George Johnston's English language translation of Christian Matras's poems is likely to be the only dual-language book of Faroese poetry or any Faroese literature available. 'Úr Sjón og Úr Minni, or Seeing and Remembering', is a small book of short verses, and one of the last collections of poetry written by Christian Matras.
Seeing and Remembering contains 20 short verses, between two and eight lines each, with the original Faroese poems facing Johnston's translation. The book may appear sparse and is quite a peculiar oddity, but for language learners and appreciators of Faroese-language literature, this is a great and an important discovery.
In the '70's, Johnston visited the Faroe Islands, befriending and working closely with Christian Matras to translate and publish a small collection of his poems in Poetry Foundation's magazine 'Poetry', and later in the Faroese poetry anthology 'Rocky Shores'. Seeing and Remembering was published in '86, but there is no mention of whether they worked together to translate Seeing and Remembering. Johnston did get a chance to visit the Faroe Islands and his friend Christian Matras in the summer of '88, four months before Christian Matras died.
In 'Inward of Poetry', a book of letters between Johnston and his close friend William Blissett, it's suggested that Matras became Johnston's favourite modern poet, and is likely the poet who had the greatest influence on Johnston's late poetry. With this in mind, it becomes a little clearer why this peculiar little book exists.
George Johnston also translated Jørgen-Frantz Jacobsen's 'Barbara' into English, a tradition handed down to him from Jacobsen's close friend Christian Matras. Matras translated Barbara from its original Danish into Faroese.
Showing posts with label Christian Matras. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christian Matras. Show all posts
Thursday, April 2, 2015
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Christian Matras: Faroese Poet
While still little known to English language appreciators of Faroese literature, Christian Matras may be our most accessible Faroese poet, thanks to the efforts of Canadian poet and translator, George Johnston. English translations of Faroese poetry remain few, so discovering, say, one forty-five page work by a writer who has published extensively in the Faroese language is kind of like striking a gold mine.
Christian Matras's poetry was influenced, much like other Faroese writers, by J.H.O. "Janus" Djurhuus, the poet often credited with modernizing and breaking Faroese poetry away from the strictly traditional folk legends and songs. Matras, like Djurhuus, became increasingly influenced by continental philosophy and poetry after studying in Copenhagen. Universal themes would increasingly be explored, but the pastoral island life, the folk legends and the land and sea would never be forgotten. Bridging traditional forms, such as the influential Thomas Kingo's hymns turned twentieth century Faroese folk melodies, with moderns themes, Matras's poetry was somewhat lighter than the 'troll-darkness' that underscored so much of Djurhuus's work. In Djurhuus, darkness often overpowered light, but in the next generation of authors and poets, such as Matras and Heinesen, an earnest appreciation for the landscape and Faroese life, despite the long, dark winters, were guiding themes. In one poem about the island of Matras's birthplace, ''Viðoy'' leaves port in the fog, with the tall cliff, Enniberg, breaking waves at the bow, the island's mountains as its sails and masts, and the sheep and islanders as its cargo.
Unlike a few of his contemporaries, Matras chose to write in the Faroese language, promoting the language even if it meant obscurity on the international scene. But his obscurity did not last long, well, maybe not entirely. By the seventies, the poet and translator George Johnston, well known for his translations of the Icelandic Sagas and other Nordic literature, began collaborating with Matras on English translations of his poetry. By the early eighties, Johnston translated a collection of Faroese poetry, called 'Rocky Shores', that included writers such as Matras, Heinesen, and Karsten Hoydal. Seven years later, Johnston translated a collection of Matras's short poetry; the only such publication of Faroese poetry available to English-language readers today.
Matras's contributions to Faroese culture and arts go beyond his poetry. In the early twenties, Matras published the first modern Faroese-Danish dictionary in collaboration with M.A. Jacobsen. Matras was also a highly regarded translator, and helped repatriate Danish language works by Faroese authors, such as William Heinesen and Jørgen Frantz Jacobsen, to the Faroese language. Translations of Voltaire and Jonathan Swift, among others, helped expand the accessibility of continental works for Faroese readers, just as Djurhuus did for Dante and Homer in the decades before.
Christian Matras's poetry was influenced, much like other Faroese writers, by J.H.O. "Janus" Djurhuus, the poet often credited with modernizing and breaking Faroese poetry away from the strictly traditional folk legends and songs. Matras, like Djurhuus, became increasingly influenced by continental philosophy and poetry after studying in Copenhagen. Universal themes would increasingly be explored, but the pastoral island life, the folk legends and the land and sea would never be forgotten. Bridging traditional forms, such as the influential Thomas Kingo's hymns turned twentieth century Faroese folk melodies, with moderns themes, Matras's poetry was somewhat lighter than the 'troll-darkness' that underscored so much of Djurhuus's work. In Djurhuus, darkness often overpowered light, but in the next generation of authors and poets, such as Matras and Heinesen, an earnest appreciation for the landscape and Faroese life, despite the long, dark winters, were guiding themes. In one poem about the island of Matras's birthplace, ''Viðoy'' leaves port in the fog, with the tall cliff, Enniberg, breaking waves at the bow, the island's mountains as its sails and masts, and the sheep and islanders as its cargo.
Unlike a few of his contemporaries, Matras chose to write in the Faroese language, promoting the language even if it meant obscurity on the international scene. But his obscurity did not last long, well, maybe not entirely. By the seventies, the poet and translator George Johnston, well known for his translations of the Icelandic Sagas and other Nordic literature, began collaborating with Matras on English translations of his poetry. By the early eighties, Johnston translated a collection of Faroese poetry, called 'Rocky Shores', that included writers such as Matras, Heinesen, and Karsten Hoydal. Seven years later, Johnston translated a collection of Matras's short poetry; the only such publication of Faroese poetry available to English-language readers today.
Matras's contributions to Faroese culture and arts go beyond his poetry. In the early twenties, Matras published the first modern Faroese-Danish dictionary in collaboration with M.A. Jacobsen. Matras was also a highly regarded translator, and helped repatriate Danish language works by Faroese authors, such as William Heinesen and Jørgen Frantz Jacobsen, to the Faroese language. Translations of Voltaire and Jonathan Swift, among others, helped expand the accessibility of continental works for Faroese readers, just as Djurhuus did for Dante and Homer in the decades before.
- 'So Deep, So Deep' and 'The Company of the Blind', were published in an August 1970 issue of Poetry Magazine, and are available online at the poetryfoundation.org.
- A selection of Matras's poems, such as 'So, Deep, So Deep', 'Viðoy', and 'the Milkmaids' were included in a collection of Faroese poetry, 'Rocky Shores', collected and translated in 1981 by George Johnston. This collection is not in publication any more, so check the stacks at your public and university libraries.
- 'Seeing and Remembering: Strophes', translated by George Johnston, is published by Penumbra Press in 1988 and is still available on their website.
- Matras's poems have also been put to music by Agnar Ellebye on the album ''Páll fangi og bygd og hav''. The song ''Ein løta við brian og agnar'' is available for download on amazon and musicme. The complete album is available from tutl, the Faroese music store.
Thursday, December 25, 2014
Úti í Grøv og Mai-mynd
Àarinnar hvítu blettir
tekkjast gilsins botni í --
og við ósan alduslettir
sællir berjast barnastríð.
Og víð vágsins smáu brotum
duffar æðuríkisverð --
ríðandi á alduskotum
summarmjørkafleyrið fer.
Undan fjallatokusløri
hómast blettir, skúmi líkir --
kavalægd hjá grønum svørði
dikst við dalsins mórudíkir.
Christian Matras's first poem, Mai-mynd, was inspired by a park just outside the town of Klaksvik. If you have ever visited Úti í Grøv, you're sure to understand why the peaceful spot so easily inspires. The small campside just outside the park happened to be the first place we stayed on our visit, in August of 2012, and it quickly become our favourite place in the Faroe Islands, as we found ourselves spending our entire trip exploring and enjoying the area, neglecting even a full days stay in the captital!
On each visit to the Faroe Islands, we managed to spend quite a bit of our time camping at Úti í Grøv. Here, spruce and pine plantations straddle the banks of two cascading rivers, and wild heather bursts into purple flowers in the summer. Beyond the park's fence, following the two rivers upstream, the grass yields to the rock outcrop, and is surrounded on both sides by a steep headland. A large cleft cuts through the middle of the white cliffs towering beyond. I have always dreamed of standing on those cliffs, looking west upon the valley, with the park and plantation below, and possibly onwards towards Eysturoy and Streymoy. Standing there, I could shift my view from the endless sea in the south to the east, and look down upon the cozy settlement of Árnafjørður, nestled in the deep fjord, with Fugloy, Svinoy, and perhaps Viðoy, sailing in the sea fog beyond. But I would be sure to wait for a clear day to climb those cliffs, so I could look north along the spine of Borðoy's greatest mountains. Someday, I hope I will climb across those mountains, too.
The area has even inspired my own writing. In the fog, the area beyond what can be seen from the park below turns into a dream, with infinite brooks meandering through rock mazes. The world up there feels small yet immense. If the eyes are cast to the ground, the world of elves and hidden people abounds. Lifting the gaze, birds circle the towering ledges above, reminding us that ancient giants carved these great steps and seats. In one story, I take a walk up into this rock fall, in an attempt to view the towering Mykjanoyrarfjall.
Climbing to the Kviging pass one cloudy day, we were helped up the steep talus slope by the wind only to find a warm, sun-filled valley seated in the calm dry air below. It looked like paradise: the grass, this day, was greener on the other side. Unfortunately, we were not prepared to climb down.
tekkjast gilsins botni í --
og við ósan alduslettir
sællir berjast barnastríð.
Og víð vágsins smáu brotum
duffar æðuríkisverð --
ríðandi á alduskotum
summarmjørkafleyrið fer.
Undan fjallatokusløri
hómast blettir, skúmi líkir --
kavalægd hjá grønum svørði
dikst við dalsins mórudíkir.
Christian Matras's first poem, Mai-mynd, was inspired by a park just outside the town of Klaksvik. If you have ever visited Úti í Grøv, you're sure to understand why the peaceful spot so easily inspires. The small campside just outside the park happened to be the first place we stayed on our visit, in August of 2012, and it quickly become our favourite place in the Faroe Islands, as we found ourselves spending our entire trip exploring and enjoying the area, neglecting even a full days stay in the captital!
On each visit to the Faroe Islands, we managed to spend quite a bit of our time camping at Úti í Grøv. Here, spruce and pine plantations straddle the banks of two cascading rivers, and wild heather bursts into purple flowers in the summer. Beyond the park's fence, following the two rivers upstream, the grass yields to the rock outcrop, and is surrounded on both sides by a steep headland. A large cleft cuts through the middle of the white cliffs towering beyond. I have always dreamed of standing on those cliffs, looking west upon the valley, with the park and plantation below, and possibly onwards towards Eysturoy and Streymoy. Standing there, I could shift my view from the endless sea in the south to the east, and look down upon the cozy settlement of Árnafjørður, nestled in the deep fjord, with Fugloy, Svinoy, and perhaps Viðoy, sailing in the sea fog beyond. But I would be sure to wait for a clear day to climb those cliffs, so I could look north along the spine of Borðoy's greatest mountains. Someday, I hope I will climb across those mountains, too.
The area has even inspired my own writing. In the fog, the area beyond what can be seen from the park below turns into a dream, with infinite brooks meandering through rock mazes. The world up there feels small yet immense. If the eyes are cast to the ground, the world of elves and hidden people abounds. Lifting the gaze, birds circle the towering ledges above, reminding us that ancient giants carved these great steps and seats. In one story, I take a walk up into this rock fall, in an attempt to view the towering Mykjanoyrarfjall.
Climbing to the Kviging pass one cloudy day, we were helped up the steep talus slope by the wind only to find a warm, sun-filled valley seated in the calm dry air below. It looked like paradise: the grass, this day, was greener on the other side. Unfortunately, we were not prepared to climb down.
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