Vases

The art of poetry translation is - like Sudoku (to which I am utterly hooked) - thoroughly mind-boggling. The ability to fit the full meaning and sense of a poem from one language into another, whilst retaining the feel and intensity of the original, is almost a holy grail in the world of translation. The aphorostic work of the Finnish poet Eila Kivikk'aho offers the translator a particular challenge: a vast body of her poems are written in haiku or tanka form, allowing only a given number of syllables per line (5-7-5 or 5-7-5-7-7 respectively). Here is one I translated several years ago, perhaps this will encourage me to have a go at some others.

'Ruukut'

En ole enää
sirpaleitten varassa.
Sain ehjän onnen.
Mitä kätken sen maljaan?
-Vanhan ruukun kappaleet.

(Eila Kivikk'aho)


'Vases'

No longer shall I
stand amidst the shards. I have
received pristine joy.
What shall I hide within it?
-The pieces of my old vase.

(trans. DH)