Poem
Kazuko Shiraishi
A Wandering Estonian
yesterday I met a wandering Estonianhe is not a Flying Dutchman
in your letter Yan! I understand your grandfather’s days
unfurled the sails in a spacious garden and I hear angels were singing the song of
the honeybees
I know nothing of the old days of your grandfather’s
grandfather’s groundwater the boy who lost his father when he was a child
before he could remember soon will become
a wandering Estonian
no matter how hard he searched and searched
there are only a hundred secrets a thousands bits of evidence about his father
who had disappeared been wiped out
“I saw your father in the camp
when I worked with him that man or
this man father A father B father C
father D the stories of those who happened to see your father
are all scattered tales” so I think
now if my father were to return to this world
I would never live in a land like this again
I would leave here be gone to a different continent
but Yan! a wandering modern Dutchman
an Estonian Dutchman
who is that professor teaching
Polish on a ship in heaven with his sails spread? he has
wings on his back but there is a trace of frozen blood
on his chapped hands and on his chest don’t cry
trees in what was your grandfather’s garden!
birds that were singing there insects an infant boy!
you can hear the song, can’t you we are the Flying Dutchmen
while we are alive and when we are dead Yan! in your letter
your trees tremble
I can hear a poem in Polish by the man who was your father
don’t unfurl the sails now is the time that ship is
passing the garden of your grandfather’s days
when angels were singing the song of the honeybees
© Translation: 2009, Yumiko Tsumura and Samuel Grolmes
From: My Floating Mother, City
Publisher: New Directions, New York, 2009
From: My Floating Mother, City
Publisher: New Directions, New York, 2009
DE VLIEGENDE EST
gisteren ontmoette ik een vliegende Est(het was geen vliegende Hollander)
in je brief Jan! staat dat de dagen van je grootvader
in een ruime tuin volle zeilen spanden en engelen een lied van honingbijen
zongen, toch?
in zijn jonge dagen nog vóór hij zich iets herinnerde
onwetend van zijn grootvaders grootvaders grootvaders verre verleden
zal de jongen die zijn vader verloor
al snel een zwervend bestaan gaan leiden
hoe hij ook zoekt en zoekt er zijn van zijn verdwenen uitgewiste
vader slechts honderd geheimen duizend getuigenissen
“ik heb je vader gezien in het kamp
toen we daar samen werkten die man of
die man vader A vader B vader C
vader D de verhalen van mensen die je vader hadden gezien
zijn allemaal los zand” dus ik denk
nu dat als vader weer in deze wereld terug zou komen
hij geen tweede keer in een streek als deze zou wonen
naar een ander continent zou hij gaan hier zou hij weggaan
maar een moderne vliegende Hollander
een Hollander uit Estland Jan!
wie is die professor die Pools
doceert aan boord van dat hemels schip met volle zeilen? op zijn rug
groeien vleugels maar in zijn gekloofde handen
en op zijn borst zitten sporen van bevroren bloed niet huilen
bomen in wat ooit de tuin van je grootvader was
de vogeltjes die daar zingen de insecten de kleine jongen
toen wij nog leefden en toen wij dood waren
konden we dat lied van de vliegende Hollander
niet horen Jan! in je brief
trillen je bomen een gedicht in het Pools
van je vader kunnen we horen
niet de zeilen reven Jan! juist nu vaart dat schip
door de tuin uit de dagen van je grootvader
uit de dagen dat engelen een lied van honingbijen zongen
© Vertaling: 2009, Ivo Smits
© 2000, Kazuko Shiraishi
From: Roba no kicho na namida yori
Publisher: Shichosha, Tokyo
From: Roba no kicho na namida yori
Publisher: Shichosha, Tokyo
Poems
Poems of Kazuko Shiraishi
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A Wandering Estonian
yesterday I met a wandering Estonianhe is not a Flying Dutchman
in your letter Yan! I understand your grandfather’s days
unfurled the sails in a spacious garden and I hear angels were singing the song of
the honeybees
I know nothing of the old days of your grandfather’s
grandfather’s groundwater the boy who lost his father when he was a child
before he could remember soon will become
a wandering Estonian
no matter how hard he searched and searched
there are only a hundred secrets a thousands bits of evidence about his father
who had disappeared been wiped out
“I saw your father in the camp
when I worked with him that man or
this man father A father B father C
father D the stories of those who happened to see your father
are all scattered tales” so I think
now if my father were to return to this world
I would never live in a land like this again
I would leave here be gone to a different continent
but Yan! a wandering modern Dutchman
an Estonian Dutchman
who is that professor teaching
Polish on a ship in heaven with his sails spread? he has
wings on his back but there is a trace of frozen blood
on his chapped hands and on his chest don’t cry
trees in what was your grandfather’s garden!
birds that were singing there insects an infant boy!
you can hear the song, can’t you we are the Flying Dutchmen
while we are alive and when we are dead Yan! in your letter
your trees tremble
I can hear a poem in Polish by the man who was your father
don’t unfurl the sails now is the time that ship is
passing the garden of your grandfather’s days
when angels were singing the song of the honeybees
© 2009, Yumiko Tsumura and Samuel Grolmes
From: My Floating Mother, City
Publisher: 2009, New Directions, New York
From: My Floating Mother, City
Publisher: 2009, New Directions, New York
A Wandering Estonian
yesterday I met a wandering Estonianhe is not a Flying Dutchman
in your letter Yan! I understand your grandfather’s days
unfurled the sails in a spacious garden and I hear angels were singing the song of
the honeybees
I know nothing of the old days of your grandfather’s
grandfather’s groundwater the boy who lost his father when he was a child
before he could remember soon will become
a wandering Estonian
no matter how hard he searched and searched
there are only a hundred secrets a thousands bits of evidence about his father
who had disappeared been wiped out
“I saw your father in the camp
when I worked with him that man or
this man father A father B father C
father D the stories of those who happened to see your father
are all scattered tales” so I think
now if my father were to return to this world
I would never live in a land like this again
I would leave here be gone to a different continent
but Yan! a wandering modern Dutchman
an Estonian Dutchman
who is that professor teaching
Polish on a ship in heaven with his sails spread? he has
wings on his back but there is a trace of frozen blood
on his chapped hands and on his chest don’t cry
trees in what was your grandfather’s garden!
birds that were singing there insects an infant boy!
you can hear the song, can’t you we are the Flying Dutchmen
while we are alive and when we are dead Yan! in your letter
your trees tremble
I can hear a poem in Polish by the man who was your father
don’t unfurl the sails now is the time that ship is
passing the garden of your grandfather’s days
when angels were singing the song of the honeybees
© 2009, Yumiko Tsumura and Samuel Grolmes
From: My Floating Mother, City
Publisher: 2009, New Directions, New York
From: My Floating Mother, City
Publisher: 2009, New Directions, New York
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