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Jorma Etto, “Othello”
Othello
Lapsesta asti rakastin sanoja,
sanoja kunniotin, ihailin sanoja,
neitseitä ne olivat, jaloja niin:
desdemonaksi kuvittelin substaantiivit.
Nyt inhat, irstaat, yököttävät kaikki nuo,
monien siitämät, silti marrot,
käytetyt portot joita rakastan.
Oi Aika, jalo ystäväni, kivesi kokoat
ja heität kasvoilleni. Siitä nämä uurteet.
Helpoksi kaiken teet,
pehmeiksi päivät sanoja maat. Hyi!
Ken on se Jago? Se sietäis tappaa
sijasta desdemonan, lemmittyni.
Nuo viisaat kaikki, nuo luulevaiset kirjat,
minulle kuiskuttivat ja minä uskoin:
syvälle päästäkseen on surmattava puhtain,
joksikin mahdutettava mihin ei se mahdu,
myrkkynsä sekoitettava, juotava myrkky,
verensä musteena haavoistaan vuodatettava
palstoille pohjattomille. Oi viisaus, Jago,
Kristuksen minusta naulitsit ristiin
että päästäisit minusta pois Barabbaan.
Olen levittänyt desdemonani pellavalle kuin uhrin
(mutta naarmuakaan ei saanut lumenpuhdas,
alabasterinhieno), ja kynttilän, jo läikkyvän,
puhalsin sammuksiin (oi sammu, tuli, sammu!)
Oi kuinka ruusun taitettuaan sen saisi
elämään uudestaan ja kukkimaan? Ei.
Se kuihtuu, kuolee. Minä myös.
Liikaa rakastin, nyt suurmaani lemmin,
en edes luita desdemoman saata unohtaa,
puhtaita niin, niin hentoja: sanoja suloisia suutelin
kun niiltä hengen vein. Ja tuhkasi, oi desdemona,
nyt sormin tunnottomin, jäykin,
riveiksi näiksi kylvän tälle aukealle.
* * * * *
I loved words ever since I was a kid.
I respected words, I admired them.
They were virgins, so noble.
I imagined nouns as Desdemonas.
All of them are now wretched, wanton, nauseating,
Beget by many yet barren,
The secondhand harlots I love.
O time, my noble friend, you gather your stones
and toss them in my face, hence these furrows.
You make everything easy,
you soften days, words, countries. Ugh!
Who, pray, is the Iago? You would have to kill him
instead of Desdemona, my beloved.
All those wise men, those gullible books
whispered to me and I believed
I must kill what is purest to go deep,
squeeze something where it does not fit,
mix my poison, drink poison,
shed blood like ink from my wounds
into bottomless columns of print. O wisdom, Iago:
you would nail the Christ in me to the cross
to drive the Barabbas in me out.
I spread my Desdemona on linen like a sacrifice
(but pure as snow, fine as alabaster, she did not suffer
a single scratch) and the candle, already spilling,
I blew out. (Go out, flame, go out!)
Can a rose, after it has snapped,
be brought back to life and bloom? No,
it withers and dies. Me too.
I loved too much, now it is my great country I love.
Even Desdemona’s bones I cannot forget,
so pure, so delicate: I kissed sweet words
when I took their lives. And your ashes, o Desdemona,
with fingers numb and stiff
I now sow as these lines on this clearing.
Jorma Etto, Ajastaikaa (Porvoo–Helsinki: WSOY, 1964), pp. 27–28. Translation and photo by Living in FIN
Jorma Etto, “Life Is”
elämä on
niin suurena niin tavoittamattomana
oli elämä edessäsi
ja sinä sanoit itsellesi
ennen kuin kaiken jätät
kaiken myös ymmärrät
nyt
kun käännyt katsomaan taaksesi
kun uskallat sen tehdä
näet elämän
yhtä suurena yhtä tavoittamattomana
ja poikasi näet
seisovan hautakivesi äärellä
pitäen kädestä jotakin konttorityttöä
(hautausmaan rauhassa heilläkin
on tilaisuus olla oma itsensä)
ja kuulet poikasi kuiskaavan
hänen suloiseen pikku korvaansa
salaisuuden jota sinä et ymmärtänyt
elämä on
(niin hän kuiskaa
ja hän tietää)
elämä on
life is
life confronted you
so great so unattainable
and you said to yourself
before you left it all
you would understand it all, too
now
when you’ve turned to look back
when you dare to do it
you see life
just as great just as unattainable
and you see your son
standing before your tombstone
holding the hand of some office girl
(in the cemetery’s calm they have
a chance to be themselves)
and you hear your son whispering
into her sweet little ear
the secret you didn’t understand
life is
(so he whispers
and he knows)
life is
Source: Jorma Etto, Suomalainen ja muut vaalitut (Oulu: Pohjoinen, 1985), p. 5. Photo and translation by Thomas H. Campbell
Anti Aircraft Warning
Photo by Living in FIN
Blueberry Tarte Tatin
Timjami (thyme) is my favorite word in Finnish, which is just as well because thyme is one of my favorite herbs. I have cooked it fresh countless times in traditional (apple) tarte tatin and various other dishes. I am sure it will not be out of place in this summertime pie, in which mustikka (blueberry), found throughout Finland’s extensive woodlands, replaces the apples (omenoita) usefully found in the famous French upside-down pie. {LIF}
Blueberry Tarte Tatin: The Summer’s Most Wonderful Pie Does a Somersault
Text: Mika Rampa • Photo: Satu Nyström
meillakotona.fi
The secret to the taste of the upside-down pie known as blueberry tarte tatin tarte is thyme, which deepens the blueberry’s woodsy flavor. Bake the little pies in blini pans (or other small ovenproof frying pans), so everyone gets his or her own individual serving.
Ingredients (4 servings)
Pastry Crust
75 grams butter (at room temperature)
1 deciliter sugar
1 egg
2 deciliters flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2–1 teaspoon cardamom
Filling
75 grams butter
1 deciliter brown sugar
8 sprigs thyme
3 tablespoons citrus liqueur*
3 deciliters blueberries
Serving
2 deciliters whipping cream (whipped)
Cooking time: 55 min {active–35 min; passive–20 min}
Bake blueberry tarte tatin as follows:
- Mix the butter and sugar in a bowl. Add the egg. Combine the flour, baking powder, and cardamom in another bowl. Add the flour mixture to the first bowl and mix until you have a smooth dough. Place it in the refrigerator.
- Add the butter, brown sugar, and thyme sprigs to a frying pan. Let simmer until the sugar has melted. Add the citrus liqueur and blueberries. Remove the pan from the stove.
- Press the dough on the pan or pans with a rolling pin. Make sure the pastry crust fits the pan exactly and it is on top of the blueberries.
- Bake the tarte tatin in an oven at 200 degrees Celsius for 20 to 30 minutes depending on the pan’s size.
- Put a plate over the baked pie and swiftly turn it upside down to serve.
* You can easily substitute lemon juice for the citrus liqueur.
Translated by Living in FIN
Aperol Spritz Cheesecake
This dessert combines cheesecake and my favorite cocktail, Aperol Spritz. The cheesecake contains alcohol, so you should be careful to whom you serve it. Alternately, the ingredients containing alcohol can be boiled, whereupon the alcohol evaporates.
The cheesecake’s bottom crust consists of minced Jaffa Orange Biscuits, which are perfect for it. The combination of the biscuit’s pastry crust, orange marmelade, and chocolate form a solid, tasty base for the cheesecake. The cheesecake itself is fashioned from orange-flavored cream cheese and orange juice, so you are in for a rather orangey treat.
The top layer is a refreshing mixture of Aperol and mineral water. I think it produces a gorgeous color and constitues the core of the entire cheesecake tastewise. It is topped with “ice cubes” made from chilled Prosecco mixed with gelatin sheets: a pretty fun imitation that looks like real ice.
This cheesecake can be recommended to all lovers of Aperol Spritz and anyone else who wants to try something new. Aperol Spritz Cheesecake can also be made in a springform pan, in which case the recipe should be doubled. A pan twenty centimeters in diameter should probably do for this purpose.
Aperol Spritz Cheesecake
Ingredients (two servings)
Crust
100 g Jaffa Orange Biscuits
Cream Cheese Filling
2 gelatin sheets
200 g orange-flavored cream cheese
1/2 dl orange juice
Aperol Jello
1 dl Aperol
1/2 dl mineral water
1 tbsp sugar
2 gelatin sheets
“Ice Cubes”
2 dl sparkling wine (Prosecco)
3 gelatin sheets
Prep time: 1 h 30 min
Cooking Directions
Chop the Jaffa Orange Biscuits into tiny bits with a knife and place at the bottom of the serving dishes. Press the crust down a bit into the dishes.
Place seven gelatin sheets in cold water and soak for at least five minutes.
Prepare the cream cheese filling by mixing the orange-flavored cream cheese and orange juice. Melt two gelatin sheets in the microwave for approximately ten seconds (remove the sheets from the water and place in a small bowl without squeezing out the excess water) and stir into the cream cheese mixture. Divide the mixture evenly among the serving dishes. Refrigerate until jelled.
Prepare the top layer by mixing the Aperol, mineral water, and sugar. Melt two gelatin sheets in the microwave for approximately ten seconds (remove the sheets from the water and place in a small bowl without squeezing out the excess water) and stir into the Aperol mixture. Pour the mixture on top of the cheesecake mixture. Refrigerate.
Prepare the “ice cubes” by melting three gelatin sheets in the microwave for approximately ten seconds. (Remove the sheets from the water and place in a small bowl without squeezing out the excess water.) Stir the melted gelatin sheets into the sparkling wine. Pour the mixture into a container, approximately fifteen centimeters square, in which clingwrap has been placed on the bottom. Refrigerate until set, approximately one hour.
Cut the sparkling wine jello into cubes and top the serving dishes with them. Garnish with a slice of orange at your discretion.
Source: Meillakotona.fi. Translated by Living in FIN
Eeva Kilpi, “The Moon Shines Brightly”
Kuu paistaa heleästi
kuollut ajaa keveästi,
elävää naitattaa.
Parempi on naida kuin palaa.
Parasti on naida salaa.
Sais yöllä syyä,
päivällä naia
ja aamulla nukkua.
The moon beams brightly,
pursuing the dead lightly,
making the living horny.
It’s better to fuck than fry.
It’s best to fuck on the sly.
You should nosh at night,
shag in the afternoon,
and snooze in the morning.
Source: Eeva Kilpi, Terveisin (WSOY, 1976), p 41. Translation and photo by Living in FIN
Eeva Kilpi, “Last Summer”
Valtra tractor with lumber trailer in Jyväskylä, Finland, May 5, 2011. Photo by Antti Leppänen
Viime kesänä jolloin en kirjoittanut
Jumala lähetti minulle miehiä.
Tänä vuonna kirjoitan metsässä myöhään syksyyn
ja eikös Hän toimita minulle polttopuita:
rojauttaa yhtiön metsätraktorista
kasan pölkkyjä vanhan saunani viereen.
Hän antaa hartioihini voiman raahata
ne liiteriin.
Kuka tietää, vaikka Hän itse ilmestyisi
ne jonakin päivänä sahamaan.
Tarpeeni kaikki tietää.
Pirukin kiertää paikkaa,
kauppaa tontteja, viittilöi mökkiäni,
loitsii turhaan rajoja.
Ei pysty paha noita-akkaan
jok’ on liitossa Jumalan kanssa,
kainalossa Kaikkivallan.
Linnut lähtevät,
ruoho kuolee,
minä jään.
Luoja lempii salaa.
Last summer, when I wasn’t writing,
God sent me men.
This year I’m writing in the woods until late autumn,
and perhaps He shall fetch me firewood,
dragging a pile of logs
from the association’s lumber tractor over to my old sauna.
He shall give my shoulders the strength to schlep
them into the shed.
Who knows? Maybe He Himself would appear
one day to saw them.
He knows all my needs.
The Devil sidesteps the place.
Selling lots, he waves towards my cottage,
hexing the borders to no avail.
Evil can do no harm to the witch lady
what is in league with God,
in the Almighty’s armpit.
The birds leave,
the grass dies,
I am staying.
The Creator makes love on the sly.
Source: Eeva Kilpi, Terveisin (WSOY, 1976), pp. 37–38. Translation by Thomas Campbell. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Hannu Salakka, “No One I Meet Here”
Kukaan,
jonka täällä tapaan,
ei ole täältä, enkä minäkään.
Vieraat ihmiset vain kulkevat ikkunan ohi
niinkuin aamut tuoden vastustamattomasti päivät,
viholliset
joita ei voi tappaa yhtä kerrallaan,
kasvoista kasvoihin,
ja yhdessä ne ovat voima
jolle ei voi mitään.
::::::::::::::::
No one
I meet here
is from here, and neither am I.
Strangers just walk past the window,
as the mornings irresistibly bring the days.
Enemies
who cannot be killed one at a time,
face to face,
while together they are a power
to whom nothing can be done.
—Hannu Salakka, Myötäisien tuulien risteyksessä (Otava, 1978), p. 70. Photo and translation by Living in FIN
Vilja-Tuulia Huotarinen, “The Quiet and the Blessed”
Hiljaisia ja autuaita ei valita pesäpallojoukkueseen,
me lähdemme uimaan pitkää matkaa.
Päivät solahtavat kyynarpäistä, iho tummuu
ja menee kurttuun. Meidan vaihtoehtomme
ovat vähäiset: tarttua puukkoon tai pudota.
Me olemme vedenneitoja jotka heittävät terän aaltoihin,
emme uhraa ketään, emme peri edes omaa sydäntämme.
Syvyyden päihtymys ei meihin ulotu eikä kiiman kaipuu.
Mutta tiedämme, miten liu’utaan kasvot pohjaan päin.
Miten niellään suolaista vettä ilman oksennusrefleksiä.
Laulamme yhteen ääneen yhtä ääntä, aina ihanaa,
päät nousevat laineiden keskeltä, keltaiset pyöreät pallot,
joita rannalla etsitään. Pinnalla kaikki on hyvin.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
The quiet and the blessed are not chosen for the baseball team:
We head out on a long, long swim.
The days slip off the elbows, the skin darkens
and wrinkles. Our choices
are few: catch the knife or fall.
We are water nymphs who toss the blade into the waves.
We sacrifice no one, we do not even inherit our own hearts.
Nitrogen narcosis does not get to us nor do we miss being in heat.
But we know how to glide face down in water.
How to swallow saltwater without gagging.
We sing in unison at the same volume, always marvelously.
Heads rise amid the waves, the round yellow balls
sought on shore. Everything on the surface is fine.
— Vilja-Tuulia Huotarinen, Sakset kädessä ei saa juosta (WSOY, 2004), p. 12
Photo of a swimmer in the Puulavesi and translation by Living in FIN
Living in FIN 