“My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends – It…”
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light!”
- Edna St. Vincent Millay, from First Fig.
In the category of ‘people who should be better known’ I’d really like to nominate Dorothy Bonarjee, an Indian student at Aberystwyth University who won the poetry prize at the college’s annual Eisteddfod in 1914. She sounds like such a remarkable woman, and I’m fascinated that she continued to contribute to Welsh culture through magazines like Welsh
Outlook even after she left Wales. Read the article - if anyone deserves a biopic, she does!
Winter is out for a lot this year
the beach already is stiff
all will be one will be one this year
wings and ice will be one in the world
all will be changed in the world:
the boat will hear its steps on the ice
the war will hear its war on the ice
the woman will hear her hour on the ice
the hour of birth in the ice of death
winter is out for a lot.
Out for the houses the cities
out for the forests the clouds
the mountains the valleys fear
the heart the children peace.
Winter is out for a lot this year
the hand already is stiff
the crying of children is heard in the house
one will we be one life
I hear my house slip with the world
and scream all that has been screamed
the heart rams its boat into ice
shells rustling in the hull
winter is out for as much.
If I freeze fast in the ice
if you freeze fast my child
my great forest next summer
my great fear as I come
if you freeze fast my life:
then I am a vulture of wings and ice
tearing my liver, my living life
awake in eternity.
This winter is in for a lot.
- Inger Christensen, translated by Susanna Nied.
Winter is out for a lot this year
the beach already is stiff
all will be one will be one this year
wings and ice will be one in the world
all will be changed in the world:
the boat will hear its steps on the ice
the war will hear its war on the ice
the woman will hear her hour on the ice
the hour of birth in the ice of death
winter is out for a lot.
Out for the houses the cities
out for the forests the clouds
the mountains the valleys fear
the heart the children peace.
Winter is out for a lot this year
the hand already is stiff
the crying of children is heard in the house
one will we be one life
I hear my house slip with the world
and scream all that has been screamed
the heart rams its boat into ice
shells rustling in the hull
winter is out for as much.
If I freeze fast in the ice
if you freeze fast my child
my great forest next summer
my great fear as I come
if you freeze fast my life:
then I am a vulture of wings and ice
tearing my liver, my living life
awake in eternity.
This winter is in for a lot.
- Inger Christensen, translated by Susanna Nied.