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Ist Dir aufgefallen
(Could You See)
Ist Dir
aufgefallen,
Wie hell die gestrige Nacht war?
Man konnte den Mond nicht sehen,
Doch der Himmel leuchtete in einer Farbe,
Wie sie unwirklicher,
Wie sie schoener nicht sein koennte.
Riesege Schneeflocken -
Weich und kuehl, verlockend...
Schneebedeckte Strassen.
Alles schien so blieblich.
Menschenleere,
Trotzdem alles voller Leben.
Der perfekte Ort,
Der perfekte Zeitpunkt,
Um sich gehen zu lassen,
Die Zeit zu vergessen,
In den Strassen,
Die sich von der Umgebung nicht unterscheiden -
Die Baeume,
Die Haeuser,
Die Wege sind eins,
Sind Geborgenheit,
Sind Leben,
Sind Traum.
Waere doch nett gewesen,
Wir beiden im Schnee,
In dieser Unwirklichen Nacht.
Could you see
The brightness of yesterday's night?
Altough the moon was invisible,
Heaven gleamed in a colour -
Unreal,
Beautiful as can be.
Gigantic snowflakes -
Soft and cold, tempting...
Streets, covered with snow.
A charming appearance.
Deserted,
But full of life.
The perfect place,
The perfect time,
To free your mind,
To forget the time,
In streets,
That can't be told from their surrounding -
Trees,
Houses,
Paths are one,
Are safty,
Are life,
Are a dream.
Wouldn't it have been nice,
The two of us,
On a night like that.
—Daniela Grisch
Visiting student
Daniela Grisch is returning to her
home country this month to finish her last year of law
school at the University of Zurich, Switzerland. She
speaks German, French, Spanish, and
English.
photo by Josh
Arnold
Poetry
Readings: These days it's
(still) a bit out of style to suddenly start
break-dancing in public places. Similarly it is out of
style to spend an evening anywhere other than at a bar
drinking and whiling the time away. It would be silly for
me to persuade you, since your social life is quite
rightly your own. So then, why not consider it a primal
duty? Take your friends to a reading. Mark your calendar
today.
Cafe Lena, 2239 SE Hawthorne
Blvd.,(503) 238-7087 • Every Tuesday at a cozy space
in southeast Portland with food, drinks, and a smoke-free
environment. Arrive at 8:30 p.m. to sign up, 9:00 p.m. to
hear poetry. Next event: 5/4/99
In Other Words Bookstore, 3734
SE Hawthorne Blvd., (503) 232-6003 • Last Friday of
every month; arrive at 8:30 p.m. to sign up, 9:00 p.m. to
hear poetry. These are WOMEN-only readings! Guys are
welcome to cheer along in the audience. Next event:
5/28/99
Berbati's Pan, 231 SW Ankeny,
(503) 248-4579 • Very dark and smoky. Last Wednesday
of every month. Poets read from a stage. Arrive at 7:30
p.m. to sign up, 8:30 p.m. to hear poetry. Next event:
5/26/99
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In lamentation of our own bumbling collective fates, men
at times sparkle a mention of "the fairer
sex"—Women. Like God, or Spring, the class of
Other Sublime may be rightfully capitalized: Women. (Out
of respect for their resolutely humble nature, though, a
more modest capitalization shall be employed
henceforth.)
By "fair," men intimate the obvious (beauty) as well
as hint at the more subtle (reasonable-mindedness). Both
of these qualities are ceaslessly desired and deliciously
achieved in a well-crafted poem. And so, this month the
poetry column is dedicated to women and their poetry.
Among those who may have read poetry as part of a
compulsory (read: boring) high school or college creative
writing class, you may recall a series of Dead White Men
(DWM) on the reading list. Byron, Keats, Shelley,
Emerson, Witman et al. Regrettably, many (living) white
men, in their dogged allegiance to these "masters"
advance the preposterous notion that "good" poetry is
sex/color/nationality-blind. That is, they reject the
call to find women masters from that time to stand among
the DWM. But it seems plainly obvious that women cannot
help but contribute a vision that borders on the
other-worldly when placed alongside poems written by men.
Let's face it: we live in different worlds!
Not to say that women's poems are better or worse as a
class, instead simply that they breathe life into the
literary landscape, adding depth, color, and texture
perhaps only sensed by the feminine experience.
Pregnancy, childbirth, nursing a baby, being a mother, a
wife, a sister . . .these are only among the most obvious
glimples into life unique to a woman. On a darker note,
to this day she faces between outright and insidious
subjugation at the hand of the "brutish sex." Even in our
modern times, virtually all cultures on the planet make
use of de jure or de facto discrimination against women.
All this is not said to explain away, justify, or
advocate. Only that the sheer contrast in day-to-day
breathing consciousness between men and women is vast,
indeed.
Poems on offer this month include "Could You See" by
Daniela Grisch. Origionally written in German, the author
provides a lyrical translation which provides the reader
a glimpse into a delightful wintery scene, touched by
nostalgia. Then Alix Gnoske's "I Stand Alone," a
lament on what has become of a once lively plain, and "A
Possible Never," where the reader is guided by the hand
through our vapid modern consumer culture. Finally, the
winner of February's Haiku
Competition (though a man) wrote a poem about his
wife, and it was submitted by his granddaughter.
Although National Poetry Month (April) has just
passed, now is a timely occasion to sing the praises of
poetry. The maternal, then suddenly stark description
above perhaps betrays a selfish motive of mine as to
poetry by women: advancement of understanding between us
all. Specifically, in the act of putting pen to paper, we
may each pour out, in free-form, all that is joyful as
well as that which crushes. Then our crystalized emotion
may be readily shared. For in a world filled with
chatter, a poem is a firm declaration. Poetry commands
silent and reflective meditation.
May the next century overflow with a new set of
"masters," the Just Dead Poets (JDP), with women
well-represented in the ranks, and poetic sustenance
assured for all of us.
Your
Poem Here!
Submit your
poetry.
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