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We picked up Kārlis Skalbe's
(1879-1945) Kopoti Raksti, or "Collected Works", off our upstairs
bookshelf — a small paperback Peters' father obtained during the D.P.
era. It contains a fairly lengthy biography, though not totally complete (it
stops around 1937), and collections of poems authored during various times in
his life. It's "Volume I" of a set of unknown size; the set was published by
Auseklis in Stuttgart, in 1947, authorized by the UNRRA (United Nations Relief
and Rehabilitation Administration).
Skalbe was perhaps the best of the
Latvian story-tellers; that gift comes through in the visions and sensations he
evokes in his poetry. Auseklis, in his forward (translated here), writes:
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"A forward to
this publication in exile.
Printing Skalbe's collected works here, in exile, our
purpose is to imbue our people traveling unknown roads with something valuable
to strengthen our spirit. This sort of "walking stick" we can count on to
support us is, without a doubt, our literature; and in this case, I have
selected it from it the works of our lyric cornerstone - those of Skalbe. I
have taken J. Roze's publication as source. I anticipate closing Skalbe's
biography and collecting his final works for a future last volume.
In view of the near impossibility of obtaining paper,
and also, so that our narrow baggage not take up much room, the volumes have
been prepared in a compact format set in small type.
Honored readers, please don't judge me harshly in case
of any technical shortcomings; my main goal was that Skalbe's works spread out
among our people: they would be available to all those who esteem him, and we
would not have to worry about losing parts of it dragging it about through our
course in exile and as we ourselves disperse further.
the
Publisher." |
As historians point out, language is
culture. Even as Latvians dispersed in diaspora, the power of words would
bind them together and preserve them.
Life in the D.P. camps was what Latvians
made it: creative, vital, treasuring their culture and identity. It seemed
perfectly natural that we happened to open the book right to this poem. It's
from one of Skalbe's poetry collections entitled "Apple blossom time." We can
never hope to evoke the same spirit as Skalbe does in Latvian. The best we can
do is to hope to translate it well enough for you to get some sense:
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Ziedoņa
idille
Man teciņa — linu
audeklis,
Uz pļavas balināt klāts.
Es eju par viņu
sapņodams,
Un tu pie rokas man nāc.
Spīd
zālē bezdelīgactiņas
Un pieneņu ziedu zelts,
Un
debess pār zemi nolaižas
Kā zilgans zīda
telts.
Ap baltiem namiem ābeles zied,
Plaukst vārpas
tīruma,
Un smiedamies mūsos noskatas
Mazi bērni
ceļmalā,
Zalē
iebriduši,
Pirkstiņus
mutē ielikuši. |
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A Spring idyll
My trail — a bolt of linen,
Lain
out over the meadow to bleach in the sun.
I stroll upon it, dreaming,
And
you come and take me by my hand.
The primrose glistens in the
grass
And the dandelions' blossoms gold,
And the heavens settle down upon
the land
Like a silken azure tent.
About the white houses, apple
trees bloom,
The long grasses flower in the clearing,
And giggling as
they look upon us
Toddlers by the
roadside,
Waded into the
grass,
Little fingers in their
mouths. |
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Just as we were finishing up this page, we found a
wonderful anthology of Latvian poetry: A Century of Latvian
Poetry, selected and translated by W.K. Matthews,
published by John Calder in London, in 1957. Matthews is both a scholar and a
poet; his introduction thoroughly recaps the development of modern (starting in
the mid-19th century) Latvian poetry.
Our copy had a page inserted, in Latvian, on the
letterhead of the Latvian Legation, 87, Eaton Place, London S.W.1. —
"With greetings from ambassador Karlis Zarins." Though the book is
well-travelled, showing its age, there's no other clue as to its journey to a
Portland, Oregon bookstore before it reached us.
One of the poems in our Kopoti Raksti appears
in Matthews' anthology; here is a true poet's translation, not as literal as
our attempt above, but closer to Skalbe's spirit.
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Maldi
Zili meži, zaļi meži,
Zelta caune ozolā! . . .
Zelta
caune, zelta saule
Liela meža
dziļumos,
Kā es tevis
meklēt gāju
Kā es tevis
ilgojos!
Nokaltuši zaļie zari,
Skujas
manas kājas bada.
Purvā smejas maldu gari,
Visas tekas
tumsā vada . . .
Zili
meži, zaļi meži,
Zelta
caune ozolā! . . . |
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LOST ILLUSIONS
Azure forests, virid forests,
Gold-furred marten in the oak!
Gold-furred marten, golden sunbeam
In the forest's giant night
How I've
wandered, seeking for you,
Crying for
your magic light!
But the virid boughs are frozen;
Underfoot the fir-cone crackles;
Marsh-lights mark the path I've chosen;
darkness binds my feet with shackles.
Azure forests, virid forests,
Gold-furred marten in the oak! |
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This web page has the necessary headers
to tell your browser to display Latvian fonts automatically. If you have
trouble, manually choose the "Baltic" or "ISO/Windows 1257" character sets in
your browser defaults. |
Digital CollectionPersonal PerspectivesExile ExperienceMusic
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