Posted poetry

Aukje-Tjitske Dieleman was the RIXT poet of the month in March. You can read her original Frisian poem here. The English translation of her poem – ‘Far from home’ – is published below.

Far from home

Far from home
language leaps
out at you

the sea wall
is blinding
the meadows
of memory
make your
eyes sting

Far from home
you build another
bring your language
along with you

yet your accent changes
your eyes adjust
your ears no longer
capture the language

the dykes
and meadows
the church towers
even the city centre
you hardly ever visited
cannot be flaunted
on your windowsill

In your new house
you will always 
remain a little 
far from home


© Aukje-Tjitske Dieleman
translation: Trevor Scarse

Ina Schroders-Zeeders was the RIXT poet of the month in March. You can read her original Dutch poems from that month here (with Frisian translations). The English translation of her poem – ‘hail mary’s’ – is published below.

hail mary's

during the night, across the graveyard
strides Gabriel
one of his wings is drooping
his wheelbarrow filled with teddy bears

the next morning a trail of white feathers
like that of a butchered dove
leads up to the rusty fence
with misty light beyond

the newspapers talk of downpours
more and more teddy bears are coming down
caused by the changing
of the climate


© Ina Schroders-Zeeders
translation: Trevor Scarse

Lara Kool was the RIXT poet of the month in February. You can read the original Frisian poem from that month here. The translation of her poem – ‘Children of the Moon’ – is published here.

Children of the Moon

His sunny son
a healing source of light
but in your darkness
every sun
is merely a flame on a match
burning up
one after another
you banished his rays
through your dark desperation
Born light
yet no chance ever, never again?
to be a sun
so that even he had to search
for enlightenment
in this imposed night
but he too could only reflect
what used to be so natural
the Self



© Lara Kool
translation: Trevor Scarse

Martsje de Jong was the RIXT poet of the month in January. You can read the original Frisian poem from that month here. The translation of her poem – ‘for you’ – is published here.

for you

sometimes I’d like to ask you how you
experienced your
American dream, sent in
letters and photos
which make me think
you might have said this
thought that and laughed about it
as a divinely gorgeous guy
walks past
just as out of reach as you
as I’m cutting cheese and sausages
for my birthday which you
will not attend
I’d like to know what you thought about
the undertaker combing your hair
patching up your disfigured face
with make-up




© Martsje de Jong
translation: Trevor Scarse

Pier Boorsma was the RIXT poet of the month in December. You can read his original Frisian poems from that month here. The translation of one of his poems – ‘Josse’ – is published here.

Josse

his father sold 
– if it suited him –
paraffin
and when that did not happen
he had to go to college
without food
the girls in his class sniggered
at his mismatched socks
he fancied one of them
but did not dare to ask her
who did he think he was
as son of the paraffin vendor
later on, he would write a novel
about the stuffiness of his village
as a writer
he finally mattered



© Pier Boorsma
translation: Trevor Scarse

Jan Kooistra was the RIXT poet of the month in November. You can read his original Frisian poems from that month here. The translation of one of his poems – ‘Balloo Heath’ – is published here.

Balloo Heath

on the Balloo Heath no one’s building bunkers 
with no chance of rockets raining down
no walls are being built, no fences set up

on the Balloo Heath there are no protests 
there is no black and no white, no hustling 
or bustling, no violence and no aggravation

on the Balloo Heath there is pain nor thirst 
no poverty or illness, no resentment
and no motherless child without a tomorrow

on the Balloo Heath the dead are fast asleep
in their timeworn graves because they know
yellowhammers and godwits will return from afar

on the Balloo Heath the trees always cry 
in late November, is that why the days
are so silent here on the Balloo Heath?


© Jan Kooistra
translation: Trevor Scarse

Sipke de Schiffart was the RIXT poet of the month in October. You can read his original Frisian poems from that month here. The translation of one of them – ‘boy,’ – is published here.

boy,

you will never read this, I’m afraid,
never will you know that my thoughts are with you,
that I won’t ever forget you

you represent so many others,
though you weren’t allowed the time
to write a diary

on a video I saw how you were grabbed
by an adult male, in your shorts,
with your skinny legs, how old – six, seven?

did they burn your parents alive,
shoot your grandparents, rape your sister
and chop off your little brother’s head?

as he walked your attacker held you tightly 
with his arm under your armpit,
an arm thicker than your legs

whose arm was it?

it belongs to every antisemite in the world!

I console myself with the thought
that not much is lost in a life
where something can occur
like what has happened to you


© Sipke de Schiffart
translation: Trevor Scarse