Ainokaisa Huusko from Helsinki Poetry Connection visited us in London and we took advantage to do two things: a radio programme, which we filmed, and a translation experiment. Using a very personal poem she wrote and performed on the Metro of the Finnish capital, we asked her to translate it into English at the same time we used Google’s poetic prowess to render it in English. Then our Associate Editor, Juan Toledo, wrote his own interpretation based on Google’s version and without having seen the author’s own translation. Here you can see the results.
The Original
TÄTÄ RUNOA EN HALUAISI KIRJOITTAA
Kun on mennyt tarpeeksi kauan tainnuttavan tasaisesti
jokin suunnittelemattomuuden rillumarei nostaa päätään
Uppoaa kuin öljy veteen, mehevästi kiemurrellen sateenkaarenväreissään
On kuin nöyrän keskitienkulkijan keskipakoisvoima Olen oppikirjamateriaalia:
Pitenevät dagen efterit, muistivaikeudet, vapinaryypyt, piilopullot
ja juuri kun tämän häpeän on saanut lapioitua päästään, se täyttyy taas uudella viinalla
Omistan kokonaisen kokoelman kaatumatautisia housuja
Oikean polven reikä kuin musta aukko neljän päivän putkeeni
Koko tämä kadotettujen huivien ja liinojen joukko,
joita yhdistelemällä seuraisit minua kai takaisin alkuun
Takit, avaimet, puhelin, pyöränlukot. Koko vitun reppu läppäreineen ja henkilödatoineen!
Ja ei, en halua rehabiin. Eri syistä kuin Viinitalo. Tämä on neljänkympin pro-uhma
kun runoilijatkaan eivät ole enää yksinäisiä, tai juoppoja, niin Aino hukkuu omaan tahtoonsa!
It´s my party and I cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to!
Ja kun seuraavasta kieltäytyminen ei ole kaiken sallimista,
niin yksi vielä on lempeyttä itseään kohtaan Niinhän?
Osa-aikajuoppous, siirtymätilat, pullosieluisuus ja lasi on aina säännöllisesti vähintäänkin täynnä
tätä hetkeä Minulla on keskivaikea riippuvuus rajattomuuden tunteestani ja elämä – on rajatila
Hanhiaurat lentävät tööttäillen puiston yli sateessa
Siellä minä laimennan krapulaani miedolla lonkerolla
Jätän tyhjän tölkin jälkeeni kuin käyntikortin
tai häikäisevän avunhuudon
Ainokaisa Huusko – Helsinki – October 2018
Google’s Poetic Prowess
I WOULDN’T WANT TO WRITE THIS POEM
When it’s gone long enough stunningly steady
a bender of unpredictability raises his head
Sinks like oil in water, succulently swaying in its rainbow colors
It is as humble middle of the road pedestrian centrifugal force I’ve textbook material:
Prolonged daggers, memory problems, tremors, hidden bottles
and as soon as this shame has been shaken, it is filled with new wine
I own a whole collection of crash-proof pants
Right knee hole like a black hole in my four day tube
This whole bunch of lost scarves and shawls,
you combine to follow me back to the top
Jackets, keys, phone, wheel locks. The whole fucking backpack with laptops and personal data!
And no, I don’t want rehab. For different reasons than Winery. This is a forty pro-defiant
when the poets are no longer lonely or drunk, Aino drops by her own will!
It´s my party and I cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to!
And when refusing to follow is not permitting everything,
one still has the gentleness of himself to Yeah?
Part-time drunkenness, transition modes, bottle spirits and glass are always at least full at regular intervals this moment I have a moderate dependence on my feeling of boundlessness and life – there is a borderline
Geese fluttering across the park in the rain, working hard
I’ll dilute my hangover with a mild Lonkero
I’ll leave the can empty like a business card
or a dazzling cry for help
A Re-write
A POEM I WOULDN’T WANT TO WRITE
When it is gone long enough and brilliantly steady
A binge of unpredictability raises his head
Sinking like oil in water, swaying in its rainbow colours in a succulent manner
It is pedestrian middle of the road humble centrifugal force like textbook material
Prolonged daggers, memory problems, tremors, hidden bottles
and as soon as this shame has been distilled, it is filled with fresh new wine
I own a whole collection of crashout-proof pants
And a right knee hole like a black hole in my four day communion.
And with a whole set of lost scarves and shawls,
You could follow me back to the beginning.
Jackets, keys, phone, wheel locks. The whole fucking backpack with laptops and personal data!
And no, I don’t want rehab. For different reasons than Winery (1). This is a forty pro-defiant stance
when poets are no longer lonely or drunk, Aino will drop in by her own will!
It´s my party and I cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to!
And when refusing to follow is not permitting everything,
one still has the gentleness of himself to yeah sure?
Part-time drunkenness, transition modes, bottled spirits and glasses are always at least full
at regular intervals At the moment I have a moderate dependency on my feelings of boundlessness and life – but, there is a borderline though.
My geese are fluttering across the park in the rain, working hard
I’ll dilute my hangover with a mild Lonkero (2)
I’ll leave the can empty like a business card
or a dazzling cry for help
1. Amy Winehouse
2. A Finnish gin-based liqueur
Juan Toledo, London July 2019
The Author’s Translation
I WOULDN’T WANT TO WRITE THIS POEM
When I’ve lived long enough stunningly steady
some unpredictable chance of a bender raises its head
sinks in like oil to water juicily twisting in its technicolour coat
The centrifugal force of straight and narrow I’m study material:
Prolonged hangovers, short-term memory problems, tremors & hidden bottles
and just when I’ve managed to empty my head from all this shame, it fills up again with new booze
I own a whole collection of epileptic trousers
Tear on the right knee like black hole to my four-day binge
All these lost scarves and hankies lot
combining them you would probably trace me back to the start
Coats, keys, phones, bike locks…entire bloody back bag with computer & personal details!
And no, I don’t wanna go to rehab – for different reasons than Winehouse
This is…40 year old’s pro-defiance – when even poets are no longer lonely
or drunkards – so Aino will drown herself in her own will!
It’s my party and I cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to
When refusing the next one is not allowing everything
one more is act of kindness towards oneself Right?
Part-time drunkenness, transition modes, bottled spirit and the glass is regularly at least half full with this moment I have moderate addiction to feelings of independence and life – depends a lot
Geese fly in V-shape over my head in rainy park
There I tame my hangover with diluted lonkero
I leave the empty can behind me like a business card or
dazzling cry for help
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