Tóroddur Poulsen, translations by Randi Ward

Randi Ward has translated five poems from the collection Fjalir by Faroese poet Tóroddur Poulsen. The original Faroese-language poem and woodcut print accompanies each translation. Click on the link above each poem set to view the woodcut.

The complete collection of Fjalir in Faroese is available online at HNJ's and Rit og Rak.

Anne Carson, translated by Oddfríður Marni Rasmussen

Canadian poet and classicist Anne Carson has been given the nod by Faroese poet Oddfríður Marni Rasmussen. The poem Býur apostlanna (Apostle Town) can be found online at Vencil. To compare with the original, along with the complete collection of The Life of Towns, visit North Dakota State University, or buy the collection of poetry and essays, Plainwater, online at amazon. 

Oddfríður has translated many English-language poets, playwrights and authors into Faroese, such as Samuel Beckett, Raymond Carver, and Jim Carroll. Interested readers can find some of his translations, including a handful of his original works in the Faroese literary magazine Vencil. A collection of 12 translations of Anne Carson's poetic works, along with many other translations can be found in the 6th edition.

Oddfríður's English language short story"Age Erases Itself" and poem "From the bottom of the chest" are included in Vencil's English Special Edition, published in 2011.

For a more complete list of his works, along with a few pieces of his poetry, check out his wordpress page. Find a listing of his works produced in the Faroese literature magazine at Vencil.

George Johnston: Poetry in Translation

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.

Randi Ward: Faroese Poetry in Translation

Writer and photographer Randi Ward has introduced us to the works of three Faroese poets: Sissi Kampmann, Vónbjørt Vang, and Tóroddur Poulsen. These poets, a mix of emerging and established talent, provide a glimpse into Faroese literature. Find the English translations and the poems in their original Faroese at words without borders, a magazine celebrating international literature. A biography of each poet accompanies each poem.

• Sissi Kampmann's the round table is the eye
• Vónbjørt Vang's on the bed
• Tóroddur Poulsen's The Expiration Date

Randi Ward also provides a great introduction to the contemporary Faroese literature, the writers working today, and the issues facing Faroese artists in her article "Rocking the Boat in the Faroe Islands".

Selections of Randi Ward's work can be found on her website with photography at broadzine.

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.

• '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.

Faroese Literature

On my trip to the Faroe Islands in 2013, I had the joy of visiting Heðin Brú's home town of Skálavík, on the island of Sandoy. The bus driver on the route between Dalur and Sandur discussed Faroese politics and literature with me, and was pleased to mention that he was a descendant of the great Faroese poet, J.H.O Djurhuus. Many Faroese have the privilage of such a lineage. The population of the islands is under 50,000 and many Faroese are authors, poets, musicians or artists.

While the bookshelves are teaming with recent Faroese publications and translations of foreign works, finding some of the great classic works, such as those from J.H.O Djurhuus, is difficult; most are long out of publication, and a few may be long forgotten. Some of the classics can be found on abebooks and ebay, but these choices are often costly. A collection of Djurhuus's poems retailed for over 100 CAD, including shipping; not a bad price for a serious collector, but far out of range for the average student seeking to explore Faroese poetry. Current Faroese publications, often from the Faroe's largest publisher, Sprotin, are still moderately expensive when compared to books available on this side of the Atlantic.

During my 2013 trip to the Faroe Islands, I was fortunate enough to find a recently published, beautiful, hardback edition of Heðin Brú's Stuttsøgur (short stories) from Rit og Rak in Tórshavn. At about 50 CAD (and weighing a hefty 1.5 kilograms), the price was worth it, and I didn't mind carrying the weight as I hiked from bygd to bygd. I also found the Faroese language Fedgar á Ferð (The Old Man and His Sons) in both paperback and compact disc, only to later discover that both were available online as an e-book and downloadable mp3 for much cheaper.

Sprotin's e-books are often more than half the price of their printed versions. Pól F's collection of poetry, Heilsan Pól F., for example, retails at 249 DKK (about 50 CAD) for the printed version, while the e-book retails for 129 DKK (25 CAD). Join the bookclub and save an additional 20 percent on Sprotin's electronic and printed publications.

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.

Reading in Faroese

It was only a few weeks after purchasing our tickets to Iceland sometime in June that we decided to add flights to Faroe. We couldn't resist, and thought, how could we be so close and not go? And, if life treats us well, we are hoping to visit the islands again next summer.

With school and life, it's been difficult to find the time to pick up the language, but the return to my favourite island nation this past summer rekindled that interest. I purchased a few books and an audio book during our visit to help me get in the spirit. I'm moving away from learning conversational Faroese and am focusing on reading literature. There is something about attempting to translate a short story. You learn so much about syntax, word usage and you get to see first hand how the language abounds with idiomatic expressions. It does take time, but I do it in the evenings now and I actually find it relaxing after a long day. I like learning conversational Faroese, but when I'm already studying for school, I need something a little more, well, like a puzzle and less like a lesson.

For those who enjoy this method of learning the language, Sprotin publishes the Faroese version of the "Old Man and His Sons", by Heðin Brú. Both paper, cd and electronic versions are available and the English version is readily available from Amazon or Book Depository. It is the only Faroese book that has all English, Faroese and audio versions available that I am aware of, but it is a little daunting due to its length, despite being a short novel. Other English translations of literature written in the Faroese language are not easily available, but you may be able to locate the rare "Faroese Short Stories" from the Library of Scandinavian Literature, published by Twayne Pub. and The American-Scandinavian Foundation. Even if you are not learning the language this way, it's a great book to bring you back to a favourite place that also gives you a peek into the development of earlier Faroese literature.

The Faroese short stories are filled with the landscape that I enjoy so much. Heðin Brú delivers some of the best and are among my personal favourites. From reading the handful of his stories available to me, I couldn't resist purchasing the newly published collection of his stories, despite being illiterate in Faroese. The collection of short stories stands as a monument to my time in Faroe this past summer, spending time on Sandoy, the island of his birth, and the long discussions of language, politics and literature with our bus driver who also happened to be a descendent from the poet Janus Djuurhus!

For now, I use a story written by Heðin Brú that I found in Lockwood's "Introduction to Modern Faroese". "Krossvatn" has no English translation, but that almost works to an advantage. It takes time, but the slow process allows you to soak in the grammar naturally. I'm still trying to make sense of the first paragraph, but I know the story is about a lake which is more of a pond, but despite its small stature, has something about it that's bigger than life -- or maybe it's deathly still but something is alive. Lockwood's text does a good job of providing some of the idiomatic expressions in the glossary.

Where Everything Begins

To these cliffs

To these rocks in the great ocean

The world is anchored,

Here is the place 

Where everything begins

And where everything returns in the end.

Gunnar Hoydal

Nothing but the North Sea

I'm looking at a map of Scotland and... here we are. It's fairly easy to spot the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry lines linking the islands to the each other and the mainland with all these dotted lines criss-crossing each other. When I first visited Scotland nearly a decade ago I fell in love with this form of transportation. My sister took us to the Isle of Arran on the large CalMac ferry and to Cumbrae on a much smaller but no less impressive boat. Both were so exciting that I set out to become better acquainted with travel at sea.

Studying this very same map I hold in my hands now, I could see so many possibilities… too many. We can even go from one place to the other and another, like this: Ardrossan to Brodick on Arran, to Kintyre to Islay to Colonsay and back to mainland, and so on, till you're at the top in the Highlands. From Ardrossan to Arran was about an hour by sea. Now, some of these are much further away, like the ferry lines to the Outer Hebrides. Searching the CalMac website, they could take up to 3 hours. Three hours at sea. that's no short time. A three hour ferry ride would be incredible.

Looking back at my map, I shift my thoughts to Scotland's eastern coast and begin following a dotted line from Aberdeen. This line must be at least five times the length of any of the routes in the western isles. And as it turned out, the ferry from Aberdeen ends up in Lerwick, the largest town in the Shetlands, and was an overnight trip of about 12 hours. Overnight on a ferry. In the middle of the sea. My mind was turned on. Now, 12 hours on a boat is not like on any other form of transportation. If the boat was anything like Arran's Caledonian Isles, your not cramped like you are on a bus, train or plane.

Travelling by ferry may be the only form of transportation where you can walk outside as it's moving along, right to the railings and look down below. You can go to the front of the boat and to the back, left and right. You can also have a cabin or berth. On a boat, you're more inclined to keep an eye out for land ahead, and when spotted, you're glued to the deck in all manner of wind and rain and weather, awaiting the landing. You're excited but also saddened that the journey couldn't go on. Travelling by ferry is really the one of the few ways to give a proper farewell to the places you visited too, as you can stand on deck and watch the islands, towns and villages you spent days or weeks or even months becoming acquainted with gradually recede into the distance. And so you resolve to make a life out of travelling between islands. And with this, I'm reminded of how Jane and I came to our trip, how I came to know about the Faroe Islands, and how they sparked my imagination like no other place on earth could.

A lot of time was spent studying the island groups and ferry networks of Shetland and Orkney. I imagined sleeping in these places and being surrounded by miles of dark sea. Shetland is about 100 kilometers northeast of mainland Scotland and I could think, if I were on these islands, I would really be there and no where else. There is the treeless landscape too, where the true shape of the landscape reveals itself, with rolling hills, jagged coastal cliffs and sharp sea stacks. But on the map my mind drifted along this one dotted line...

There is something about being led by a dotted line into what seems like the edge of the world, into sea and darkness. Did the line lead to a remote island like St. Kilda? I couldn't imagine the destination being very large in size or hospitable. It couldn't be... and it couldn't be too far north and yet, it was off the map... what could i make of this dotted line with the strange looking name of Tórshavn?-- it doesn't look or sound Scottish. I couldn't imagine thinking of anything above the Shetlands. To me, they seemed like the edge of the world... What and where is this Tórshavn? . . .

Depending on the map available, the line leads you northwest of Sheltand from Lerwick. I wasn't wrong in thinking that the Shetlands are the northernmost inhabited islands of Scotland. So then, what was Tórshavn?

Land ho! Shetland ahead!

It's important to understand why we seek out learning a new language, where that inspiration comes from, and how learning the language and culture becomes a passion. We should never forget where this enthusiasm comes from. We should always return to it in the end.

The poem above was found in the book 'The Faroe Islands' by Liv Kjørsvik Schei and Gunnie Moberg and can be purchased online from Solberg. Gunnar Hoydal is a Faroese writer and architect living in Tórshavn today. 

Eg oyggjar veit - I know some islands

Eg oyggjar veit, sum hava fjøll 
og grøna lìð,
og taktar eru tær við mjøll 
um vetratìð,
og àir renna vakrar har 
og fossa nògv,
tær vilja allar skunda sær 
ì blàan sjogv
Gud signi mìtt føðiland Føroyar

This is the first verse of the song Eg Oyggjar Veit, written by Frìðrikur Petersen. The audio track of this verse can be heard, along with all other tracks from the textbook "Faroese: A Language Course for Beginners" on the Stiðin website (Stiðin is a Faroese publisher).

The verse sums up the Faroe Islands almost too well, although there is much more to the Faroe's than the steep mountains and cascading rivers described in it. Yet, it's likely to be this image that holds our imagination best. There are six verses to this song but I have yet to find a complete translation of it. Maybe the rest of the song adequately describes the other beautiful aspects of the Faroes, like life, the birds, the fog and clouds, the wind and sea... okay, it was written some time in the 19th century and we know much has changed since then, and though the nature remains, I don't imagine the song reflects on the network of tunnels that wind through the mountains and under the sea, and the modern network of paved roads that has begun to replace the village paths. Well, I can think of these as I experienced them last summer, or as I've known about them for some time before that, thinking in wonderment about these islands and their mountains and the roads that keep the Faroese people connected. Only later did I learn about the ferry and helicopter connections between the remote villages, and later about the language that has connected the Faroese people for so long. And I only need to recall 'I know some islands' to be connected to the wealth of thoughts, images and feelings that I now have of this place.