Archive for September, 1992
Burgundian rain
Issue 3/1992 | Archives online, Fiction, poetry
from Burgundiska sviten (‘Burgundian suite’, Schildts, 1966). Introduction by Tuva Korsström
and if we could reach our Burgundian boundaries
you close to mine and I closer to yours than mine
and there see far beyond all boundaries
and there see jar beyond all shores
and there see far beyond all seas
and the ice blocks which this winter’s day
are brought heaving from below and the numbed cliffs
and ice-shattered shores vanish
and before us lies our open
quite open and naked sea More…
Word for word
Issue 3/1992 | Archives online, Fiction, poetry
Poems from Falla (Eurydike) [‘Falling (Eurydice)’, Söderström & Co., 1991]. Introduction by Michel Ekman
a murderer who is running through the culverts of a hypermodern
high-rise complex asks desperately about possible ways out if he meets anyone,
he does not express himself symbolically,
in a locked room he writes poems no one understands, what he
writes is real –
you came to me at night you asked me to do something, I did it, for I am possessed, by you (fixed image!) in me, by myself by your constant flight out of me, incomplete by my flight –
now you are changed: I love your fleetingness
your flight is in vain –
what’s done is done More…
Poems with rounded corners
Issue 3/1992 | Archives online, Fiction, poetry
Poems from Talvirunoja (‘Winter poems’, Art House, 1990) and Runot! Runot (‘Poems! Poems’, WSOY, 1992)
A prayer for the trees and the rocks
Around noon I start praying for the trees and the rocks to whom we have always been merciless. What have we done? What are we doing?
In the valley of the scribbling species
Man and Woman are two animal species, sufficiently close to allow procreation. They live in a cage called The Human Being, in a place known as the Valley of the Scribbling Species. Woman is the more important animal But Man built the cage.
The dog
Issue 3/1992 | Archives online, Fiction, Prose
From the collection of short stories Matka Grönlannin halki (‘A journey across Greenland’, Tammi, 1992)
The water in this town tasted of shit. Unto swallowed a couple of mouthfuls, gargled the rest and spat it into the wash-basin. The taste of garlic and old booze disappeared and only a flavour of metal remained on his palate. Unto glanced at the mirror and began to fumble for a comb. The bags under his eyes were flushed.
He pulled a clean shirt from his suitcase, and suddenly remembered how Mervi smelt in bed. There was a stirring in his groin, and unconsciously Unto sniffed at his shirt-sleeve as he buttoned his cuffs. In front of the mirror, he straightened the hem of his cardigan, combed his moustache and drew a deep breath. He felt like some meat soup. More…
Jingle-bells
Issue 3/1992 | Archives online, Fiction, Prose
An extract from Täällä Pohjantähden alla (‘Here beneath the North Star’), part one, chapter five. Introduction by Pekka Tarkka
Tähti, the rectory’s black carriage-horse, trotted from croft to croft, flashing his white spats. In the sledge, behind the driver, was the rector’s wife, wearing her husband’s heavy fur coat and sitting up very straight.
She began at Koskela. Jussi had finished his rent-work for the week, so she had to drive out to the croft. The little sleigh-bells tinkled so prettily that the boys overcame their shyness and came outside to marvel. These were quite unlike the simple, tinny ‘jingles’ that the old crofters had on their sledges: there was a whole row of bells attached to each half of the smart leather harness-saddle, and they sang out pleasantly and musically every time the highly-strung thoroughbred moved or even quivered. Vilppu could hardly claim to belong to the same species as this splendid creature. The boys had never before seen Tähti at such close quarters. He had wonderful blue-black eyes, and a soft pink muzzle. More…
Burnt orange
Issue 3/1992 | Archives online, Drama, Fiction
Extracts from the play Poltettu oranssi (‘Burnt orange‘): ‘a ballad in three acts concerning the snares of the world and the blood’. Introduction by Tuula Hökkä
The scene is a small town in the decade before the First World War
Cast:
DR FROMM
an imperial,bearded middle-aged gentleman
ERNEST KLEIN
a moustached, ageing, slightly shabby leather-manufacturer
AMANDA KLEIN
his wife, well-preserved, forceful, angular
MARINA KLEIN
their daughter, shapely, withdrawn, wary
NURSE-RECEPTIONIST
open, direct, not too ‘common’
ACT ONE
Scene two
After a short interval the receptionist opens the door and ushers Marina Klein into the surgery. Exit the receptionist. Marina immediately goes to the end of the room and presses herself against the white wall. The white surface makes her look very isolated in her ascetic black dress. The Doctor, who now appears to be headless – an impression produced by the lighting and the yellowish background – half-turns towards her. More…
World noises
Issue 3/1992 | Archives online, Fiction, Prose
Poems from Fahrenheit 121 (1968) and Jos suru savuaisi (‘If grief should smoulder’, 1968). Introduction by Tuula Hökkä
For truth to tell
I like horses most
creating Those
It came off best
*
Morning came to the meadow;
horses were born out of mist.
How quiet they were:
one leant a head on his master’s armour,
his breath rose warm,
his moist eye gleamed in the daybreak,
his coat a casbah carpet-weaver’s hand-woven pile,
his muzzle softer than a phallus. More…