XXXIII Summer Concert 30.6. at 18:00: texts of the Kläätasku songs omitted from the manuscript programme and Schoenberg’s String Quartet No 2, parts Litanei and Entrückung, with texts by Stefan George (suom. Jan Granberg).
Heinz-Juhani Hofmann: Kylätasku songs (texts by Jussi Kylätasku)
1.
Put me in a porous soil
that I may burn with a small flame steadily to the end, I shall crack, crack, crack in a regular manner into my parts
and feed more than ever with my wages
when the earth is only porous, its breath warm and dry.
(Good News, p. 58)
2.
The subject of the poem is a plastic ear through which light shines steadily.
It’s hard to admit that you’re interested in what you don’t have;
From a certain angle, the junction of the neck and shoulder.
In a way, you become aware when love dies.
(Private entrepreneurs, p.13)
3.
I’m sitting in a smoky room; it’s raining. At least not inside.
I won’t be sad.
Dear friend, what are you waiting for: the same old crap?
A trip to the centre of the country for a little money, what are you waiting for
The gang is on the move, the world is changing, but society is being built to last. The world is maturing beautifully to a serene end, to a fitting starry sky, the cosmonaut aware of his minute when the capsule goes into a spiral;
In his shares of the working and unemployed, the poet alienates himself from Oulu in a semblance of harmony.
(Private entrepreneurs, p.11)
4. SONG
October is birdless, songless, the forest slows down in front of your eyes.
A drowned youngster can be heard through the snowless ice.
It looked so damn tall.
It’s at least ten feet tall. A blue-grey striped suit. One shoe loose, red ankle sock, V-patent collar, tie somewhat wrapped.
Counts heartbeats on a wristwatch.
(Private entrepreneurs, p.19)
Litany
Deep is the grief that doth shake me, I will enter again, O Lord, into thy house.
The journey has been long, the limbs are dull, the shrines are empty, the agony is full.
Thirsty tongue dying to cry. Hard was the quarrel, stiff is my arm.
Give rest to faltering steps, hungry gaume crumble your bread!
Weak is my breath calling to the dream, hollow are the hands, feverish the mouth.
Lend your coolness, put out the fires. Extinguish the hope, send the light!
The glowing embers in the heart are still open, A cry still awakes in the depths.
Kill the longing, close the wound! Take away my love, give me your happiness!
Rapture
I feel air from another planet.
I am pale through the darkness the faces that turned to me friendly a moment ago.
And trees and paths that I loved pale That I hardly know them any more And thou light beloved shadow-caller of my torments–
Are now extinguished in deep glow To suggest with a pious shudder the staggering disputing getobes.
I loose myself in tones, circling, weaving, surrendering to the great breath without wishing, to fathomless thanks and unnamed praise.
I am overtaken by an impetuous wind
In the frenzy of consecration where fervent cries plead In dust thrown praying women:
Then I see how fragrant mists hatch
In a sun-filled clear free
That only embraces on farthest mountains hatch.
The floor is white and soft as whey. I’m climbing over gorges immense.
I feel like I’m over the last cloud
In a sea of crystalline brilliance I swim– I am a spark only of the holy fire
I am a roar only of the holy voice.
Litania
Deep is the sorrow that darkens me, And again, Lord, I enter your house.
It’s been a long journey, the members are tired,
The trunks are empty now, it’s just a pain in the ass.
A dry tongue craves a splash of vodka.
It was a tough struggle, now my arm is numb.
Give peace to the weary steps, To the hungry mouth break a piece of your bread!
Weak breathing, crying out in sleep, Empty palms, feverish mouth.
Lend your cool, extinguish the flames, Redeem hope, give a ray of light!
Glowing widows, fluttering in the chest, Inside the deepest still a cry waits.
Kill the longing, stop the bleeding wounds! Take from me love instead of your happiness!
Exit
I can feel the airflow from other planets. Fading in the darkness are faces
that kindly turned to me.
And the trees and roads I love will fade so that I hardly know them and the bright beloved shadow-interpreter of my pains–
You’ve gone all out in a deep-blue glow to dampen the post-rapturous exclamation of elation to a pious shudder.
I break free to the sounds, spinning, spinning, endless praise and anonymous praise, a huge breath of hopeless surrender.
A furious breeze blows over me
in a holy din where the cries of worshippers thrown into the dust rush:
Then I see how the humid mist rises in a light-filled, bright freedom that reaches to the farthest mountain peaks.
The ground beneath quivers as soft and white as milk. I rise above the distant gorges.
I feel how on the last clouds
I swim in a sea of Christian glory–I am but a tiny flame of holy fire, just a breath of holy sound.
J.L.Runeberg:Andranatten http://www.svensklyrik.se/poeter/johan-ludvig-runeberg/andra-natten-2
