Henk Dillerop, a new addition to the RIXT collective, was the RIXT poet of the month in April. You can read his original Frisian poems from that month here. The translation of one of them – ‘form’ – is published here.

form

does emptiness have form
she asks
lying on the beach

he thinks
gets up
walks to the sea
and punches holes
in the waves

do feelings
have form as well
she asks

he thinks
and with his hands
squeezes air in between the waves

does colour
have form too

he draws her name
in curly letters
in the foam

and life

he gathers up seashells
his hands full

and love
does love have a form

he keeps still

looks at her
minutes ticking by
doesn’t move a muscle

she perceives


© Henk Dillerop
translation: Trevor Scarse

Elmar Kuiper was the RIXT poet of the month February 2023. You can read his original Frisian poems of that month here. The translation of one of them – ‘HUMAN BEING’ – is published here.

HUMAN BEING

he is clean
like a river

but slibs up at the mouth

he lets his Swiss shepherd
fly after a stick on the cinder
path

rhymes a mallard not with the man

he is fair
like a bullet

at the edge of the city he twirls
the steel for the arena, where he
will sing in canon

he’s pitch perfect
like a rock

skims across the old
canal

smooth and flat
is his word


© Elmar Kuiper
translation: Trevor Scarse

Ina Schroders-Zeeders was the RIXT poet of the month January 2023. You can read her original Frisian poems of that month here. The translation of one of them – ‘coat’ – is published here.

coat

so many old things fall out of your coat pockets:
plasters, coins
pills for tranquillity

who put them there when you weren’t looking?
or was it you
but forgot

once sleepless nights because of money
no piece of clothing contains so many secrets
as an old coat with the pepper smell of sweat and rain

nothing falls better into place
than litter
on a worn-out tile floor


© Ina Schroders-Zeeders
translation: Trevor Scarse

Syds Wiersma was RIXT Poet of the Month for December 2022. You can read his original Frisian poems from that month here. The translation of one of them – ‘late autumn’ – is published below.

late autumn

in the autumn I’m able to write
if writing is a form of dying
until the telling turns it into a
feeble infatuation

I prune wild imaginings
cleanse my eyes bloated
from drawn-out days

the ambition burns brightly for a moment, then lets go
sinks into a swoon after a sprinkling of frosty and white

in the autumn I’m able to write
if writing has to be an act
of consolation


© Syds Wiersma
translation: Trevor Scarse

Sipke de Schiffart was RIXT Poet of the Month for November 2022. You can read his original Frisian poems from that month here. The translation of one of them – ‘Apostate’ – is published below.

apostate

once the national coach was a pious,
loyal church attendee, until 
his first wife passed away

he turned away from his belief,
did not set foot in a church anymore

strange, when you think about it

all the misery in the world, the famine
and starvation of millions of small children in Africa,
the enormous slaughter in his own country’s bioindustry,
Auschwitz and you name it

none of that was a reason for him
to leave the church,
but when his own wife passed,
he was so incensed,
that he wanted nothing to do 
with God anymore

fortunately for Dutch football
he does know a lot about the game


© Sipke de Schiffart
translation: Trevor Scarse

Jetze de Vries was RIXT Poet of the Month for October 2022. You can read his original Frisian poems from that month here. The translation of one of them – ‘Lot’ – is published below.

Lot

before dawn the man closed
the door of his home softly
drove for hours, looked in mirrors
clouds gathered like smoke
the sound was closing in
a monstrous insect across the mountain ridge
the land of the free did not come into view


© Jetze de Vries
translation: Trevor Scarse

Fedde Dijkstra was RIXT Poet of the Month September 2022. You can read his original Frisian poems from that month here. The translation of one of them – ‘CLOSE ENOUGH’ – is published here. Fedde Dijkstra is a guest poet of RIXT.

CLOSE ENOUGH

in between the forest’s breaths
cars rumble across the concrete
a pigeon flaps out of a tree

two clocks ticking at each other
and through the French windows
a cat traipses stealthily

inside, nothing barring its way,
through the corridor, up the stairs
where it plays with a little ball

which on its own accord
ba
    donk
             a
              donk
                       a
                       donk
bounces down the stairs

a blackbird sounds the alarm
the neighbour calls her kids inside
and a siren comes in

nothing is perfect
but everything falls into place
close enough for jazz


© Fedde Dijkstra
translation: Trevor Scarse