19.1.2020
Über­set­zung der Gedichte von Safiye Can ins amerikanis­che Englisch durch Prof. Mar­ilya Vete­to Reese
Pub­lika­tion bei: No Man’s Land — New Ger­man Lit­er­a­ture in Ger­man Translation

New German Literature in English Translation

-Quite possibly well and truly
-Integration
-Away from the World
-That Child Never Amounted to Much

By Safiye Can

Trans­la­tion Mar­ilya Vete­to Reese

Quite pos­si­bly well and truly

Maybe home is a Kurt Cobain line
an Atti­la Ilhan verse
a thou­sand year old yearn­ing, the hair gone grey
the scent of rain atop the pasture
a view from the win­dow, black and white
foliage on a rut­ted path one autumn day
or Uncle Cemil with his woolen cap, when he laughs.

Maybe home is the shoot­ing star
over Llorett de Mar
that one mil­lisec­ond or the Repub­lic of Adygeja
is the munic­i­pal library of Offenbach
that hous­es Ernst Buch­holz inside
or the key to the door of a house, handed
to some­one in exile

Maybe home is some­thing dead-serious
with a moustache
or a bare­foot-run bit of bridge over water
the fragili­ty of the pop­py blossom
of our childhood
a cal­lithrix jac­chus, a marmoset
or a Hello-Kitty-balloon
hid­ing away in cot­ton candy

Maybe home is a nomad in Tuareg garb
rac­ing here and there
or a Mick­ey Mouse shirt and laced-up shoes
at the Baltic
and hair twist­ed into a braid
is a shat­tered glass you step on
that unex­pect­ed pang in the vicin­i­ty of your chest

Maybe home is falling into your own bed
after nights of par­ty­ing, jeans and sneak­ers still on
and stop­ping short and stop­ping short.
Is a cou­ple danc­ing to the beat of a tan­go for­get­ting themselves
the sight of two white-brown horses
aome­times Ter­mi­nal B of the Frank­furt Airport
or just sim­ply Fouzia’s voice.

Maybe home is the root of eightor a coiled trunk-like thing topped with cinnamon
is a chameleon adapt­ing itself.
Maybe though it’s Frau Grün
on the ground floor, who rants about everything
maybe.

Inte­gra­tion

Away from the World

If only I could hide myself away
from the world
behind your back
only some­times peeking
in order to see, just to see
a little
whether way off there flow­ers bloom too
anymore.

If I only could smile at a person
and thus take away all his woes
and then again could pro­tect the animal
from the person
the most frag­ile insect, the most mas­sive elephant.

If only I could hide myself away
from the world
with a hand­stand, just like that
clos­ing my eyes and knowing
for a moment, just knowing:
out there is no war, nowhere
no per­son kills anoth­er person
no per­son kills an animal
absolute­ly noth­ing is being killed
not autho­rized not condoned
and there is no avarice.
And could laugh aloud
since every­thing else is absurd
would be so incred­i­bly ab-solute-ly ab-surd

If only I could hide myself away
from the world
in a cloud perhaps
just peek out sometimes
to look down, just to look
a little
if down there chil­dren built sand­cas­tles too
if bees flew, seals swam
anymore.

If only I could hide myself away
from the world
behind your back
nev­er­more rup­tured by reality
the real­i­ty would rupture
from all of the love of ours.

That Child Nev­er Amount­ed to Much

But do not tell
my uncle please
that I became a poet
he’ll only start to cry again.

From:  Safiye Can, Kinder der ver­lore­nen Gesellschaft (Chil­dren of a Lost Soci­ety), Wall­stein Ver­lag, Göt­tin­gen, 2017.Return To Top