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A stunning selection of poems from the great twentieth-century Dutch poet.Against the Forgetting presents the work of an important twentieth-century Dutch poet, Hans Faverey. The first extensive selection of his poetry in English, this collection brings together poems from his eight published volumes of poetry spanning the years 1968 to 1990—the last volume, Default, he received only two days before his death. In addition, a selection of poems from a posthumous collection, Spring Foxes, first published in Holland...
A stunning selection of poems from the great twentieth-century Dutch poet.Against the Forgetting presents the work of an important twentieth-century Dutch poet, Hans Faverey. The first extensive selection of his poetry in English, this collection brings together poems from his eight published volumes of poetry spanning the years 1968 to 1990—the last volume, Default, he received only two days before his death. In addition, a selection of poems from a posthumous collection, Spring Foxes, first published in Holland in 2000, is also included. The translator Francis Jones writes, "Hans Faverey left behind a poetic structure of uniquely subtle richness and beauty, made from so little—a few words, surrounded by silence." Filled with a precision and arresting musicality comparable to the hermetic poems of Celan and Bronk, and as mysterious as the writings of Heraclitus and the German mystic Meister Eckhart, Faverey's poems, like Lichtenberg's lightning frozen in time, lash out, splintering systems and syntax—enlightening.
* * *
under construction, demolition under construction. 'Emptiness,
so stately on her stem'; land in sight, blindfold.
* * *
intervenes here. The match, in
accordance with orders, communicated, burning.
* * *
The evacuated air-lock
(till someone's brains, lungs, liver, spleen no longer acknowledge him;
no longer have knowledge of him.)
* * *
A leak in the silence: noise -.
What codes? what filters? (The 1st grape: splat! The 2nd grape: splat!
* * *
So this man bows
to where nothing is; picks up the rope,
rolls up the rope, blows away the letters
and goes away himself.
* * *
The unbutterfly - the
grey, speckled one - was here.
One of the gifts: a gadget for sucking the time
from things, from organisms.
The other gift is best left unmentioned.
* * *
of the clotted; insectoid movements; selection tests
with semantic double filters -. There is still communication, but of the type that
bites its tail and drives its tail-sting straight through its head.
Cycle for the Thin Girl I
* * *
Shouldn't we be leaving here?
Everything's getting overexposed. Here it already has a different name and doesn't smell of much.
Or should we stay here.
Should you want to stay here.
* * *
Distance. What does distance matter;
how does distance work. Can it even unwind a man, then wind him up again?
Of course it's the principle that counts,
if there's a principle that counts.
* * *
What direction's it coming from?
The same direction. And are the other data correct? As far as one can tell.
What do you think you'll do now?
Whatever will you do now.
* * *
The end? No. Almost
the end? No. But what do you mean by no: - salt as well?
Can you hear me: salt as well? Yes. Salt as well? Yes, salt.
* * *
Or should we stay here:
should I want to stay here. When the upper lip is lifted the teeth feel cold.
When both lips are gone,
your teeth feel colder still.
* * *
3 in the morning, 4 at night;
okay?). Parting from a series of shapes; precisely what is silting up inside you, you do not know.
Round skull, angular teeth.
Your sun won't shine long enough now.
* * *
Old rain; new rain.
Prendre la balle au bond or missing it. Fur, from a fox's armpit; stealing a clock,
and keeping your ears shut.
Dashing the egg against the stone.
Excerpted from AGAINST THE FORGETTING by HANS FAVEREY Copyright © 2004 by Lela Zeckovic-Faverey. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
|The evacuated air-lock||5|
|A leak in the silence: noise-||6|
|So this man bows||7|
|The unbutterfly - the||8|
|Shouldn't we be leaving here?||13|
|Distance, What does distance matter||14|
|What direction's it coming from?||15|
|The end? No, Almost||16|
|Or should we stay here||17|
|3 in the morning, 4 at night||18|
|Old rain; new rain||19|
|(Can you still hear me?)||20|
|Pelican to the||21|
|Emptying one's head||25|
|Nothing is wiped out as fast||26|
|When the time comes||27|
|I sit in my circle||28|
|Smoke from the smokehole||29|
|Now the hour is standing still||30|
|Why? Because I am sitting||31|
|He who cannot wait for the unhoped-for||32|
|Mir nix: dir nix||33|
|Maybe only much later||34|
|Did this man here have||35|
|Same old river landscape||36|
|As far as the eye can see||37|
|In seed and crystal||38|
|First the message kills||39|
|Only when someone in a photo||41|
|If I want to do something||42|
|If it brings anything about||43|
|Little by little -||44|
|Flash of darkening||47|
|I have forgotten what I||48|
|'You're making me into something I'm not||49|
|Having been lying on one's left side||50|
|That you never existed||51|
|Where she now is, now||52|
|As soon as it looks at itself||53|
|It's clearer now in my head||54|
|Behind the light, deeds are dead||58|
|So is it a dream after all||59|
|It won't be long now before||60|
|Or, by lingering||61|
|Where the apricot tree||63|
|It is snowing||64|
|This is the penalty||65|
|When there is nothing left||66|
|Oblivion knows no time||67|
|If only I were who I have remained||71|
|Forcing into oneself and||72|
|The summer has grown old||73|
|Lisping of sometimes silken chains||74|
|A ball is at rest, or it is||75|
|The earth, being earthwork||76|
|What is of fire falls to no other share||77|
|Default of wind||78|
|The same riverbank, mine||79|
|Captured in his own net||80|
|An angler fish does nothing other||81|
|Changing fortunes of war: eclipse||82|
|The same net, hung out to dry||83|
|The pond lies inside the lake||84|
|The chestnut is eating out of my palm||85|
|Inside the palm-nut lies a fish||86|
|On the strength of what's no longer here||87|
|So I start up anew as of old||88|
|Down, till nothing remains of||89|
|If grief, as foreseen, comes to a dead||90|
|In one of those early evenings||91|
|What happens when, in the depths||92|
|What gives rise to the certainty||93|
|Now it is here||94|
|Now I, walking backwards||95|
|It is not yet now||96|
|Inhospitable facts no longer serving||97|
|When: what you see is there no more||98|
|An early evening as it should be||99|
|Ever more of the same||100|
|Nothing comes to be||101|
|What the west wind left her with||102|
|How is nothings itself||103|
|Following the river upstream||104|
|Only when all has been ordered||105|
|Something like a desert of his own||106|
|My aquarium houses as many liters||107|
|Why is it like this; and when||108|
|In the end I let you bathe in light||109|
|Towards the end the cut withstands||110|
|The notion that my body||114|
|'My love, the hart of time||115|
|The fragile, the disquieting||116|
|This is how I goes under||117|
|The muffled thud with which the strange cat||119|
|'Although I am a swallow||120|
|Extremely slowly the snail||121|
|What it is all about||122|
|The night is mortal||123|
|It has been thundering||124|
|One of my hands rises||125|
|I suddenly turn round||126|
|I fill my lungs and enter||127|
|If the opening were forever||128|
|Although is is forever||129|
|More fleeting than my shadow is||130|
|Everything existing stretches||131|
|To be able to lash out||135|
|As soon as I raise my eyes||136|
|Why did she not stay where she is||137|
|Beating his lead with the blunt||138|
|As a woman might||139|
|There is not much else than here||140|
|Night escapes its shades of dawn||141|
|The eyes which grant||142|
|Is the same not good enough then||143|
|Its only riddle: how||144|
|How come the unmoving||145|
|The angel leans further and further||146|
|Time and again I have to love you||147|
|Spring, it must be, Persephone||148|
|On its ever so tricky thread||151|
|On a hiding to nothing||152|
|Doesn't the shadowy rose||153|
|Letting a night train||154|
|Shortly before it is too late||155|
|Casting all caution aside||156|
|The way a man stands in his garden||157|
|The train scarcely slackens speed||158|
|She has let herself fall on her bed||159|
|Seldom has a panther's leap||160|
|To stare without desire, with no||161|
|As simple as a drop of water||165|
|Nowhere has denying||166|
|Yesterday, yes, I still existed here||167|
|With one hand in my lap||168|
|Since nobody was there anyway||169|
|One fine day it was night||170|
|If later, or sooner, it is||171|
|'Then they went away too,'||172|
|Index of First Lines||175|