Uljana Wolf Poems

oh the skein of raggle-taggle village dogs: trickly
tails, stubbly legs, tough teeth fletching at the fence

yours is the street, the dust on an asphalt hem
yours the resonant night in the dormant valley
...

my dear: this is
our pothole love
our little border traffic
awkward under tongues
...

who says that poems are like these dogs
surrounded by their own echo at the village core

of the waiting and pawing at half moon
of the stubborn marking of language terrains -
...

mister, we've been to the zoo, but it was closed, wir wollten die entblößung unserer zähne trainieren, studieren das stimmhafte sehnen zum beispiel der zebras, weil alles zueinander anders sagt, mal so und mal zoo. zuletzt entdeckten wir, verzagt am zäun, ein echsenset. wir nannten sie ginger und fred. it seems, you said, they never called the whole thing off. das gab uns reichlich Stoff für den heimweg.
...

mister, we've been to the zoo, but it was closed. we wanted to practice baring our teeth, to study the voiced musings of the zebras, say, since everything says everything some other way, or two, or zoo. at the gate's zenith or azimuth we espied a set of lizards. we dubbed them ginger and fred. it seems they never called the whole thing off, you said. and this food for thought fed us all the way home.

Translated by Susan Bernofsky
...

mister, that's a zed in the zoo, not a zee, nor the zuider zee, not so bizarre. what's more, in a zed there's Ed. that said, we wear woollens and trainers, and you think us Brits coz our feet are well-trained and not sneaky. but why shoes and not shows? zap a bonspiel of zebras, zigzag in the saga, zip to the zócalo, in the ooze or ozone where zen zealotry zooms home like Jingles to Ed. A toast to the Ee, okay I agree! But after you've drunk it, don't get in a car, there's double zero tolerance (oo) at the border, so zip up your zipper, zoo's not very far.

Variation/alternate translation by Erín Moure
...

mein freund: das ist
unsere schlaglochliebe
unser kleiner grenzverkehr
holprig unter zungen

unser zischgebet
und jetzt streichel mich
auf diesem stempelkissen
bis der zoll kommt

mein freund: oder wir
schmuggeln flügge
geschmacksknospen
gazeta wyborcza und

münzen münzen
in einer flüchtigen
mundhöhle randvoll
zur stoßzeit
...

my dear: this is
our pothole love
our little border traffic
awkward under tongues

our whispered prayer
and now stroke me
on this ink stamp pad
until customs comes

my dear: maybe we'll
smuggle utterly
full-fledged taste buds
gazeta wyborcza and

mint some money
stuffing a suspect
oral cavity
at rush hour
...

o der dorfhunde kleingescheckte schar: schummel
schwänze stummelbeine zähe schnauzen am zaun

euch gehört die straße der staub am asphaltsaum
euch die widerhallende nacht im schlafenden tal

jedes echo gehört euch: der zuckende rückstoß
von klang an den hügeln hierarchisches knurren

und bellen in wellen: heraklisch erst dann hünen
haft im abklang fast nur ein hühnchen das weiß:

wer hier nicht laut und geifer gibt den greift sich
die meute in lauffeuer kehlen verliert sich der ort

so mordio etc. vermesst ihr die welt in der senke
beherrscht jeden weg jeden fremden und mich -

euch gehört meine fährte mein tapferes stapfen
euch meine waden dorfauswärts zuletzt
...

oh the skein of raggle-taggle village dogs: trickly
tails, stubbly legs, tough teeth fletching at the fence

yours is the street, the dust on an asphalt hem
yours the resonant night in the dormant valley

every echo is yours, the shivering repercussion
of sound from the hills, hierarchic growling

and bellowing barking: at first herculean, then hu-
mongous. reverberations recall hens in the know:

whoever doesn't loudly drive his drivel gets mobbed
by the pack, in brushfire throats the place loses itself

so crying wolf you survey the cosmos of this depression
dominating every route, every stranger, and me:

yours is my scent trail, my brave steps
yours are my calves finally out of the village
...