarthy from Ireland, Alja Adam, Tatjana T. Jamnik, Marjan Strojan, Špela Sevšek Šramel, Slavo Šerc from Slovenia. The workshop will be led by Iztok Osojnik. As every year, the workshop is dedicated to nurturing live contacts in the West European, Central European and Slavic triangle, linking towns and major European literatures of the east and the west, co-organizing festivals, symposia, meetings and workshops, the international recognition of Škocjan as a modern literary hub and the encouragement and dissemination of original poetry and translations in Slovenia and abroad. The successful promotion of Slovenian poet Srečko Kosovel in the UK and the USA will soon be followed by a new monograph on Kosovel in Polish and the international publication of a new wave of Slovenian classics (Cankar, Strniša, Detela). The Golden Boat participants will present their work on two free, public readings: 1st September at 8 p.m. in Škocjan in the Karst and 2nd September at 7.30 p.m. at the Trubar House of Literature in Ljubljana. For more information see www.ia-zlaticoln.org.

The Golden Boat Workshop is organized by the Literary Association of IA in collaboration with Cultural-Artistic Association of Polica Dubova, Tourist Association Škocjan, Cultural Association Vilenica, magazine Monitor ZSA, KUD France Preseren, Regional Community Alps-Adriatic and journals / publishing houses Apokalipsa and Poetikon.
The workshop is supported by Slovenian Book Agency, Krka, d. d., Škocjan Caves Park, publisher Pighog Press (England), FILI (Finland), Inn at Vncku, Cuisle Limerick  Festival (Ireland), SKD Sežana, Trubar House of Literature, Okarina, d. o. o., Association Triglav-Rysy (Poland).

PROGRAM
Sunday, 28th August - arrivals
19:00 – Welcome dinner

Monday, 29th August
9:30 – Working session
13:00 – Lunch
19:00 – Dinner

Tuesday, 30th August
9:30 – Working session
13:00 – Lunch
14:30 – Excursion (Škocjan caves)
19:00 – Dinner

Wednesday, 31st  August
9:30 – Working session
13:00 – Lunch
15:00 – Walking excursion
19:00 – Dinner

Thursday, 1st September
9:30 – Working session
13:00 – Lunch
18:30 – Dinner
20:00 – The Golden Boat reading Škocjan

Friday, 2nd September
9:30 – Working session
12:30 – Lunch
14:00 – Departure for Ljubljana
19:30 – The Golden Boat Reading at the
 Trubarjeva hiša literature (Trubar’s House of Literature) in Ljubljana

Saturday, 3rd September
9:30 – Session on translating poetry
13:00 – Lunch
15:00 – Excursion to Tomaj
20:00 – Farewell Dinner

Sunday, 4th September
Departure after breakfast

Zlati Čoln 2010