Arvis Viguls
(Lettonie, 1987)





La Poésie en ce temps
Qui nous sommes
Une asbl, pour quoi faire ?
L'équipe
31 mars - 2 avril 2017
15-17 avril 2016
24-26 avril 2015
25-27 avril 2014
12-14 avril 2013
20-22 avril 2012
01-03 avril 2011
23-25 avril 2010
24-26 avril 2009
11 mars 2009
18-20 avril 2008


Biographie


Arvis Viguls is a poet, translator and author of articles and radio programmes on Latvian literature. His debut book Istaba / The Room (Riga, Satori, 2009) was awarded the Poetry Days Prize and The Annual Latvian Literature Award as a debut of the year and won the author a creative grant from Ventspils International Writers’ and Translators’ House. His second book 5:00 (Riga, Mansards, 2012) was awarded The Anna Dagda Award and shortlisted for The Annual Latvian Literature Award.

Arvis Viguls translates poetry from English, Spanish and Russian (Whitman, Lorca, Brodsky and others).


Poème



Grāmata

Citai pēc citas es pieskaros savām rētām,
manai vienīgajai kamuflāžai,
lai atcerētos, kas esmu.
Es vairs neprotu mest krustu –
šis ir mans pēdējais rituāls.

Vissenākā ir tā uz kreisā pleca –
no vakcīnas pret bakām –
apaļa, it kā tur
kāds būtu nodzēsis cigareti.
Tās bija manas pirmās kristības.

Man ir daudz sīku skrambiņu
ap visiem desmit roku pirkstiem –
pa vienam uz katru bausli.
Bērnībā man patika naži.
Tolaik nebija citu rotaļlietu.

Es mēdzu izlikt savā priekšā uz galda
visus asos priekšmetus,
ko varēja atrast mājās,
un devu tiem vārdus
tā, kā dod vārdus dēliem.

Zirga vecumu nosaka pēc zobiem,
sāpju vecumu – pēc rētām.
Un tomēr es vēl esmu pavisam jauns.
Šeit – un tas jāsaka čukstus –
vēl ir daudz brīvas vietas.



The book

One after another I touch my scars,
my only camouflage,
so I can remember, who I am.
I don’t know how to make the sign of the cross anymore –
this is my last ritual.

The oldest one is on my left shoulder –
from the smallpox vaccine –
round, like someone
put out a cigarette there.
That was my first baptism.

I have many fine scratches
all over my ten fingers –
one for each commandment.
As a kid I liked knives.
In those days there were no other toys.

I used to put all of the
sharp things I could find at home
in front of me on the table,
and give them names
like they give names to children.

They determine a horse’s age by its teeth,
the age of pains – by their scars.
And yet I’m still very young.
Here – and it must be said with a whisper –
there’s still a lot of space left.

(Translated from Latvian by Jayde Will)