Autumn Translation

Thirty years ago today I translated a short poem by the Finnish poet Jaarko Laine into English. The poem in translation goes like this:

The streetlamp sways.
Withered leaves fly above the street:
Death’s butterflies.

**
Poetry is unlike the sister arts in it’s compression–call it Vorticism, Imagism, Amygism–Zen Plop–the attenuated, hypno-Tibetan lives of all and of our ancestors can be played out in a mere 3 lines. One can never get enough of that.
Especially in autumn with the mad leaves.

S.K.

Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by stevekuusisto