Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Yi Sha

PORTRAIT OF A SCANDINAVIAN POET

1

His bearing when he sings is that of an Italian
When he drinks he’s physically gone and mentally there like a Russian alky
Yet he’s pure Aryan
An out-and-out Swedish poet
Occasionally – but only occasionally
He’s had notions of moving to Norway
The salary this neighboring land pays writers
Is ten times that of his

2

It’s said he’s the number three poet in Sweden
That in his prime
His portrait was everywhere
On the walls of the Metro in Stockholm
This spring, he came to Kunming
And in a rooftop Chinese garden
He issues a warning to Chinese colleagues
“Beware Romanticism”
He says: “I’m a bit pessimistic about Chinese poetry”
But quickly adds: “Two three years ago”

3

The day of recitations at the poetry festival
He spends reclining in a hotel room
Conserving energy as he reverently awaits
The arrival of the rite of a poet’s life
At dusk in a mini-van on its way to the venue
He treats everyone to cocktails
Decocted from strawberry juice and Chinese spirits
Of course he drinks the most
That evening the recital is well received
And that night
His efforts to get us into a bar
Get no response

4

The next day at breakfast
In the notepad of the female group-leader
He draws the lifelike figure of a female nude
We feel immediate relief
So! He wants some of that
After thinking it through all night
A slapdash Chinese poetry critic surmises
“It’s a metaphor – he wants bread”
Later we finally figure it out
He wanted coffee and the companion too

5

I’m arranged to be at an outside venue
Following the leisurely notes of an ancient zither
During my recital in the ‘Collection Among the Flowers’ teahouse
His performance in the audience
Especially catches the eye
He grins like an idiot
His look when not smiling
Also over the top
When he asks for a book of my poetry
I’ve just given away the last copy

6

A well-intentioned older Chinese lady
Notices he doesn’t change shirts during the week
He’ll first go to Thailand on the way back to Sweden
Leading to knowing laughs from the men
On that last night
I don’t even have time to say goodbye
He seems like a phantom
As he slips into an outside bar
And I see no more of him
But now I remember
The night we stayed at the Stone Forest
While he hovered
Over a pretty Thai girl flirtatious as a snake
He’d also seemed something of a ghost

PORTRET VAN EEN NOORD-EUROPESE DICHTER

1

Zijn zanghouding lijkt op die van een Italiaan
als hij drinkt lijkt hij een Russische zatlap – vrij van vorm maar niet van geest
maar hij is een zuivere Germaan
een door en door Zweedse dichter
af en toe – alleen af en toe
komt het ineens in hem op om naar Noorwegen te verhuizen
het honorarium dat het buurland aan schrijvers betaalt
is tien keer hoger dan in zijn moederland

2

Hij schijnt tot de top-drie van Zweedse dichters te horen
in zijn gloriejaren
hing in de metro in Stockholm
overal zijn portret
deze lente kwam hij naar Kunming
op de bloemenzolder van China
waarschuwde hij zijn Chinese vakgenoten
‘pas op voor romantiek’
hij zei: ‘ik was nogal negatief over de Chinese poëzie’
maar voegde meteen toe: ‘een paar jaar geleden’

3

Op de dag van de podiumvoordracht op het poëziefestival
lag hij de hele dag te slapen in zijn hotelkamer
zijn krachten sparend en in eerbiedige afwachting
van de rituele komst van het dichterlijke leven
in de schemering op weg naar de plaats van de voordracht
onderhield hij iedereen in de minibus
met een cocktail van aardbeiensap en Chinese brandewijn
natuurlijk dronk hij zelf het meest
die avond kreeg zijn voordracht grote bijval
die avond, na afloop van de voordracht,
kreeg zijn aansporing om naar de rosse buurt te gaan
geen bijval

4

De volgende ochtend bij het ontbijt
tekende hij in het notitieboek van de vrouwelijke chef
een levensechte naakte vrouw
wij voelden ons flink opgelucht
ah! dat wilde hij dus!
na er nog een hele nacht over te hebben gedacht
opperden wat waardeloze Chinese poëziecritici
‘het is een metafoor – hij wil brood’
uiteindelijk dachten we het helemaal te hebben begrepen
hij wilde koffie en verlangde gezelschap

5

Ik was buiten het theater geprogrammeerd
en tijdens mijn voordracht in het theehuis Tussen de bloemen
na een uitvoering van een trage Chinese citer
verscheen hij in het publiek
heel opzichtig
lachend als een idioot
en als hij niet lachte
leek hij te vliegen
toen hij mij om mijn dichtbundel vroeg
had ik net mijn laatste exemplaar vergeven
6

Een vriendelijke Chinese vrouw
merkte op dat hij al de hele week hetzelfde overhemd droeg
om zijn reisroute – via Thailand terug naar Zweden –
lachten de mannen meewarig
de laatste avond
was er zelfs geen tijd meer voor afscheid
ik zag hem als een geest
een bar bij het theater binnen schieten
daarna was hij verdwenen
ik herinnerde me dit zomaar ineens weer
op een avond dat ik in het Stenen Woud bij Kunming verbleef
en hij aan de zij van een Dai zangeresje, koket als een slang
heen en weer drentelde
eveneens als een geest

Close

PORTRAIT OF A SCANDINAVIAN POET

1

His bearing when he sings is that of an Italian
When he drinks he’s physically gone and mentally there like a Russian alky
Yet he’s pure Aryan
An out-and-out Swedish poet
Occasionally – but only occasionally
He’s had notions of moving to Norway
The salary this neighboring land pays writers
Is ten times that of his

2

It’s said he’s the number three poet in Sweden
That in his prime
His portrait was everywhere
On the walls of the Metro in Stockholm
This spring, he came to Kunming
And in a rooftop Chinese garden
He issues a warning to Chinese colleagues
“Beware Romanticism”
He says: “I’m a bit pessimistic about Chinese poetry”
But quickly adds: “Two three years ago”

3

The day of recitations at the poetry festival
He spends reclining in a hotel room
Conserving energy as he reverently awaits
The arrival of the rite of a poet’s life
At dusk in a mini-van on its way to the venue
He treats everyone to cocktails
Decocted from strawberry juice and Chinese spirits
Of course he drinks the most
That evening the recital is well received
And that night
His efforts to get us into a bar
Get no response

4

The next day at breakfast
In the notepad of the female group-leader
He draws the lifelike figure of a female nude
We feel immediate relief
So! He wants some of that
After thinking it through all night
A slapdash Chinese poetry critic surmises
“It’s a metaphor – he wants bread”
Later we finally figure it out
He wanted coffee and the companion too

5

I’m arranged to be at an outside venue
Following the leisurely notes of an ancient zither
During my recital in the ‘Collection Among the Flowers’ teahouse
His performance in the audience
Especially catches the eye
He grins like an idiot
His look when not smiling
Also over the top
When he asks for a book of my poetry
I’ve just given away the last copy

6

A well-intentioned older Chinese lady
Notices he doesn’t change shirts during the week
He’ll first go to Thailand on the way back to Sweden
Leading to knowing laughs from the men
On that last night
I don’t even have time to say goodbye
He seems like a phantom
As he slips into an outside bar
And I see no more of him
But now I remember
The night we stayed at the Stone Forest
While he hovered
Over a pretty Thai girl flirtatious as a snake
He’d also seemed something of a ghost

PORTRAIT OF A SCANDINAVIAN POET

1

His bearing when he sings is that of an Italian
When he drinks he’s physically gone and mentally there like a Russian alky
Yet he’s pure Aryan
An out-and-out Swedish poet
Occasionally – but only occasionally
He’s had notions of moving to Norway
The salary this neighboring land pays writers
Is ten times that of his

2

It’s said he’s the number three poet in Sweden
That in his prime
His portrait was everywhere
On the walls of the Metro in Stockholm
This spring, he came to Kunming
And in a rooftop Chinese garden
He issues a warning to Chinese colleagues
“Beware Romanticism”
He says: “I’m a bit pessimistic about Chinese poetry”
But quickly adds: “Two three years ago”

3

The day of recitations at the poetry festival
He spends reclining in a hotel room
Conserving energy as he reverently awaits
The arrival of the rite of a poet’s life
At dusk in a mini-van on its way to the venue
He treats everyone to cocktails
Decocted from strawberry juice and Chinese spirits
Of course he drinks the most
That evening the recital is well received
And that night
His efforts to get us into a bar
Get no response

4

The next day at breakfast
In the notepad of the female group-leader
He draws the lifelike figure of a female nude
We feel immediate relief
So! He wants some of that
After thinking it through all night
A slapdash Chinese poetry critic surmises
“It’s a metaphor – he wants bread”
Later we finally figure it out
He wanted coffee and the companion too

5

I’m arranged to be at an outside venue
Following the leisurely notes of an ancient zither
During my recital in the ‘Collection Among the Flowers’ teahouse
His performance in the audience
Especially catches the eye
He grins like an idiot
His look when not smiling
Also over the top
When he asks for a book of my poetry
I’ve just given away the last copy

6

A well-intentioned older Chinese lady
Notices he doesn’t change shirts during the week
He’ll first go to Thailand on the way back to Sweden
Leading to knowing laughs from the men
On that last night
I don’t even have time to say goodbye
He seems like a phantom
As he slips into an outside bar
And I see no more of him
But now I remember
The night we stayed at the Stone Forest
While he hovered
Over a pretty Thai girl flirtatious as a snake
He’d also seemed something of a ghost
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
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Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
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