I wonder if this has happened to anyone else: Yesterday, I was, just for the
hell of it, googling the title of my new book of poetry, The Silence Of Men,
and I discovered a site on which someone--I don't know who--had translated
the title poem of the book into a language I do not recognize and posted it
to a website that seems to be an international collection of poetry in
translation. This person did not take the poem from the book itself, but
rather, complete with the author's photo I had used, from an online literary
journal that had published it a couple of years ago. No one ever contacted
me about this and, as far as I know, no one ever contacted the editor of the
literary magazine either. On the one hand, I am quite flattered; on the
other, it's a little disturbing to me that someone would publish the
translation without even contacting me. I am curious what other people's
reactions are. Also, I am hoping someone can tell me what the language of
the translation is and, if it’s not too much trouble, where on the website I
can find the email of the person who translated it so that I can contact him
or her. I am, of course, also curious to know if the translation is any
good.
Here's the translation, which you can find at
http://www.hetprieeltje.net/oogvanderoos/gednewman.html:
DE STILTE VAN MANNEN
Een man waarvan ik nooit eerder had gedroomd wandelt
mijn appartement binnen en neemt plaats in de groene
fauteuil waarin ik altijd zit om te schrijven. Hij houdt
in zijn linker hand een grote stijve penis vast
die hij stilletjes neerzet op de vloer.
De fallus begint te walsen op muziek
die ik niet kan horen. Met zijn scrotum,
testikels en benen afgesneden tot aan de knieën.
wil ik weten waarom dit misvormd
manswezen naar mij werd gebracht. Ik kijk op
maar mijn gast is verdwenen. Zijn orgaan, schokkend
met korte spasmen zoals een hoestende oude man,
spreidt zich uit in een plas van dun bloed.
De stilte tussen ons is de stilte van mannen.
(The silence of men)
Bron: The Pedestal Magazine
(geplaatst op 25-04-2005)
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Here's the original:
The Silence Of Men
A man I’ve never dreamed before walks
into my apartment and sits in the green
chair where I do my writing. He carries
in his left hand a large erect penis
which he places silently on the floor.
The phallus begins to waltz to music
I cannot hear, its scrotum a skirt;
its testicles, legs cut off at the knees.
I want to know why this disfigured
manhood has been brought to me. I look up,
but my guest is gone. His organ, deflating
in short spasms like an old man coughing,
spreads itself in a pool of shallow blood.
The silence between us is the silence of men.
Thanks--
Rich Newman
www.richardjnewman.com <http://www.richardjnewman.com/>
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