Podcast #7: Jennifer Hayashida

by: Montana Ray

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In this episode Montana Ray interviews Jennifer Hayashida, poet-translator and Director of Asian American Studies at Hunter College. Hayashida, who translates from Swedish, discusses her relationship to the Swedish language and culture, specifically her fascination with “global perceptions and misperceptions of Sweden, elided histories of colonialism, the prehistory of neoliberalism, and … the dismantling of the social welfare system.” (See: No More Strike Anywhere) She describes her evolution as a translator from her earliest translation projects (A Different Practice by Fredrik Nyberg and Inner China by Eva Sjödin) and explores how a consideration of class, race, and gender can’t be set aside in the practice of translation. She also reads from her forthcoming translations of two young Swedish writers Athena Farrokhzad & Karl Larsson and explains some ways in which their work intersects as cultural critics who broaden understandings (domestic and international) of Swedish literature and Swedishness, and describes Sweden’s evolving debate around identity politics, including the contributions of writers and translators.

With poems and music by: First Aid Kit, Fredrik Nyberg, Eva Sjödin, Athena Farrokhzad, Karl Larsson, & Säkert!

I was holding the light
on either side of me

A selection of Pierre Peuchmaurd poems translated by E.C. Belli—four poems from The Nothing Bird and “Bull,” a Circumference exclusive.

Taureau

by Pierre Peuchmaurd

Le vent est long
le vent court
le vent hurle
Le vent hurle, pas le taureau
le monde tourne, pas le taureau
il pleut, pas le taureau
la pluie est rouge, pas le taureau
tu mets ton chapeau, pas le taureau
tu enfiles tes gants, pas le taureau
la pluie rouge, l’herbe grise
les mains qui glissent sur l’arc-en-ciel
les freux les fraises les demoiselles,
pas le taureau
l’escarcelle, pas le taureau
le taureau est un sac
le héron vole, pas le taureau
le jour du mois, pas du taureau
la bave des filles, pas du taureau
je est un autre, pas un taureau
un souffle, pas un taureau
la neige aux doigts, pas un taureau
je
mets la littérature dans une corne,
pas le taureau
dans l’ombre, pas le taureau
le taureau est noir, il est blanc
le taureau est un frac
le soir tombe, pas le taureau
l’amour tangue, pas le taureau
tu touches ta peau, pas le taureau
tu noies tes yeux
tu fouilles ton sexe, pas le taureau
le vent hurle, pas le taureau
le vent flambe
le taureau est un rire un ange un tréteau d’or
l’amour tangue, pas le taureau
l’amour remonte les allées de sa mort,
pas le taureau
l’amour meurt, pas le taureau
il surgit du taureau
l’amour meugle, pas le taureau
le taureau est un chant d’oiseau
le héron vole la main passe,
pas le taureau
qui chante ailes arrachées
qui chante le ventre ouvert
le taureau pèse cent ans de corde,
pas la corde
la corde pèse le pendu, pas le taureau
les ailes, pas le taureau
arrachées, le taureau
le taureau est une jambe
le taureau est l’aubier sous l’écorce du taureau
tu est toi, pas le taureau
tu es là, pas le taureau
les chiens dansent, pas le taureau
les nains dansent sur les chiens, pas le taureau
j’ouvre la fenêtre, pas le taureau
le vent est long le vent court
la nuit aboie au ciel, pas le taureau
le taureau est le jour planté au cœur du jour

Bull

by Pierre Peuchmaurd

The wind is long

the wind runs

the wind screams

The wind screams, not the bull

the world turns, not the bull

the rain falls, not the bull

the rain is red, not the bull

you put on your hat, not the bull

you slide on your gloves, not the bull

red rain, grey grass

those hands slipping along the rainbow

those rooks those strawberries those damsels,

not the bull

the leather pouch, not the bull

the bull is a bag

the heron flies, not the bull

your day of the month, not the bull’s

the drool of girls, not the bull’s

I am another, not a bull

a breath, not a bull

that snow along our fingers, not a bull

I

pour writings into a horn

not the bull

in the shade, not the bull

the bull is black, he is white

the bull is a tailcoat

evening falls, not the bull

love reels, not the bull

you stroke your skin, not the bull

you drown your eyes

you burrow in your cunt, not the bull

the wind screams, not the bull

the wind’s ablaze

the bull is a chuckle an angel a gold trestle

love reels, not the bull

love sails up death’s alleyways,

not the bull

love dies, not the bull

it springs from the bull

love moos, not the bull

the bull is a birdsong

the heron flies the hand passes,

not the bull

that sings wings ripped

that sings with intestines showing

the bull weighs a hundred years of rope

not the rope,

the rope weighs the hanging, not the bull

the wings, not the bull

ripped, the bull

the bull is a leg

the bull is sapwood under the bark of the bull

you are you, not the bull

you are here, not the bull

the dogs are dancing, not the bull

the dwarves are dancing on the dogs, not the bull

I crack the window, not the bull

the wind is long the wind runs

the night barks at the sky, not the bull

the bull is the day planted into the heart of the day

 

translated from French by E.C. Belli
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