Monday, 15 October 2012

Poems from 'October' in '1001 Poems' by the Danish writer Klaus Høeck

                  the poem does not
                  of course create the
world (nor its own either) but
                  because it forges
                  a precise link be
tween language and reali
ty it lights up in brief glimps
                  es (like october’s
                  gold over the thick
et of brambles) the exist
                  ing world making it
                  more than visible

                  further in complete
                  ly out there where lan
guage borders on reali
                  ty there lies the wood
                  of emeralds where
the wild brambles are still in
flower and their branches plait them
                  selves in and out of
                  the writing so as
to hold the world together
                  in the gleaming net
                  work of the poem

                  bramble brombær bram
                  ble blackberry bram
ble mure sauvage bramble
                  brombeere bramble
                  brombeerstrauch bramble
(the spanish translation) bram
ble (the italian trans
                  lation) bramble (the
                  swedish translation)
the international worldwide
                  combat day of the
                  bramble brambleday

                  further out complete
                  ly in there where re
ality and language al
                  most resemble each
                  other there lies the
wood of emeralds where the
words ‘bramble’ and ‘thicket’ light
                  up your own centre
                  so you can see (per
ceive) the blackberries clearly
                  and distinctly when
                  you yourself see them

                  i have cut down the
                  bramble thicket to
day really cut it down to
                  size out there at the
                  hedge facing east the
bramble thicket that resem
bles my own poetry so
                  wildly untama
                  ble and prickly the
bramble thicket that grows up
                  more vigorously
                  each time its pruned back

                  the poem like a
catalyst almost unreal
                  in that reali
                  ty it gathers to
gether into a world like
                  the finest plati
                  num dust transparent
almost like a spiritual
                  event that no one
                  can see with the na
ked eye which only reads the
                  words of the poem

                  hints tips and good ad
                  vice to a young po
et: ‘it sounds so beautiful’
                  i said - ‘does lofty
                  poetry but po
etry is only lofty
to the same extent as life
                  is denigrated
                  and debased’ - i said
‘poetry ought to be more
                  like a turnip in
                  its fat fertile soil’

For the entire book in English translation, go to here.

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