The Baxter’s Van
he could thole the skelfs o steel, shairp an wee,
shot throu his craig, his kist, his saft dern thairm
– he cowps a creel o scones wi a vexed airm –
but reichsprotektor Heydrich canna dree
the buhlitts lowsed in anger at his caur
thae Czech keelies, their faces white an soor
raxin, ettlin for his life: wha wid daur,
when aw ken he could chaw them intae stoor?
his ambulance, stapped wi baps, rolls, bannocks,
skitters on the causey stanes an shoogles
the bomb-shards in his wame. He hoasts, panics
as peerie dauds fae his thrawn Nazi tweed
skails slow venom intil his harigals;
an in his neb, the reek o fresh-baked breid.
Translations of this Poem
Pekařský vůz
Translator: Alexandra Büchler
Drobounké, ostré střepy šrapnelu,
Které mu pronikly hrdlem, hrudí, skrytým měkkým střevem
ty snese—bezvládnou paží převrátí koš pečiva.
Rány vypálené v hněvu na jeho vůz
Však říšský protektor Heydrich vystát nemůže
Jak se tihle čeští lumpové s bílými, zatrpklými tvářemi
Opovažují ukládat mu o život, když vědí,
Že je může všechny naráz rozdrtit?
Sanitka naložená buchtami, rohlíky a chlebem
dostane na kluzké dlažbě smyk a v břiše
se mu pohnou střepy šrapnelu. Heydrich se rozkašle
propadne panice, zatímco se mu útrobami
šíří jed z cárů sukna nacistické uniformy
a v nozdrách vůně čerstvého chleba.
Der Bäckerwagen
Translator: Esther Kinsky
Die Stahlsplitter konnte er erdulden, klein und scharf
in Nacken, Brust und weich-verborgnen Eingeweiden,
– an einen Korb mit Wecken stößt sein ungehaltner Arm –
doch nicht ertragen kann der Reichsprotektor Heydrich
die Kugeln, die sie zornig auf sein Auto schießen,
Tschechenrüpel, die Gesichter sauer, weiß,
die rangeln, ihm ans Leben wollen, wie vermessen,
da jeder weiß, daß er sie doch zu Staub zerreibt.
Sein Rettungswagen, voll mit Schrippen, Buchteln
schlittert auf dem Asphalt, in seinem Bauch
wirbelt der Schrot, er hustet, Panik faßt ihn,
da Härchen von dem groben Nazituch
langsames Gift in sein Gedärm entlassen,
und in die Nase steigt ihm Duft von frischem Brot.
Fan y Pobydd
Translator: Mererid Puw Davies
Gallai odde’r darnau dur, yn finiog fân
Trwy’i wddf a’i frest a’i berfedd meddal, gwan
Ond (mae’n taro’n pentwr pice’n flin hyd lawr)
Yr hyn all mo’i stumogi, fo’r dyn mawr
Oedd bwledi daniodd dicter yn ei wyneb
A’r gwehilion o frodorion sur a gwelw
Yn crafangu tuag ato. Sut meiddiai neb
A hwythau’n dallt y gall eu malu’n llwch?
A’i ambiwlans â’i llond o dorth a theisen
Yn siglo hyd y stryd, fe ry ysgytiad
I’r teilchion yn ei fol. Mae’n tagu. Dychryn.
A’r carpiau rwygwyd mas o rhwysg ei ddillad
Yn datod trwy’i wythiennau’n wenwyn araf
Ac yn ei ffroenau, oglau’r bara gwyn.
About this poem
‘Voyages & versions / Tursan is Tionndaidhean’ was the title of the translation workshop run by the Scottish Poetry Library and Literature Across Frontiers 12-18 May 2003. The group consisted of Petr Borkovec (Czech Republic), Mererid Puw Davies (Wales), Jakub Ekier (Poland), Matthew Fitt (Scotland), Rody Gorman (Scotland), Milan Jesih (Slovenia), Doris Kareva (Estonia), Esther Kinsky (England) and Aled Llion (Wales). The group spent days at Moniack Mhor writing centre in the Highlands, returned to the Library in Edinburgh and went up to Dundee Contemporary Arts, and gave multi-lingual readings, producing what was, in effect, an hour’s sound-poem. Several of the poets mentioned their sense of renewed faith in poetry – how refreshed they felt by the chance to look closely at their own and others’ work in company with people whose aesthetics might be quite different but whose skills and passion were recognisably similar.
When is a bannock not a bannock? When it’s a Czech roll. This is not a riddle or a joke, but a real translation problem: the cake problem – how to translate culturally significant food. If you write about an event in Czech history, as Matthew Fitt did in his poem ‘The Baxter’s Van’, and write in Scots, then the contents of the baker’s van will include bannocks: a puzzle to Matthew’s Czech translator, who was almost indignant about the morning roll’s Scottish recreation – and it reverted to something plainer in her translation.
This is the kind of discussion that best takes place in person – the German translator was drawn in, too (an unexpected affinity between German and Scots was discovered in the course of the workshop) – and represents just a fragment of the practical concerns that occupied the gathering of poets and translators.
