we are glad you came...sorry you had to go...life is just obliquities to obsequies ultimately...but somebody has to write those songs the radio doesn't sing...
I learned of this passing from Brooklyn Copeland's blog.
Here is an image I stole from Wiki of a house painted with one of her poems, her celebrated "Alphabet," which uses the Fibonacci sequence (as Ron Silliman did in Tjanting).
here it is from wwww.erasmuspc.com in translation...with some explanation...
Copenhagen CityPoem: Alfabet, Inger Christensen
As Christensen has explained: “The numerical ratios exist in nature: the way a leek wraps around itself from the inside, and the head of a snowflower, are both based on this series.” Her system ends on the n, suggesting many possible meanings including “n’s” significance as any whole number. As with det, however, despite its highly structured elements this work is a poetically evocative series concerned with oppositions such as an outpouring of the joy of the world counter posed with the fears for and forces poised for its destruction.
Alphabet
1
apricot trees exist, apricot trees exist
2
bracken exists; and blackberries, blackberries;
bromine exists; and hydrogen, hydrogen
3
cicadas exist; chicory, chromium,
citrus trees; cicadas exist;
cicadas, cedars, cypresses, the cerebellum
4
doves exist, dreamers, and dolls;
killers exist, and doves, and doves;
haze, dioxin, and days; days
exist, days and death; and poems
exist; poems, days, death
5
early fall exists; aftertaste, afterthought;
seclusion and angels exist;
widows and elk exist; every
detail exists; memory, memory's light;
afterglow exists; oaks, elms,
junipers, sameness, loneliness exist;
eider ducks, spiders, and vinegar
exist, and the future, the future
6
fisherbird herons exist, with their grey-blue arching
backs, with their black-feathered crests and their
bright-feathered tails they exist; in colonies
they exist, in the so-called Old World;
fish, too, exist, and ospreys, ptarmigans,
falcons, sweetgrass, and the fleeces of sheep;
fig trees and the products of fission exist;
errors exist, instrumental, systemic,
random; remote control exists, and birds;
and fruit trees exist, fruittherein the orchard where
apricot trees exist, apricot trees exist
in countries whose warmth will call forth the exact
colour of apricots in the flesh
7
given limits exist, streets, oblivion
and grass and gourds and goats and gorse,
eagerness exists, given limits
branches exist, wind lifting them exists,
and the lone drawing made by the branches
of the tree called an oak tree exists,
of the tree called an ash tree, a birch tree,
a cedar tree, the drawing repeated
in the gravel garden path; weeping
exists as well, fireweed and mugwort,
hostages, greylag geese, greylags and their young;
and guns exist, an enigmatic back yard;
overgrown, sere, gemmed just with red currants,
guns exist; in the midst of the lit-up
chemical ghetto guns exist
with their old-fashioned, peaceable precision
guns and wailing women, full as
greedy owls exist; the scene of the crime exists;
the scene of the crime, drowsy, normal, abstract,
bathed in a whitewashed, godforsaken light,
this poisonous, white, crumbling poem
8
whisperings exist, whisperings exist
harvest, history, and Halley's
comet exist; hosts exist, hordes
high commanders, hollows, and within the hollows
half-shadows, within the half-shadows occasional
hares, occasional hanging leaves shading the hollow where
bracken exists, and blackberries, blackberries
occasional hares hidden under the leaves
and gardens exist, horticulture, the elder tree's
pale flowers, still as a seething hymn;
the half-moon exists, half-silk, and the whole
heliocentric haze that has dreamed
these devoted brains, their luck, and human skin
human skin and houses exist, with Hades
rehousing the horse and the dog and the shadows
of glory, hope; and the river of vengeance;
hail under stoneskies exists, the hydrangeas'
white, bright-shining, blue or greenish
fogs of sleep, occasionally pink, a few
sterile patches exist, and beneath
the angled Armageddon of the arching heavens, poison,
the poison helicopter's humming harps above the henbane,
shepherd's purse, and flax, henbane, shepherd's purse
and flax; this last, hermetic writing,
written otherwise only by children; and wheat,
wheat in wheatfields exists, the head-spinning
horizontal knowledge of wheatfields, half-lives,
famine, and honey; and deepest in the heart,
otherwise as ever only deepest in the heart,
the roots of the hazel, the hazel that stands
on the hillslope of the heart, tough and hardy,
an accumulated weekday of Angelic orders;
high-speed, hyacinthic in its decay, life,
on earth as it is in heaven
1981
About the author
Inger Christensen (b. 1935) is a Danish poet, novelist, and essayist.
Born in the town of Vejle, on the eastern, Jutland coast of Denmark, she is considered the foremost poetic experimentalist of her generation.
Much of Christensen’s work is organized upon “systemic” structures in accordance with her belief that poetry is not truth and not even the “dream” of truth, but “is a game, maybe a tragic game—the game we play with a world that plays it’s own game with us.”
She won the Austrian State Prize for European Literature in 1994, the Nordic Prize in the same year, the European Poetry Prize in 1995, The America Award in 2001, and has received numerous other distinctions. Her works have been translated into several languages, and she has been frequently mentioned as a candidate for the Nobel Prize in literature.
Some more discussion of the translated "Alphabet" can be found here...
http://www.complete-review.com/reviews/dansk/christi.htm
Pierre Joris's appreciation excerpts his own translation of Christensen's most famous poem. This is from his blog Nomadics...
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Inger Christensen (1935-2009)
Via AFP: Inger Christensen, considered one of Denmark's greatest authors and long mentioned among probable candidates for a Nobel Literature prize, has died at the age of 73, on Friday, January 2, her publisher said on Monday. Born on Jan 16, 1935 in the western Danish town of Vejle, Christensen published her first collection of poems, Lys (Light) in 1962, followed by Graes (Grass) a year later, Det (It) in 1969, Alfabet (Alphabet) in 1981 and Sommerfugledalen (The Butterfly Valley), which critics have hailed as her masterpiece, 1991.
A few years ago, New Directions started to publish her work in the US and have so far brought out ALPHABET, BUTTERFLY VALLEY, and IT, very ably translated by Susanna Nied. Here is what I wrote on her for SULFUR magazine in 2002, and below those notes, an extract from Alphabet I translated in the early 90ies for Poems for the Millennium II:
Inger Christensen -- poet, novelist, essayist -- is the foremost Danish experimen-talist of her generation. Maybe her single finest work to date, Alfabet (1981) is a book-length poem using two reticulating systems: the alphabet (that adamic, prelapsarian state of language, as Roland Barthes suggests, because it is pre-word & pre-syntax, & thus before misuse, lying, rhetoric, polysemy are possible) & the Fibonacci series (where each number is the sum of the two previous ones, i.e.: 1,2,3,5,8,13,34,47,81,128...) Thus the first section of the poem is one line long and starts with an "A", the second 2 lines long, and starts with a "B", etcetera). Concerning the series, Christensen has said in an interview:
It was by accident that I found out about the Fibonacci series. These numerical ratios exist in nature — the way a leek wraps around itself from the inside, and the head of a sunflower, are all based on this series. That's what's so amazing. The series itself and its pecularities are more extraordinary than any poetry collection could be. A book of poetry becomes a metaphor for a mathemetical series, rather than vice-versa.
On her use of systematic porocedures for composing poetry, she told the same interviewer:
By using a system you are trying to reveal the rhythm of the universe. In the creation story, first there is silence, and then come patterns.... a useful benefit of a system is that you can't just write the first thing that comes into your mind; because of the resistance of the system you get onto the track of something that you wouldn't otherwise have thought of. The gift is that you are forced to put much more of the world into the poem. Sometimes it feels as though the poem is carrying you along. You have access to a universe that begins to carry you... into something that you would never have been able to see or write.
The rhythmic-syntactic base-line of the poem is the first line's joyous affirmation ("apricot trees exist, apricot trees exist") — modulated, as the poem takes in more of the world, by the noted existence of destruction & evil. While the early sections are single units, with the seventh letter ('g') — which in the Fibonacci series cor-responds to 34 — these units start to decompose into stanzas, and with section ten ('i' — 128 lines) into seperate poems . As each section foregrounds words star-ting with the alphabetically corresponding letter, translation tends to lose some of the systematicity. (Thus for section 9, the Danish word "is" easily yields the English "ice," but in the next section the "j" of "jorden" is lost in its English translation "earth").
from Alphabet
9
ice ages exist, ice ages exist,
ice of the arctics and ice of the kingfisher;
cicadas exist, chicory, chrome
and the chrome yellow iris, the blue iris; oxygen
indeed; also ice floes in the arctic ocean,
polar bears exist, as fur inscribed
with an individual number he exists, condemned to his life;
& the kingfisher's mini-drop into the ice-blue rivers
of mars exists, if the rivers exist;
if oxygen in the rivers exists, oxygen
indeed; exists indeed there where the cicadas'
i-songs exist, there indeed where chicory
heaven exists blue dissolved in
water, the chrome yellow sun, oxygen
indeed; it will exist for sure, we will
exist for sure, the oxygen we breathe exists,
eye of fire crown of fire exist, and the heavenly
inside of the lake; a handle infolded
with bulrushes will exist , an ibis exists,
and the movements of the soul inhaled into clouds
exist, like oxygen storms deep inside Styx
and in the heart of wisdom's landscape ice-light,
ice identical with light, and in the inner
heart of the ice-light emptyness, live, intense
like your gaze in the rain, that fine life-
iridescent rain where gesture-like
the fourteen crystal lattices exist, the seven
crystalline systems, your gaze in mine,
and Icarus, impotent Icarus exists;
Icarus swaddled in melting waxwings
exists; Icarus pale as a corpse in
civvies exists, Icarus all the way down where
the pigeons exist; dreamers, dolls
exist; the dreamers' hair with cancerous tufts
torn out, the dolls' skin pinned together
with nails, rotting wood of the mysteries; and smiles
exist, Icarus' children white as lambs
in the gray light, will indeed exist, indeed
we will exist, and oxygen on oxygen's crucifix;
as hoar-frost we will exist, as wind we will exist,
as the rainbow's iris, in the shining shoots of
mesembryanthenum, in the tundra's straw; small
we will exist, as small as bits of pollen in peat,
as bits of virus in bones, as swamp pink maybe
maybe as a bit of white clover, vetch, a bit of chamomile
exiled to the lost again paradise; but darkness
is white say the children, the darkness of paradise is white,
but not white as a a coffin is white,
that is if coffins exist, and not
white as milk is white,
that is if milk exists; white is white,
the children say, darkness is white, but not
white as the white existing
before fruit trees existed, their flowering so white,
darkness is whiter, eyes melt
10
june night exists, june night exists,
sky finally as if lifted up to celestial
heights and simultaneously pushed down as gently as when
dreams are visible before being dreamed; a space like
swooned, like saturated with whiteness, a timeless
knell of dew and insects, and nobody in this
gossamer, nobody understands that
autumn exists, that aftertaste and afterthought
exist, only these restless lines of fantastic
ultrasounds exist and the bat's
jade-ear turned towards the ticking fog;
never was the globe's inclination so beautiful,
never were the oxygenated nights so white,
so dispassionately dissolved, softly ionised
white, and never was the limit of invisibility so nearly
touched; june, june, your jacob's ladders
exist your sleeping beasts and their dreams of sleep
exist, a flight of galactic germs between
the earth so earthy and heaven so heavenly,
the calm of the valley of tears, so calm and the tears
sunk back, sunk back in like groundwater again
underground; earth; the earth in its revolution
around the sun exists; the earth in its itinerary
through the milky way exists; the earth on its way
with its load of jasmin, and of jasper and iron,
with its curtains of iron, its portents of joy and random Judas
kisses and a virgin anger
in the streets, jesus of salt; with the jacaranda's shadow
on the waters of the river, with falcons and hunters
and january in the heart, with the well of Japoto della Quercias
Fonte Gaia in Sienna and with july
as heavy as a bomb; witht tame brains,
with heart jars or heart grass or berries,
with the roots of ironwood in the exhausted earth
the earth that Jayadeva sings in his mystic
12 century poem; the earth with its coastline
of conscience, blue and with nests
where the large heron exists, with its neck curved
blue-gray , or the small heron exists, mysterious
and shy, or the night heron, the ash-colored heron exist
and the degrees of wing beats of sparrows, of cranes
and pigeons; the earth with Jullundur, Jabalpur and
Jungfrau exists, with Jotunheim and the Jura
exists, with Jabron and Jambo, Jogkarta
exists, with earth-swirls and earth-smoke exists
with water masses, landmasses, earthquakes exists,
with Judenburg, Johannesburg and the Jerusalem of Jerusalems
*
atombombs exist
Hiroshima, Nagasaki
Hiroshima 6
august 1945
Nagasaki 9
august 1945
140.000 dead and
wounded in Hiroshima
about 60.000 dead and
wounded in Nagasaki
frozen numbers
somewhere in a distant
and ordinary summer
since then the wounded
have died, many at first, indeed
most, then fewer, but in the end
all; in the end
the children of the wounded,
stillborn, dying,
many, continuously,
some, finally the
last ones; in my kitchen
I stand and peel
potatoes; the faucet
runs and nearly
covers the noise of the
children in the yard;
the children yell and
nealy cover the noise
of the birds in
the trees; the birds
sing and nearly
cover the murmur
of the leaves in the wind;
the leaves murmur
and nearly cover
the silence of the sky,
the sky which is light
and the light which since
then has nearly
resembled the fire
of the atom bomb
translated from the Danish by Pierre Joris
1 comments:
Sigh.
She was pretty much one of the coolest.
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