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Poetry General

What We Are When We Are

Kaj smo, ko sm

translated by Tom Priestly

by (author) Cvetka Lipu

Publisher
Athabasca University Press
Initial publish date
Sep 2018
Category
General
  • eBook

    ISBN
    9781771992510
    Publish Date
    Sep 2018
    List Price
    $19.99

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Description

Working within a postmodern style, this rhythmic and melodious collection of poems originally written in Slovenian by Cvetka Lipu and translated here by Tom Priestly, blends the real with the surreal, dull urban lives with dreams. Lipu, known for the lexical beauty of her work, dwells on topics of time and space which she handles in an almost revolving, irreverent manner. Priestly captures the maze-like characteristic of her verse and carefully reconstructs the sonoric beauty of the work in its original language.

About the authors

Tom Priestly is professor emeritus in the Department of Modern Languages and Culture Studies at the University of Alberta and the author of numerous translations including Jani Virk’s The Last Temptation of Sergiy (2016).

Tom Priestly's profile page

Born in Austria, Cvetka Lipu is the author of seven collections of poetry in Slovenian. Kaj smo, ko smo (2015), for which Lipu received the Preeren Foundation Award, was shortlisted for the Veronika Prize, Slovenia’s most prestigious poetry prize.

Cvetka Lipu's profile page

Awards

  • Short-listed, Veronika Prize

Excerpt: What We Are When We Are: Kaj smo, ko sm (translated by Tom Priestly; by (author) Cvetka Lipu)

To-do list

 

First thing in the morning I check you off the list,
for you are still asleep. Together the sun and I
make our rounds, we add up the streets in our district,
I subtract the one with a dog. During the meeting,
engrossed in a game of Battleships, when someone says “A 4”
the project goes belly-up. After lunch I throw in
the towel, so that all afternoon I am counting
the threads and strands. On the way home
I pop into the store for merchandise into which
I put my efforts. My legs find their way into
a nearby bar: there people I know
balance up the empty years and the full
glasses into an odd number. When I get back,
you are half asleep. Drowsily you look over
your own list and cross me off.

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