Hannu Salakka: Three Poems

Patsaat ovat alkaneet elää
niinkuin menneisyys olisi astunut voimaan,
niinkuin kaikki kannetut taakat
yhä painaisivat kantajaansa.
Iloiset vainajat ovat kerääntyneet
neuvonpitoon tulevaisuuden porteille;
kuolematonta puhetta tavoitellessaan
mutisevat kuin vuosisadat.

● ● ● ● ● ● ●

The statues have come to life
as if the past had come into force,
as if all the burdens borne
still pressed down on their bearers.
The happy dead have gathered
for negotiations at the future’s gates.
In their pursuit of immortal speech
they mutter like the centuries.

Viilenee hitaasti,
miedot tuoksut kohoavat aaltoina.
Valvoa myöhään, herätä varhain,
olla jouten koko pitkän päivän.
Mutta jokin huolestuttaa.
Ehkä kadonnut taito päästä irti asioista,
Jotka eivät tapahdu täällä.

● ● ● ● ● ● ●

It cools slowly,
mild scents rising in waves.
Staying up late, waking up early,
Being idle all day long.
But there’s something worrying.
Maybe the lost art of letting things go
that do not happen here.

Ilta

Odotan ystävää,
mutta häntä ei kuulu.
On jo pimentynyt,
ikkunastani vain loistaa valo,
ja kuu
alkaa jo kohota.
Jos hän on jo lähtenyt matkaan,
tapaa ystävän.
Jos viivyttelee,
löytääkö katkeran miehen.
Viini on hyväksi sille,
joka osaa olla sille ystävällinen,
mutta pahaksi sille,
joka muutenkin tuottaa elämässään vahinkoa
itselleen.
Mutta tunne sitä ei kukaan.

Varasin viiniä molemille,
se alkaa olla jo lopuillan, kuu korkealla.
Metsä kylmä ja sumuinen,
katsomattakin tiedän, miten asiat siellä ovat,
mutta nyt haluaisin kuulla, kuinka se on vaiti.
Tunnen sen:
kun on joku ihminen mukana,
esittelen kuin kotiani.
Mutta kun menen yksin
ja kaikki pakenevat,
en tiedä miten olisin.

Evening

I wait for a friend,
but he is nowhere to be heard.
It has gone dark already:
the light shines only from my window,
and the moon has
started to rise.
If he’s already on his way,
he will find a friend.
If he dawdles,
he might find a bitter man.
Wine is good for the one
who can be sweet to it,
but bad for the man
who goes through life doing harm
to himself as it is.
But no one knows this.

I have set aside wine for both of us.
It’s getting to the end of the night, the moon is high.
The woods are cold and foggy.
Even without looking, I know how things are out there,
but now I would like to hear them quiet.
I can feel it:
when there’s a person involved,
I’ll show you around like I’m home.
But when I go alone
and all flee,
I don’t know how to be.

Source: Hannu Salakka, Kuin unessa viipyen (Otava, 1990), pp. 246, 156, 67. Photos and translation by Living in FIN

My Dream Car

Thomas Campbell
Facebook
April 30, 2017

Some of you may remember my previous accounts of my dream car, a 1960s Toyota Crown that has been unaccountably parked outside the Prisma hypermarket across the street from our house in Linnala, Imatra, E-K, since that temple to Satan and lucre opened its doors to Russian cross-border shoppers a couple of years ago.

The condition of the dream car isn’t improving. Now it has at least two flat tires and what appears to be a bad paint scratch on one side.

It also seems that a rival for the dream car’s affections has emerged, a certain Petter, who left a hand-scrawled note, pinned down to the windshield with the wiper blade, in which he pathetically asks, “Is it for sale? If you’re selling call 044 524 7719.”

Since the note is still there, I gather no one has called poor Petter, making me wonder whether the dream car’s owner is still among the living or the mentally competent.

Be that as it may, I have to have the car. What I will do I with it? I will give people free rides in it, especially the refugees living in an ex-hotel on the other side of the river. As it is, many of them make the trip to the stores (all of them are on our side of the river, and they’re way more than we need) by foot, which must take them a couple of hours at least.

Why do I deserve the car? Because I fought the law and the law won. Many times. And because I lent your sister that dress that made her the belle of the ball at the prom in 1991, even though she’s a pretty average looking gal.

So you send me your email address, and I’ll send you a bill for whatever contribution you’re willing to make via PayPal, and I’ll be one step close to sweeping the dream car from out under the nose of that pesky Petter.

If you think I’m kidding, you don’t know me very well.

The alternative is to buy the car with the Kekkonen sticker on the back window. But that car seems to have a mentally competent owner who drives it all the time, except she or he thinks it’s “a laugh” Urho Kekkonen was president of Finland for like six hundred years, even though the country is celebrating its 100th year of independence only this year.

My dream car was still there in September 2019, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s still there now. || LIF, Vappu 2021 (1 May 2021)