Picturesque Poetry

billions  of grains  of  sand fly  yonder

in   vastness   they converge

then   infallibly   enter

the     centre

of   life

its

I

and

set  free

from   pressure

flow calmly  down under

with   roots  to  thus  merge

the sandglass  is loved  and  turned over

*

This is one of the poems in my collection I self-published in Helsinki in 2006, quite a long time ago... Those were still very much print book days, so lately I've been thinking, why not utilize mod tech and present some of them on this platform, where a much wider audience, worldwide actually, can be reached. And since I these days live in a stunning place by the ocean, with soft sandy beaches and vast clear skies, I've chosen the ones that reflect those surroundings. Hope my lyric brings to you not only unforeseen inspiration and inner visions but also some warm summer vibes!

Pierced by Light, Author's Edition, Copyright Ⓒ Taija Mård 2006. Photo by Esa Karjalainen

 

I have carved

small barques

and placed a spark in each one.

Now I wish

I had the strength to blow them

all the way to your haven.

*

HERE UP NORTH

A crisp autumn day,

the world sending its gusts again,

and I shiver, chilled.

Comes your message, "Vorrei darti un bacio."

There,

I bask under the southern sun.

*

LIFE’S MOTHER-OF-PEARL

A salty river

empties itself into a fresh sea,

in the swell

the smell of a shell:

slowly forms

the pearl of love.

*

MY ELECTRIC MAN

Just plug it in,

and the temple of my soul

shall shine like the suns

in the seventh heaven.

*

Into my inner space you spray

billions of stars so fair.

Within lies the universe: emptiness > matter > birth

–  as there is

your milky way.

*
 

SHE AND HE AND THEIR LONG-DISTANCE

Darling, right now I see this beautiful river. Like the image of you it glitters so...

– Where does it come from? Where does it go?

I don’t know.

Oh, the moon that reminded me of you just disappeared! Its light was so miraculously pure...

– In which cardinal point did it itself immure?

I’m not really sure.

But when watching the stars I see your eyes. They are near...

– And what is the nearest sphere?

I couldn’t tell, dear.

The warm wind, however, caresses me like my heart your vow...

– What is the estimated wind force now?

I CAN’T UNDERSTAND HOW... (Well, mustn’t make a row.)

I just saw a bird of passage. I wish I could fly there as easily as it flies...

– To get there it flew about how many miles?

(Can’t figure out guys!) I think it’s time for goodbyes.

*

We are, together,

nothing but a mustard seed.

Yet we hear the birds of heaven sing:

”There is a tree we can nest in!”

*

Row calmly in the straits

The flow is the way

Each pull

widens the view

*

When you are down and see but haze,

you stare the ground:

in darkness you’ll be always bound.

Lift up your head and see: in space

there is no night

that isn’t pierced at all by light.

*

AUTUMN LEAVES

Autumn leaves fill up my path,

shining like the sun.

Autumn leaves,

winter comes,

summer stays in a grateful heart.

*

... And as an afterword, the preface of the book:

Like many Finns, also I've had a fondness for writing poems. However, many years ago they started to emerge in English, rising to another level and making me feel like I'd found my true voice – perhaps not so surprisingly, since even before starting English lessons at school at the age of twelve the language somehow felt very familiar to me, and also later in life I sought its company in one way or the other.

    I only wrote for my own pleasure, because living in Finland I understood the existence of the language barrier but neither the value of myself nor my work. My husband had a totally different approach, and thanks to his strong support, I finally sent the poems to a highly respectable publisher. The feedback was astounding: “Brilliant work.” But as expected, I was asked to translate all the material into Finnish, since they wouldn't publish anything in foreign languages.

    In the publishing houses of the English speaking world there was no room for a foreign author candidate and some weren't interested in any new writers at all. They were impenetrable; even most of my inquiries were ignored. I didn't get any help from literary or cultural institutions at home or abroad, either. After having tried all the routes it dawned on me that apparently I should move to an English speaking country, keep sending the manuscript to different publishers maybe for years, at first submit single poems to literary magazines and take part in competitions and perhaps eventually hire an expensive agent...

    So, wouldn't it have been easier to agree to translate? Well, I actually tried but like I'd always known, it was hopeless! Some of the poems did actually translate easily but most of them didn't. I should have just dumped them altogether or turned them into something else, the content of some should have been pruned heavily in order to maintain the form, and the form of others should have been broken in order to maintain the content... Why on earth would I do such a brutal operation to my own creations? English had inspired them and English they were based on. The language was the whole point, since without it they wouldn't even have been born!

    It is, of course, challenging to write in a foreign language, but so is translating! Although I have enjoyed translating into Finnish such poets as Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Robert Browning, Walt Whitman and e.e. cummings, many times the whole endeavour has felt questionable. One can even ask if it's even right since one has to compromise so very much. A poem is a unique work of art that can't be reproduced.

    So, that's how I ended up publishing this collection myself. Now my poems really exist, and the book will endure.