Panel 1
Wagner: Viivi is in a better mood now that we’re engaged.
Viivi: La-la-la!
Panel 2
Wagner: The metal ring on her left ring finger made it happen.
Panel 3
Wagner: Again, something that only a woman understands.
Translated by Living in FIN. Originally published in Finnish in Hesari on October 22, 2016
I have it on good authority that today, September 30, is International Translation Day.
In real life, I’m a fairly experienced professional translator from Russian to English.
In my virtual life, I’m a hapless tyro still trying to get a handle on the orderly but utterly alien beauty of Finnish.
I’m only happy to say that, after studying the language for five or six years more or less seriously, some things are starting to feel less alien.
Then there are the dumb things you do when you’re “young”—in a language, not in life. I’ve fallen in love with an 88-year-old Finnish writer whom I’ve never met in real life and probably never will meet.
Her name is Eeva Kilpi. In Finland and other parts of the world, she is quite famous. She has even been rumored to be on the long list or shortlist (I don’t really know) for the Nobel Prize in Literature.
In English, however, she is virtually unknown. The first selection of her poems in English translation, wonderfully translated by Donald Adamson, A Landscape Blooms within Me, was published only two years ago. I could not recommend it more highly, especially because, as a bilingual edition, the book is a real boon to Finnish language learners like me.
If you’re one of the eight or nine humanoids who have been following this blog, you will have noticed I’ve been making way too much space lately for my own dubious translations of Eeva Kilpi’s poems.
So I can think of no better way of celebrating International Translation Day than pumping up the old random number generator to pick me a page number and, thus, a poem from Kilpi’s collected poems, Perhonen ylittää tien (A Butterfly Crosses the Road, WSOY, 2000), to translate for the occasion.
Chance operations took mercy on me today. They directed me to page seventy-one.
Vain kirjeen alussa me tohdimme enää
nimittää toisiamme rakkaaksi ja hyväksi.
Only at the letter’s beginning do we still dare
To call each other darling and dear.
—Eeva Kilpi, Laulu rakkaudesta ja muita runoja (WSOY, 1972)
Translated by Living in FIN. This translation is dedicated to V., my comrade in life, translating, and Finnish. It also happens to be her name day today.
Panel 1
Wagner: I’ve been on Facebook for years already.
Pane1 2
Wagner: And I still don’t have a single friend.
Panel 3
Wagner: Except Jesus.
Jesus: I’m not on Facebook.
Translated by Living in FIN. Originally published in Finnish in Hesari on June 2, 2016
Kuokkala Bridge, Ainolanranta, Jyväskylä, September 2, 2016
Syksy.
Nyt pyykkiin viime kesän spermat.
Vähäiset mutta kuitenkin.
Sääli.
Eivät mahtuneet kaikki minuun.
Ja talvi on pitkä.
Autumn.
Now the last of summer’s sperm goes into the wash.
A little, but still.
It’s a pity.
It didn’t all fit into me.
And winter is long.
Source: Eeva Kilpi, Terveisin (WSOY, 1976), p. 42. Translation and photo by Living in FIN
Koiratta
on kuonoa ja
kahta luppakorvaa yksinäisempi.
Yö
on toista hengitystä vajaa.
En pelkää. Ikävöin.
Dogless
is lonelier than
a snout and two floppy ears.
Night
is short one breath.
I do not fear. I miss.
Source: Eeva Kilpi, Terveisin (WSOY, 1976), p. 8. Photos and translation by Thomas H. Campbell. Here is a different translation of the same poem
Olen rauhallinen aina kun minulla on kaksi:
kaksi kampaa, kahdet sukat, kaksi samanlaista kynää.
Rakastaessakin yksinäisyys aina toisena.
Vai niin, hän sanoi ankarasti,
käskyn sinä tiedät:
jos sinulla on kaksi, luovuta toinen pois.
Tiedän, minä vastasin,
vaan jospa minuun pätee se suomalainen sananlasku:
Joka kahta kaihoaa, kumpaisenkin kadottaa.
I am always calm when I have two:
Two combs, two pairs of socks, two identical pens.
When I love, solitude is always the other one.
Indeed, he said harshly,
You know the commandment:
If you have two things, give one away.
I know, I replied,
But maybe the Finnish proverb applies to me:
He who longs for two things loses both.
—Eeva Kilpi, Laulu rakkaudesta ja muita runoja (WSOY, 1972)
Translation and photos by Living in FIN
Kuolevat syöttävät lintuja.
Siksi sanotaan että linnut tietävät kuolemaa.
Eläimet ymmärretään aina väärin.
Ajat ovat sellaiset että olisi sanottava joka hetki
jotain lopullista.
Olla niin lähellä maata
että kuulee mitä se sanoo,
tulla osaksi sen ääntä,
olla sen tahtoa ja tajuntaa,
palata siihen mitä on aina tiennyt.
Se on itsestään selvää
mutta ei yksinkertaista.
Moninaisuuden voi tajuta vain
koko olemuksellaan
eikä sen tajuamisesta enää halua pois.
The dying feed the birds.
So it is said birds presage death.
Animals are always misunderstood.
The times are such one should say something final
every instant.
Be so close to the earth
one hears what it says,
become a part of its voice,
be its will and consciousness,
go back to what has always been known.
That is self-evident
but not simple.
The manifold can be grasped only
by its entire essence
not by wanting to avoid grasping it anymore.
—Eeva Kilpi, Animalia (WSOY, 1987)
Translation and photos by Living in FIN
Onko säälittävämpää näkyä
kuin kahdella sormella koneella kirjoittava aikuinen mies.
On kuin näkisi itsensä kadulla kävelemässä
takaapäin toisen kerroksen ikkunasta,
paljaan päälakensa, kyyryt hartiansa,
nöyryytyksensä taakan.
Is there a sight more pathetic
than a grown man writing with two fingers on a typewriter.
It’s like seeing oneself walking down the street
from behind out a second-floor window,
the pate of one’s bare head, one’s stooped shoulders,
the burden of one’s humiliation.
—Hannu Salakka, Yöllä näin kaiken vapaan maan (Otava, 1990)
Translation and photos by Living in FIN
Our dead speak to us through our senses
as the marsh respires
reeks and squelches
bubbles and blooms
proffers its berries
and carries the bear.
Like the wind passing over the marsh
Lulling the cottonsedge as far as the eye can see
So our dead are present
underwater
in our soul’s
depths
drowned plants are swaying.
Our dead are rooted in us
they rest in us
our soul is heavy with drowned snags
and perhaps fruitful
perhaps in its cavities something forms a chain
and something invisible to us
surreptitiously proffers its purpose
which
(what relief)
is none of our business.
—Eeva Kilpi, Recent Poems, 1996–2000
Translation and photos by Living in FIN
During the Stone Age, Finnish contemporary art looked something like this.
And it was exhibited in site-specific installations such as this.
Since the Stone Age, Finnish contemporary art has gone downhill. Like everything else in Finland. And like everywhere else.
The Kolmiköytisienvuori rock painting is located in Ruokolahti commune in the eastern part of the southern Lake Saimaa region. The painting consists of a single densely painted area on a rock outcropping that is visible far out into the lake. The painting has been dated to the early New Stone Age. The site is signposted before the turn on the road from Savilahti to Sapola on Äitsaari Island.
The painting was discovered in 1977 by Timo Miettinen, who is also listed as the painting’s inventory curator. Miettinen inventoried the painting in 1994, and Minna Kähtävä-Marttinen, in 1996. About two kilometers to the west of Kolmiköytyisienvuori, a typical Comb Ware period dwelling site has been found on Korosniemi Cape. Based on its location and height, the rock painting has been dated to around 3,000 BCE.
Source: fi.wikipedia.org
Living in FIN 