For Valentine’s Day I decided to post a few poems, from my last book, that I’ve translated to English. The translation is not finished and might be flawed. If you’d like to use them; feel free as long as you mention that I’m the author.
More visual poetry
For all those years
Quelque des mes poems en francaise
Tu t’es réveillé tandis que je rêvais
tu as vu un homme allongé à tes côtés
tu t’es retourné pour pouvoir oublier
que tu m’avais vu
Dans les livres les hommes étaient désirés par les femmes
pourtant ce sentiment de quelque chose d’interdit et de différent
plus grand que ce bouton où je pouvais presser mon doigt
et me masturber jusqu’à ce que
Quand je viens dans ton lit
je suis un homme étranger
je suis un autre
cet un sexe
tu te retournes
J’ai des escargots dans les mains
corps doux avec ovaries et sperme
dans une coquille
comme j’ai deux sexes dans mon crâne
un au passé
un au futur
Je me suis
fait un nom
Mon corps est
Ces poems est de ma livre, «Framandkar»(L’etrangér), en Norvége. Merci à Isabelle pour la translation. C’etait longtemps j’ecrit francaise. Je comprend seulment un peut.
Almost ready for Transfabulous!
I’m very excited! This weekend will be my first trip to London. I’m invited to keep a workshop (actually a speak and reading poetry) at this fabulous festival for transart. The title of my workshop is «My body is my logo», a quotation from Framandkar.
I’ve worked on translating a lot of my poems the past few days and realize that I should have done it a long time ago. As you may have discovered; I don’t write english flawlessly… I’m doing my best. Hopefully someone will see the need to make better translations and publish some of it in english. And actually, I’m doing better at the translations than I thought I’d do originally.
Not otherwise specified
I’m officially disordered
not otherwise specified
a speciment for studying
a specie not otherwise specified
It’s a man’s world
that I’m not part of
a woman’s world
where I reached the point of no return
a long time ago
not long enough
My first poem originally written in english since I left school. If it qualifies as a poem. Maybe it’s a text not otherwise specified?
I found this over at Ryan’s blog and liked it so much that I’ll add it here too. Most of all for myself to see when my existence is being questioned.
If ever a real man existed
He was trans
You know why we rock YOUR world?
Because we’ve seen the best and worst of both
We are fighters.
Not just because we were made this way
But because we chose to carry on
We don’t need your pity
We don’t need your accusations
Or your psychological analysis
We know who we are
And we’re probably a lot more stable than you will ever be
If you had the power to stand
When chains were dragging you down
The power to survive alone
When no one was around
If you had found compassion
In no one other than yourself
You have become a real man
Without the pity of someone else
just gimme some freakin T.
Thanks to my friend Mette, I’ve been able to record some of my poems in Norwegian. She gave me a microphone for my computer, so I could install skype and talk to her for free. One of the first things I used it for, was to record some of my poems. They are now uploaded to my website http://www.tarald.net. Go directly to http://www.tarald.net/framandkar/opplesning.html Each number is a link to a reading of one poem. The numbers signify where you’ll fint the poem in my book. I guess they don’t make a lot of sense if you don’t understand Norwegian, but at least they document my voice before starting testosterone.
It’s strange how one percieve one’s own voice. I’ve always been surprised when I’ve heard recordings. It’s nothing like how it sounds in my head. OK, I know that is pretty normal. But to me, it resembles how I see my image in the mirror. I’ve always thought I looked more like a boy than a girl, and for a while I tried to cover it up with makup. Now, after realizing that I am a boy, I’ve discovered how much my self-image differs from the image others see. It’s just so strange.
As you may have noticed, english is not my mother’s tongue. And although my mother urged me to have some more english-classes at school, I didn’t like it and quit as soon as I could. So please leave a comment when you see something not right!
And if anyone would help me translate more poems, I’d be very happy. I can do the word for word translation (with the help of a dictonary, I know I have one, somewhere…). What I need is someone with a sense of proper english language, and maybe some poetic strings, to make the poems good literature in english as well. And hopefully my book will some day be ready to be published in english.
I’ve got snails in my hands
soft bodies with eggs and sperm
in one shell
like I have two genders in my skull
one for the past
one for the future
is hiding in my closets
between my breasts
From my cavity
he’ll grow big and firm
filled with my blood
Yours are the hot nights
Mine are the dry days
This is how I was born:
head, arms, legs and hands
stomack, fingers, toes and knees
eyes, ears, mouth and chin
Penis of whishes
balls of dreams
soul of loss