5 Poems Translated by Cynthia Graae and Michael Favala Goldman
Five poems from
The Adults by Tove Ditlevsen
Original title: De Voksne Ⓒ 1969
Translated from the Danish
by Cynthia Graae and Michael Favala Goldman
with permission of Gyldendal Publishing
Death 2
The old man
rises early.
Not all
his thoughts
can be collected.
Like children always on the move
and out too late
they stumble and scrape their shins
on Jylland’s roads.
He sits quietly on
a bench in the sun.
The other old people
rarely speak to him.
He is hard of hearing and strange
he reads books
rarely receives
letters or visitors.
He is the oldest of them
he must be brought in
by an attendant
when it’s time to eat.
His hands shake
violently nothing
serious the doctor shouts
in his ear.
Trolleys rattle
right through the room.
The old man knows
he is a great-grandfather.
His eldest son is sixty
and time runs out
like raindrops along
a backyard downspout.
He falls asleep and
dreams of his wife
who is always young
in his memory.
She unpacks a lunch
in Søndermarken
and plays with their
spindly, growing children.
He wakes many times
feels pain
in his lower back is alone
and confused
and very far from
joy and sorrow.
Tomorrow he will get
a hearing aid.
Death is as
distant as the horizon.
Døden 2
Den gamle mand
står tidligt op.
Hans tanker
kan ikke alle
kaldes hjem til cellen.
Som børn der altid er
for sent på færde
snubler de og slår skank
på jyske veje.
Han sidder stille på
en bænk i solen.
De andre gamle
taler sjældent til ham.
Han er lidt døv og sær
han læser bøger
får næsten aldrig
breve og besøg.
Han er den ældste af dem
han må hentes
af plejeren når han
skal ind at spise.
Hans hænder ryster
voldsomt ikke noget
alvorligt råber lægen
ind i øret.
Sporvogne rasler
tværs igennem stuen.
Den gamle ved
at han er oldefar.
Hans ældste søn er tres
og tiden rinder
som dråber langs
en baggårds nedløbsrør.
Han sover ind og
drømmer om sin kone
som altid kun er ung
i hans erindring.
Hun pakker maden ud
i Søndermarken
og leger med
de smalle voksebørn.
Han vågner mange gange
føler smerte
i lænden er alene
og forvirret
og meget langt fra
lykke og fra sorg.
I morgen får han
høreapparatet.
Døden er så
fjern som horisonten.
Longing
I long
to age
to be dulled
and calcify
with taste buds
that are only excited
by strong
spices
with eyes that
only see
very bright
colors
and ears that
only hear
the most intense
noise.
I long for
oblivion
to
all
life’s sorrows
for the dimming
of emotions
clinging
to
that which is dead and
gone
which no one
remembers
which no one
can affect
or change
in any way.
I long
for brittleness
and aching in
all my bones.
Protection
until death
against all kinds of
desire.
Protection
against the blood’s
doomed
heated rage
and in the small
of my back
the white pain
of absence.
Life feels
so
long
these
spring nights
with their
cruel sweetness
for one who
is alone.
Oh let me
age quickly
and desire
nothing
and never again
be desired
except by
my death.
Længsel
Jeg længes efter
at ældes
at sløves
og forkalke
med smagsløg
der kun pirres
af stærke
krydderier
me øjne der
kun ser
de meget klare
farver
og øren der
kun hører
den voldsomste
støj.
Jeg længes
mod glemslen
af alle
livets sørger
mod følelsernes
blegnen
og klamren
sig til
det døde og
forsvunde
som ingen
andre husker
som ingen
kan berøre
og ændre
noget ved.
Jeg længes
efter skørhed
og værk i
alle knogler.
Sikkerhed
til døden
mod alle slags
begær.
Sikkerhed
mod blodets
fordømte
hede rasen
og savnets
hvide smerte
over den
trætte lænd.
Så langt
dog livet
føles
i disse
forårsnætter
med deres
onde sødme
for den som
er alene.
Å lad mig
hastigt ældes
og ingenting
begære
og aldrig mer
begæres
af andre
end min død.
Divorce 3
It is not easy
to be alone
other people
have impatient
waiting-room eyes.
The floor pulls
the steps out from
under you.
You hang on by
your arms from
hour to hour.
A vocabulary
of about
a hundred words
was not
divided up.
The yearning for
something unpleasant
the absence of
strong smells.
Stale smoke
in the curtains.
The bed is
now too wide.
Your girlfriends leave
when it’s time to put on potatoes.
Freedom
arrives
on the next train
an unknown
traveler
who is not
fond of children.
The dog is
agitated
sniffs at
the wrong trouser legs
will soon
be in heat.
You read
books
watch television
comprehend
nothing
are suddenly
very happy
in the morning
and disconsolate
by evening.
It is a phase
say your girlfriends
something you have to
go through.
Weightless as an
astronaut
you hover
in empty rooms
and wait
for the freedom
to do
what you
no longer
want.
Skilsmisse 3
Det er ikke let
at være alene
andre mennesker
har utålmodige
ventesalsøjne.
Gulvet trækker
skridtene bort
under en.
Man går
armgang fra
time til time.
Et ordforråd
på cirka
hundrede
kom ikke med
i bodelingen.
Savnet efter
noget ubehageligt
manglen på
stærke lugte.
Kold røg
i gardinerne.
Sengen er
for brød nu.
Veninderne går
ved kartoffeltid.
Fridheden
kommer først
med næste tog
en ukendt
rejsende
der ikke
holder af børn.
Hunden er
urolig
snuser til
forkerte bukseben
har snart
løbetid.
Man læser
bøger
ser fjernsyn
opfatter
ingenting
er pludselig
meget lykkelig
om morgenen
og fortvivlet
inden aften.
Det er en overgang
siger veninderne
noget man skal
igennem.
Vægtløs som en
astronaut
svæver man rundt
i tomme stuer
og venter
på friheden
til at gøre
hvad man
ikke mere
lar lyst til.
The Adults 1
In the morning
yearning is
detached from its object
and is like
a thirst
no earthly
spring can quench.
The longing is
not for anyone
in particular
only life is
divided into a
before and after.
Once
it was good
to wake
and know
you were
only dreaming.
Now you are living
inside the dream
and know that
in reality
all the
adults are away
and are never
coming home.
De voksne 1
Om morgenen
er savnet
løst fra sin genstand
og er som
en tørst
ingen jordisk
kilde kan slukke.
Længslen gælder
ikke nogen
bestemt
kun er livet
delt i et
før og efter.
Før var
det godt
at vågne
og vide
man kun
havde drømt.
Nu bor man
inde i drømmen
og ved det
er virkelighed
at alle
de voksne er borte
og aldrig
kommer hjem.
Tove Ditlevsen (1917-1976) was one of the most notable Danish literary personalities of the twentieth century. She enjoyed great popularity as a writer of both poetry and prose. She used her poor upbringing, her fragile psyche, and her long-standing problems with relationships and narcotics as sources of inspiration for her writing. The result was a long list of unique, honest, uncompromising works with which countless readers have identified. Ditlevsen wrote more than 30 books, including the three memoirs of The Copenhagen Trilogy, recently published in translation by Penguin Classics and FSG.
Danish translator Michael Favala Goldman (b. 1966) is also a poet, educator and jazz clarinetist. Among his sixteen translated books are Dependency by Tove Ditlevsen, The Water Farm Trilogy by Cecil Bødker, and Something To Live Up To, Selected Poems of Benny Andersen. Goldman’s books of original poetry include Who has time for this? (2020), Slow Phoenix (2021) and Small Sovereign (2021). His work has appeared in numerous literary journals and has received rave reviews in the New York Times and The London Times. He lives in Massachusetts, USA, where he has been running poetry critique groups since 2018. www.michaelfavalagoldman.com
Cynthia Graae’s fiction, nonfiction, and translation have been published in the Westview News, Kinder Link, The Washington Review, Paragraph, The Bridge, Canadian Women Studies: les cahiers de la femme, the Hill Rag, Humans in the Wild (a Swallow Press anthology about gun violence), and online on the HuffPost, Barren Magazine, and Maine Public websites. She is currently working on a collection of stories. She lives in New York City and Hiram, Maine.
9 December 2021
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