Translation and Art During Genocide

They are not so separate

1. Translating the Heart

Temye Tesfu

We had another scintillating Zoom poetry workshop the other night. We were joined by German poet ተመስገን ተስፉ (Temye Tesfu) who shared with us their poetry in German and English and some of the choices they make that guide their translations. They said that they don’t believe in synonyms in general and so the act of translation, as we know, is never going to do what the original poem does, regardless of the translator. But for Temye, the act of translating is still fun, and they said that they had once written a poem in English in collaboration with some Nigerian poets, then translated that poem into German (their first language) and now that translated poem is their favorite to perform at readings.

Here are the two poems Temye shared with us and the poems’ English counterparts below each.

we have aufklärung at home

traue nicht denen die dir die freiheit des wortes erläutern
aber schweigen von seiner gewalt
denen die eifrig die gleichheit des menschen beteuern
sind manche menschen gleich

ach. was lieben sie den frieden (solange frieden heißt
dass man sie in frieden lässt)
die anstoß nehmen an deinem tonfall sind dieselben
die der prügelnde tonfa nicht juckt

„ACAB“ ist ne schlimme Abkürzung, die sie wütend macht
mit meinungen ausgewogen wie die ernährung
wissen sie was gut und was recht, selbstverständlich
wissen sie was schlecht und was rechts ist

ihre erscheinung ist gepflegt wie ihre umgangsformen
ihre haut ist so rein wie ihr gewissen
ihre heiligenscheine sind die schlaufen mit denen
man uns aufhängen wird an den straßenlaternen

ein unverdrutzter sozialdemokrat wird stehnbleiben
an jedem paar schuhe verkniffenen blicks
am lichtmast emporschaun und nachfragen, höflich
ob die lampe geputzt sei

we have age of enlightenment at home

do not trust those who would preach of freedom of speech
yet remain silent as to its violence
those who refuse to see differences within the human race
tend to be indifferent to some races

oh my. how fond they are of peace (provided it means
that you’ll leave them in peace)
those who take offense at and police your tone don’t
give one fuck about police batons

"ACAB’s a nasty acronym,” and it makes them quite mad
their judgment’s well-rounded and so is their diet
see they know what is good and what’s right, evidently
they know what is bad and what’s right-wing

their appearance just as embellished as their manners
their skin is as clear as their conscience
their halos are nooses at the ready for our necks come
the day when we hang from the street lamps

that day, an unbaffable democrat shall take pause
at every pair of shoes eyes pinched
look up the light pole and inquire, most politely
if the lamps’ve been properly cleaned

Das Verweilen unter schwebender Last ist verboten

sag mal Amygdala o du hirngebrannte mandel
meine kernkomplexe gefahrenabwehr sag es
sag mir sag wie ich dich besänftigen soll in
deinem eifer deiner eifersucht du schlafloseste gewähre
mir doch wenigstens – ja was eigentlich

Dortmund-Dorstfeld im dorsalen system
anzeigen anzeigen angezeigte anzeigen
abgelegte zeugnisse auferlegte selfcare
verstandesamtliche misstrauungen
geschlossen in bescholtenem
licht wenn du schielst siehst du
wie stummgeschaltete gespenster
die gegenwärtige handlung stalken.
bonitätsauskunft

und begehung der tugendsünden im zuge
der ermittlungen in sachen herzschlägerei:
seihe die müh und das wagnis.
haue den beichtstuhl zu kleinholz.
übergebe die sträflich verhätschelten gebete dem gang der gezeiten.
verpfänd die schatulle mit doppeltem boden das gestrandete glück:

es hat keine lobby es hat kein ego
und keine NGO wo ein wille
ist ist er im weg gewesen oder
gab ihn frei für scheunentorheiten

Loitering under suspended cargo is prohibited

tell me Amygdala oh you my brain-fried almond
my cerebral cortexed emergency response tell it
tell em tell me how to soothe you in your
zeal in your jealousy you most slumberless grant
me at least – well what actually?

Dortmund-Dorstfeld in my dorsal system
ads ads and ads in addition to ads
beared witnesses imposed selfcare
suspect specters of uncivil ceremonies
contracted in blemished
light squint and you’ll see
muted wraiths stalking
the current story arc.
credit check

and inspection of the sins of your truth as part of
the investigation regarding this heart beatdown:
strain the trouble and gamble.
chop down the confessional.
hand the criminally pampered prayers over to the turn of the tides.
pawn off the small double bottom casket see this beached fortune:

it has no lobby it has no ego nor
an NGO where there was
a will it was in the way or
cleared it for barn doored follies

One of the workshop participants pointed out how they had only heard German speech yelled angrily and it was a different experience hearing it said in a calm and musical tone. Temye said that was funny because they feel angry all the time.

2. Silencing the Heart

The reason I was able to be joined by Temye is because they declined to read at an event at the Poetry Foundation that night, despite being previously paid to do so. This is in response to POETRY Magazine deciding to indefinitely shelve a review of Sam Sax’s Pig, because the review and its subject engage with anti-Zionist ideas (from the perspective of two Jewish authors (see here). The stated reason is that the organization does not want to be seen as taking sides in the Israeli destruction of Gaza. This reads as disingenuous to the more than 2000 writers who have signed a letter boycotting the Poetry Foundation as the act of shelving this review certainly looks like a side has been picked. And does that mean when they publish any poem with a viewpoint then they have picked that side?

I am a part of another community who has asked that we do not discuss the destruction Gaza because they do not have the bandwidth to moderate the conversation. I don’t know if that is part of PoFo’s reasoning, but certainly it feels like any discussion that even hints at criticizing the actions and rhetoric of the Israeli government is met with a barrage of gas-lighting, bad faith arguments, condescension, and at least one person you went to high school with going off the rails at you. It IS exhausting, and that feels strategic.

Or consider this resignation letter from The New York Times from their magazine’s poetry editor, Anne Boyer:

my resignation

I saw one comment on Threads call this letter “naïveté.” I won’t get into it with this stranger, here or on their post, but I will say that Boyer’s line “Because our status quo is self-expression, sometimes the most effective mode of protest for artists is to refuse” strikes me as deeply felt and considered and sage - even if you disagree with her.

Or consider this oft-quoted passage from Adrienne Rich’s letter declining the 1997 National Medal of Arts from the US government:

There is no simple formula for the relationship of art to justice. But I do know that art — in my own case the art of poetry — means nothing if it simply decorates the dinner table of power which holds it hostage.

3. Synthesizing the Heart

We concluded the workshop reading Palestinian-American poet Priscilla Wathington’s “Doll Swing,” first published in Adi Magazine.

Doll Swing 

Before I was myself,
I was her.

All the animals she stopped seeing. The angels
who came down to dress her

in blackberry crowns
and tatreez.

Beloved doll on a garden swing
when flames took a city

our black curls melted
onto fracturing cheeks.

One honey eye got stuck open
watching the burned enter the street. They are still entering

We then wrote poems about periods of time in our lives where our identities were permanently altered afterwards. Whether we acknowledge it or not, this is one of those times. Besides removing art from the dinner table of power that holds it hostage, demanding ceasefire from our government officials is another way to mitigate how small our hearts will shrink from all this.