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