After the fierce competition between Britain, France, Denmark, Sweden, Italy, Portugal, Spain, Ukraine and other countries, the European Championship decisive battle was on the verge of breaking out, and finally Italy won the championship.
If the poetry woven in language also has the European Cup, it must be indispensable to the French poet Max Jacob; Portuguese poetry will probably send the symbolist poets Pisanye and Pessoa; Emily Dickinson and Ashbery in English poetry will also participate; in addition, there are modernist Swedish female poetess Soudegran, Danish contemporary female poet Piaz Tafdrup, Spanish avant-garde poet Vallejo, Russian poetic futurism founder Mayakovsky ... Now the poems of these poets are collected into the "New Nine Leaves Translation Poems", open this book, who is the laureate poet in your mind?
Although the collection does not include the italian poems of this year's champion, we can see the outstanding achievements of the Italian hermitage in the context of French symbolist literature (such as Valéry translated by Ginger Hill in the poetry collection), while Guillaume Apollinaire, although a French poet with Italian ancestry, is also worthy of attention.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="28" > Portuguese lineup</h1>
Born in Lisbon, Portugal, he is best known for his poetry collection The Mission and is considered the greatest Portuguese-speaking writer after Cammons.
I have only been in love once in my life, but I have written my life to the end. "The moment we lived, it was dark night" "We never loved anyone." What we love is the view of someone, our own idea of ourselves— ourselves. The master of self-divisive writing, the translator Min Xuefei commented on "an interesting neurosis." The king of the poetic world is the loser of the secular world. A lifetime of willingness to "do nothing", "his life except his poetry, nothing surprising" is the harshest denial, but also the most extreme praise.
"It is my destiny to always be an accountant, and poetry and literature are butterflies that rest on my head for a while, merely using their extraordinary beauty to set off my own absurdity." The "selfless" is precisely the extreme liberator of thought, the invisible man of the real world, wandering in another world, grazing the sheep of thought under the night sky where the moon hangs high.
Shepherd in Love (Excerpt)
The amorous shepherd loses the shepherd's stick,
The sheep ran scattered on the hillside,
He fell into contemplation, so did not blow the flute.
No one came to him and didn't disappear... He could never get his shepherd's stick back.
The others, cursing him, helped him gather the flock.
In fact, no one has ever loved him.
When he got up from the hillside, from the false truth, he saw everything:
The huge valley, as always, is full of different shades of green,
The lofty mountains in the distance, so real, are more than any emotion.
The whole reality coexists with the sky, the air, and the fields,
He felt the air pouring freedom into his chest again, accompanied by pain.
Translated by Yao Feng
Born in Coimbra. Graduated from the Faculty of Law of the University of Coimbra in 1891. In April 1894, he came to Macau to teach at The Lee Hsiao High School and its affiliated Business College, and left behind a collection of poems called "Dripping Leaks". The Drip is regarded as a model of Portuguese symbolist poetry and had a profound and lasting influence on later Portuguese poets.
As the link between modernism and Romanticism, symbolism's ideological core is also an extension and sublimation of the "melancholy" of the Romantics, that is, the later "disease of the century". Walking through The poetry of Pisanye, one can also feel the decadence, bitterness and despair in the poet's soul, which is rooted in the opposition between the "self" and the world and the insoluble contradictions between the two.
road
I
I had an ominous dream: a throbbing heart
I couldn't sort out the worries of the premature invasion.
I rushed to the tip of the wave of the future with trepidation,
What is thirsty is the memory of the present...
Remembering this pain,
I took the trouble
I can't get it out of my heart,
The setting sun is going to cut a piece of darkness,
Put the black veil over my heart! ......
Suffering is the loss of harmony.
At this time the sky, put a weak light
Throw yourself into the sick soul,
There is no pain, and the soul is deserted:
A round of the sun extinguished the dawn,
It was at dawn and the heart was weeping.
II
One day you met me on the road,
Where am I going? I was also dazed.
- Hello, dude! - I greet you,
Alone on the road, the road can not be finished.
What a long road ahead, full of thorns!
You rest your feet, and I stop to catch my breath...
We stayed together in a roadside inn,
Drink a bottle of wine and feel sorry for each other.
Wild mountains and lonely hills, difficult roads,
The rubble of the crucifixion stabbed his feet,
And the hot sand is scorching... therefore
We each weep in sorrow in wine...
Tears flow into our wine glasses:
We drink the tears of common.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="22" > Swedish lineup</h1>
One of the earliest modernist writers in the history of European literature, an outstanding explorer of Swedish and Finnish literature. Growing up in a multilingual environment, he lacked cultural identity. At the age of 14, he tried to write poetry in German, and two years later gave up writing poetry in German and switched to Swedish. Feminist ideas were heavily influenced by mothers. The main collection of poems, Poems—several poems in this collection that express her feminist ideas, such as "The Day Gets Cold" and "Modern Women"—and the posthumous collection of poems, The Non-Existent Kingdom. A lifetime of wrestling with tuberculosis. In 1909, Sodergrand was diagnosed with tuberculosis and went to Arosa, Switzerland, to recuperate. In Switzerland, it was love at first sight for a doctor with a husband.- In 1917, the doctor died, and their extramarital affair ended, writing "Trees in the Forest" summarizing the sad memories in Switzerland. After returning to China, affected by the Russian Civil War, the family fell into the middle of the road, and poverty continued for a lifetime.
He was nameless before he died, and he was famous after his death. The ups and downs of life allowed her to deeply understand life and suffering; atheism allowed her to have the prophets of God; feminism gave her the edge to reflect on modern times. Love, loneliness and death are the portraits of her life, and she writes them into poetry in a rough, free form.
Winds in all directions
No birds flew into my hidden corners,
No swallows bring concerns,
No seagull predicts a storm...
I watch my wildness in the shadow of the reef,
Prepare to escape the subtle noises, the approaching footsteps...
Silence and blue are my world, that joyful...
I have a door that opens for the wind coming from all sides.
I have a golden gate that opens to the east—for the love that has not yet arrived,
I have a door open for daylight, a door open for sorrow,
I have a door open for death – it keeps open.
Translated by Li Kasa
Famous Danish contemporary poetess, essayist, novelist. The works are mainly love poems, written frankly, warmly, and full of the style of southern European poets. Her poems have been translated into more than twenty languages, with major collections of poems: Porta du Queen (1998), The Whales of Paris (2002), and The Poetry Collection Walking on water (1997). She has twice come to China to participate in poetry festivals.
Traces of memory
The stars live like this during the day:
It's like a beam of light behind your closed eye curtain
A mark on your forehead
The tree in the dream blossoms with flowers
There is no formula for beauty
I put my hand on your shoulder
Let two fingertips climb your neck
Pass by your ears
In between centuries
Draw an orange-red scale
Write us out
The age from coal to diamonds
I had a fire, soon
Flames will bloom between you and me—shining faces
< h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="16" > Spanish lineup</h1>
Born in Peru, he is one of the most important poets in Latin America, and his poetic creation is a milestone in the poetry of the entire Spanish avant-garde. Spanish and Indian mixed, Christian and Indian culture mixed, family religious atmosphere is strong, by the metaphysical world infiltrated a lifetime.
Throughout his life, he experienced hardships and economic hardships. "There are some blows in life, very heavy... I do not know! "When I was young, I almost went down the path of the clergy, but gave up because I couldn't bear not being able to have a woman. While harboring attachment to women and experiencing love, he eventually went to a distant place. The young man left home, and finally became a permanent stranger. Her mother died, but she could not return home to see her mother off due to financial problems. In 1920, when he returned to his hometown to visit his relatives and participated in the commemoration of Santiago, he was wanted for "leading the attack on the police", hid in Tibet, or was arrested and imprisoned by the authorities.
After loving, aching, and dying, what remains is born again. In Vallejo's works, all kinds of daily real life, social and political injustices, as well as religious and secular contradictions and pains, are sincere and touchable, and the wild and primitive, gentle and beautiful language makes his works have a strong surrealist color.
Christmas Eve
The band was silent, women
Wander under the branches, shadows and shadows;
The dream of the moon, leaking from the dense leaves,
Cold, pale, like countless clouds.
There are some forgotten songs like weeping,
There were some tall lilies, cloaked in ivory clothing.
Crazy crowds, laughter,
The wild woods are filled with the sweet fragrance of silk.
How I wish you were like light, turning around and smiling at me;
When your shadow is like the manifestation of the Holy Spirit,
The festival will be sung in sacred gold.
And my verse is the sheep of your field,
Singing and whispering in their mysterious bronze,
Tell that your beloved Holy Child has arrived.
Translated by Huang Kangyi
< H1 class = "pgc-h-arrow-right" > French lineup</h1>
At the beginning of the tenth century, he was a famous French poet, a master of prose poetry, and one of the founders of avant-gardeism in the twentieth century. Born in Brittany to a Jewish family that opened a small antique shop, he went to Paris in 1894 and successively worked as a piano teacher, painter, salesman, handyman, nurseryman, and engaged in the profession of looking, counting, etc. In the avant-garde art world of Paris, he met the up-and-coming Picasso and Apollinaire.
As a teenager, his thinking tended to be mysticism, and in 1909 he rejected his father's "Voltaire" atheism and converted to Christianity, and in 1925 he converted to Catholicism, and then continued to oscillate between repentance and debauchery. Eventually, in 1936, he abandoned his ukiyo-e career and participated in the monastery's religious activities as a "self-worshiping layman". During World War II, he was thrown into the D'Arancy concentration camp near Paris by the Nazis, and died of pneumonia on March 5 before the pardon was granted. The Jew who arrived with him at the camp boarded a train to Auschwitz a day later and did not survive.
"Through the path of death, he is moving toward eternal glory." His poetic works are quite appreciated by surrealists, with both cubist and surrealist colors, human and mystical tendencies, simple and humorous style, and played an important role in the exploration of modern French poetry in the early twentieth century.
Nibbler of the tree
Isolated, imprisoned, or at work, Dumas comforted himself with the smell of a woman's dress. Three men who were identical to each other—identical round felt hats, identical diminutive figures—met in one place, amazed by each other's similarities, and guessed that they had the same thought: to steal the comfort of the isolated.
Translated by Li Jinjia
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="9" > Romanian lineup</h1>
Born into a family of rural clergymen in transylvania, Romania, he suffered from aphasia as a child and could not speak until he was four years old. Later, after suffering political disasters, he saw his childhood aphasia as a harbinger of deep meaning, and once wrote a poem to mock himself: "Luzian Braga is dumb, like a silent swan." He later went to Vienna to study philosophy and received a doctorate in philosophy. I started working during college. In 1939, he went to the University of Cluj to preside over the work of the Department of Philosophy. He skillfully blended poetry and philosophy, facilitating the marriage of philosophy and poetry, hoping to "produce a superior poem with a super-sense". His poetry exudes a strong atmosphere of mysticism, but also obviously has a hint of expressionism, full of soul consciousness, and strives to present eternity. Romanian Critics' Review: The depth and breadth of Romanian poetry in revealing the mysteries of nature and the universe is the contribution of Lucian Braga that no poet during the two world wars can match.
"The world is like a huge book to be read by Luzian Braga, like a vast field of symbols to be deciphered." His poems explore the relationship between man and nature, short life and the eternal universe, small bodies and vast souls with profound philosophies and peculiar imagery. His poems are typical of free bodies, not stuck in rhythm, but deliberately pursuing mysterious moods and the inner rhythm of the poem itself.
self-portrait
Luzian Braga was silent, like a swan.
In his homeland,
Cosmic Snow alternative word.
His soul
Always looking,
Silently, persistently searching,
All the way to the farthest frontier.
He searched for rainbow water to drink.
He looked
Can make a rainbow
Drink the water of beauty and nothingness.
Happy translation
< h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="4" > Russian lineup</h1>
Born in Kutaisi, Baghdad Province, Georgia, he is a Russian and Soviet poet, playwright, screenwriter, director, actor and artist. One of the founders of Futurism in Russian poetry and the most prominent poet of the 20th century. His masterpiece "Lenin" depicts Lenin's glorious life and the deep feelings of the masses for Lenin, and "Religious Burlesque" is the first theatrical work of high ideological and artistic standards in the Soviet Union, and his comedy satirizes the small citizens and exposes bureaucracy. In 1908, he joined the Russian Social Democratic Labour Party and became a propagandist for the party. He was active in underground activities, was arrested 3 times, and read a large number of literary works in prison, including works by Shakespeare, Byron and Tolstoy, while trying to write poetry. In 1911, he entered the School of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture, and became acquainted with a large number of futuristic poets and painters. In Odessa, Ukraine, he met and fell in love with the sixteen-year-old girl Maria Denisova, but was rejected by the other party, and later wrote a long poem "Clouds in Pants", which superficially wrote unrequited, painful love, but it was inseparable from the loneliness, rejection of politics, and even atheism shown by the poet. On April 14, 1930, the poet shot himself in Moscow, and the cause of suicide became a mystery.
"Dead silence. The universe was asleep, and on its paws lay an ear that was so large that it crawled with lice. "Russian Futurists are against conformism. Dilapidated and new, maverick is the only code to understand Mayakovsky's shocking creations.
Cloud in Pants (excerpt)
Your thoughts,
Obsessed with the soft thoughts and wild thoughts in the mind,
Like the fat servant lying on a dirty bed,
I will tease with a piece of cloth dyed red with my heart's blood;
I was mercilessly mocking, mean and bitter.
My soul has no trace of white hair,
There's not a single mother-in-law there!
The thunderbolts on a sunny day will deafen the world,
Here I come — beautiful man,
Twenty-two years old.
Gentle people!
You use the violin to interpret love.
The rough man beats a timpani drum and sets love.
But you can't turn yourself over like me,
If only you could keep your mouth airtight!
Let's learn --
The woman in the thin shirt who came out of the living room,
The well-behaved and restrained official wife in the beauty pile.
And she clicked her little mouth unhurriedly,
Like a kitchen lady flipping through cooking cheats.
Did you know --
I can go crazy for meat
-- And, like the sky, change all kinds of tricks -
I can be incredibly docile,
Not like a man, but into a cloud of pants!
I don't believe there really is a flower-filled Nice!
And I'm going to sing praises,
For the tired old man lying in the ward of the nursing home,
There are also women who are abused like proverbs.
Translated by Locke
Written by: Wintonie