Syds Wiersma was the RIXT poet of the month January 2021. You can read his original Frisian poems of that month here. The translation of one of them – ‘Sense of Place’ – is published here below.
Sense of Place Nije Biltpôlen/Noarderleech No morning person I slip on rough frozen sludge. Frosted polder dikes. A white death of bulrush washed ashore. Rushes sharp brown like wrecking tools. I follow the gully, got no other choice, even as a kid I walked on banks of winding ditches, stand-ins when short of alternative channels. A strip of island over there, here lies extramural land seized beneath a sky that plays its trump card of innocence slick blue, lets the hours climb glassily, thaw into a marsh of finisterre. Timidly the stream crawls on. Back in Nijesyl I stumble over humps and bumps, snap up chirping sparrows, presumably to release them like flatfish from coastal works later on. Now no-nonsense my stride across the concrete. The fields are already leaking water from pipes on the Aldrij. The sun belly sleighing across a thin sheet of ice. Moorhens pass over quickly: hungry for forgotten blessed daily bread. © Syds Wiersma Trans. Trevor M. Scarse