PRACTICES, POWER & THE PUBLIC SPHERE: DIALOGICAL SPACES & MULTIPLE MODERNITIES in Asian Contemporary Art 
an online showcase curated by Maya Kóvskaya
 

 

BLOODRAIN

by Agnar Artúvertin
translated by Matthew Landrum

 

 

Run through the blood rain on the streets.
Run fast before the police arrive.
Look for an instant – between the houses
the moon is sailing slowly, almost
smilingly. I wonder how it would feel
to be alone at such great a height,
alone but surrounded with many stars:
heaven’s rain or ember, traveling light
but dimmed on arrival. Down here
on the wide plains, it’s perpetually overcast.
I wish I lived up there,
an eternal somnambulant. But no –
not me, rather someone like me, some star
or other come close to earth, one that knows
about me, all of the who is my father
and what have I done? He would live right.
Futile thoughts and foolish longings,
why do you crowd in on me tonight?


*     *     *


RENN GJØGNUM BLÓÐREGN

Renn gjøgnum blóðregn á gøtuni
renn skjótt áðrenn løggan kemur
hygg í hesari løtuni
upp millum húsini
á mánan, ið stillisliga siglir
so brosandi
hvussu hevði tað verið at verið hann
einsamallur heilt haruppi
kringsettur av blaktrandi stjørnum
himmalregni og stjørnugrúsi?
kringsettur av stjørnum, langt síðani deyðar,
ið liva deyðar, ferðast deyðar,
ala deyðar av sær
hygg út á ta víðu rúmd
-ein tung og løgin skipan, broytilig og yvirskýmd
Hevði eg verið haruppi
búð haruppi, andað haruppi,
í ævinligum lívi
Nei, ikki eg,
men onkur annar, sum eisini kundi verið eg
onkur, onkur, stjørna,
sum kendi mítt lív, visti alt um meg,
visti alt um mín Faðir
og nýtti óavvarandi saman við mær
sína vitan til eina tilveru sum stjørnufjøld
langt handan hana her á foldum
Fánýtu tankar og tápuligi longsul,
hví rekast tit so harðliga á meg her í kvøld?

 



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