It started as a distraction for a vacant librarian. A fun way to spread poetry, written by poets from various parts of the world, and make it to a "World Cup". The Poetry Slam Team Contest began with 42 teams from Yukon to Yorkshire. It included 168 poems by 168 poets. Now, we have reached the final week.
There are 8 teams, 32 poets, who will compete with 32 new poems in four different themes. Of the poems are 19 of them in English, nine in Swedish and four in German. I have no way to translate the Swedish and German texts into English. I hope my readers can understand that.
**
Teams: Amsterdam; Dublin; Vancouver; Utah; Iceland; Copenhagen/Malmoe; Saxony and South Holland.
Themes: Landscape, Travel, Music and Memories
They will be judged by a jury (five members) and a language teacher. I will explain more about the points when I present their scores from first day of competition, in tomorrow's blog post.
Here are the eight poems competing in round 1, "Landscape".
resa med en vis man / Sjón
 |
| Team Iceland |
(Från Stensamlarens sång / Sjón ; översättning: John Swedenmark ; urval: Sjón och Johan Swedenmark. Malmö : Rámus, 2014.)
på bergen guldskogar
oskördade silverängar
inunder rasmassorna
och stenarna i sluttningen
är ädelstenars skal
se!
i jordlagret
hovavtryck klövavtryck
sigill
från dem som äger landet
***
[Sand gewellt bevor sich die Woge bricht] / Erik Lindner (excerpt)
 |
| Team Zuid-Holland |
(Aus Nach Akedia : [ausgewählte Gedichte]. Deutsch: Rosemarie Still. Berlin : Matthes & Seitz, 2013.)
Sand gewellt bevor sich die Woge bricht
Surfer bäuchlings auf dem Brett
paddeln durch Gischtstreifen.
Ein Strudel folgt der Wand vor dem Strand
der Wind weist weiter die Küste entlang, fixiert
das zerknitterte Laken des Meeres
die kreisenden Schaumflocken. Drei Bäume
auf dem Hügel an der Küste, der bewachsne Sandboden
die glänzenden Nadeln, die Farne, das Gras
und die Berglandschaft dahinter sackt ab
die bröckelnd blaue Schicht des Meeres, die weg
geputzten Wolken, Horizont der nach oben zieht.
***
Ur Till Damaskus / Marie Silkeberg (excerpt)
 |
| Team Öresund Copenhagen/Malmoe |
(Från Till Damaskus : [dikter] / Ghayath Almadhoun och Marie Silkeberg ; [Ghayath Almadhouns dikter är översatta från arabiska via engelska av författarna ; fotografierna: Nahel Abou Hatab]. Stockholm : Bonnier, 2014.)
ser en regnbåge från tågfönstret
och sedan en till
de fyller hela kurvan från jorden mot himlen
eller omvänt
i’m so tired
i can’t walk säger han
visar mig sina svullna blodådror
på handen, handloven
en vit fjäder svävar i luften
mellan husen
i solen
den ännu varma septembersolen
igen
och sedan en till
***
[Im Lichtkreis eines Sterns, im Schatten, den meine] / Christian Lehnert (excerpt)
 |
| Team Sachsen (Saxony) |
(Aus Der Augen Aufgang : Gedichte. Frankfurt am Main : Suhrkamp, 2000.)
Im Lichtkreis eines Sterns, im Schatten, den meine
Sprache wirft, laufe ich über einen dunklen Spiegel,
Lagunen, Tümpel von Salzwasser, die nicht abfließen
können, gerichtet auf keine Perspektive. Ich sehe
nichts geschehen, doch Verschiebungen ... vage,
an der Hand des Kindes, seinem Zeigefinger,
seinen gefundenen Namen: ist etwas an seinem Ort?
Wellen, die in sich selbst zerfallen, ahmen sich nach,
indem sie sich erfinden, geben, was sie empfangen
Antiphon der Flut, die vom Ufer schweigt.
***
To Clouds / Lance Larsen (excerpt)
 |
| Team Utah |
(From Prairie Schooner 85:1, 2011. Lincoln, Neb : University of Nebraska Press, 1927-)
The best part of Hamlet:
watching a tortured prince use you
as a Rorschach blot test. Is that a camel
floating above our heads, no a weasel,
no make that a whale, flukes and all.
Now we are smarter. Now we pin names
that stink of Latin to your lovely hems,
try to track your intentions with oversized
balloons. In the end, I prefer lying on my back
like the next delusional and fishing your terrifying
prairies for pieces of my past. Wispy orphans,
gossamer cousins, you drift in and out
of my sadness.
***
Outside the Village / Eva Gerlach
 |
| Team Amsterdam |
(From Dutch and Flemish issue / edited by Theo Hermans. Modern poetry in translation 12. London : King's College, 1997. “Outside the village” translated by Virginie Kortekaas.)
Heart. Gown of mist around us, lowered
inside us causing us to see
no longer. Help me you said do not
leave me here alone among the emperor moths.
Molehills grew in the dusk,
grew ears, crept over the meadow,
passed grey reed towards the river which
was not there. Once or twice your hand behind
you seemed to reach out for me as if
you wanted to be held but I continued walking
further on.
***
Back West / Simon Ó Faoláin (excerpt)
 |
| Team Dublin |
(From As Gaineamh. Coiscéim, Dublin, 2011. Translation: The Author)
For Dómhnal
This corner of the townland
Where the fields are not neat and rectangular
With parallel boundaries,
But small and irregular, speckled with boulders,
Like a cluster of cancer cells in healthy tissue
Or the absolute opposite.
Above, the zig-zag course of the green track
Back and forth across the mountain’s screen
Shows a pulse, a still-beating heart,
Or perhaps I am mistaken.
***
English Bay (Vancouver) / Chris Hutchinson
 |
| Team Vancouver |
(From Other people’s lives. London, Ontario : Brick Books, 2009.)
An ingenious wind combs the ocean’s surface back
and forth, folds it to black-and-white
piano keys.
The mountains on this coast are not Glenn Gould’s
hunched shoulders— though let’s say the city hums
in homage to his ghost.
Inside a late March sun, gulls flicker and flash—synapses
of a gifted mind? I wish I were a lone disciple,
or at least an audience of one.
But perched everywhere, the anonymous busts of others
like me: shivering romantics, far from genius,
staring out to sea.
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