It happens that recently I wrote two poems, in quite a wild act of nostalgia. They aren’t much – more like a description of a feeling you get on a sunny day. Besides the fact of their simplicity, I still wanted to share them.
What’s better for chill and slow little Sunday evening than few Norwegian poems? Let’s dive together into those beautifully composed art pieces in this fine, spring day (well at least I hope you guys having a lovely spring as well).
A young vocalist, poet, musician, and songwriter from Bergen, the most beautiful city in Norway. His music is marked by, quite common for people from the west region here, the burr (skarre-r in Norwegian). If you want to know what exactly is this burr, you need to check out his music.
A poet of workers and life on the edge of Oslo. Despite his really precocious death, at the age of 28, he left us with three volume of poems. På stengrunn (On stony ground 1925), På gjensyn (On reunion 1926), and posthumously Hverdagen (Everyday).
The author of The Birds (Fuglane) and The Ice Palace (Is-slottet) is mostly known for his novels. However, not only he wrote novels, but also multitude of poems, such us Regn i Hiroshima, and Det ror og ror, whereas I translated myself the first one.
Albertine i politilægens venteværelse
When you want to imagine how Norway looked under the poverty in the second part of 19th century, you must check on this amazing Norwegian artist, and one of the leaders of Oslo artistic Bohemia, Christian Krohg. He’s most famous for fellow Norwegians, which is a pity, and that’s why I want to bring closer his persona.
Born in Oslo after the Second World War, inspired by André Breton, famous french writer and the leader of surrealistic movement. He created a whole world himself, just before he decided to end his life. Because life is sometimes too much to handle. But before he did this gruesome decision, he was the most influential modernist poet in ’80s and ’90s. His works are short, meaningful and for someone who’s not used to poetry – can be quite weird. His poetry isn’t called the background noise of the universe (David Winters at Full Stop) for no reason. Here are some of his poems that I’ve picked (and those who had english translation). Continue reading “Tor Ulven – the tragic poet.”