You are currently viewing presentiments inevitable as gravity
Odilon Redon, Pilgrim of a sublunar world, 1891, The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Language: Latvian
Poet: Pēters Brūveris
Translator: Inara Cedrins
Region: Latvia

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presentiments inevitable as gravity

A poem by Pēters Brūveris, translated by Inara Cedrins

Pēters Brūveris was born in Riga in 1957 and worked as a literary consultant to the newspaper Latvijas Jaunatne [Latvian Youth] and as the director of the literary department of the newspaper Literatura un Maksla [Art and Literature] for many years. Nine collections of his poetry were published in his lifetime. He also wrote four books for children. He translated and edited a collection of Turkish poetry entitled Courtyards Filled with Pigeons (1988, together with Uldis Bērziņš), and translated the works of many Lithuanian poets as well as poetry and prose from Azerbaijani, the Crimean Tatar language; Russian; German; and Prussian. His honors included the Days of Poetry Prize, the Award in Literature from the Baltic Assembly, and the National Prize for Best Book.

Inara Cedrins is an artist, writer, and translator from Latvian into English. In 2005–2006 she lived in Riga and taught Creative Writing at the University of Latvia. Her most recent book, Snake Alley, was published by Chinese Literature Press in 2014. She lives in Albuquerque, NM.

terra terror terra terror
preikšnojautas nenovēršamas kā gravitācija
un tu smagām acīm ainavu vēro
jūtot ka tevi nepareizi mācīja

kā ērkšķi pret debesīm gotistkās smailes
dievs tās jau pameta vakar
kas atliek? par daili apvārdot bailes
pirms melnas drānas uz spoguļiem sakar

izslēdz no dienas kārtības pēdējās ziņas
asiņains vējš griež vējdzirnavas
nevajag uzvaru ja tādas tās cīņas
vajag vien to kā tev nav bijis un nava

terra terror terra terror
presentiments inevitable as gravity
and with heavy eyes you view the landscape
feeling that you’ve been taught incorrectly

like thorns against the sky gothic spires
abandoned by god already yesterday
what remains? to charm away fear through art
before black cloth is draped over the mirrors

lock out from the day’s order the last news
a bloody wind causes the windmills to turn
victory’s not called for if such the battle
necessary only what has not been nor is

 

This poem appeared in Issue 6 of Circumference, Volume 3, Issue 2 • Autumn 2007 © 2007 circumference, Inc.