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By Doina Ioanid |

Doina Ioanid translated from the Romanian by Florin Bican

Doina Ioanid
Translated from the Romanian by Florin Bican

Translator’s note: Doina Ioanid or the epiphany of melancholy

Doina Ioanid’s earlier volumes explore a contracting universe of recognizable enough objects rendered surreal by a painstakingly-pursued process of defamiliarization. In her fifth volume of verse, Chants for Taming the Hedgehog Sow (“Ritmuri de imblinzit aricioaica”, Cartea Romaneasca, Bucharest, Romania 2010), the poet’s earlier universe contracts further still, maintaining nevertheless its epiphanic dimension. Her prose poems are just as many epiphanies, trimming poetic perception – and expression – of all excess baggage. Yet stark they are not. They are, rather, streamlined vehicles (deep-sea vessels spring to mind), and very sophisticated ones at that, meant to take the reader beyond usually unquestioned borders, into an abyss both familiar and scary. While exploring herself, Doina Ioanid seems to trigger off in the reader an irrepressible urge to replicate the process with his/her own personal data. Never was intimacy more discreet – or more universal, for that matter. And that’s what makes Doina Ioanid’s poetry so substantial: the constant yet delicate delving into a multilayered, multifaceted reality in a redemptive attempt to make sense of things without robbing them of their aura. It’s in their inner radiance that epiphany manifests itself, making Doina Ioanid’s poems transcend the harshness of personal experience into a realm verging on both James Joyce’s epiphanies and Gerard Manley Hopkins’ inscapes: Way too tired, way too myopic. Even my name, a squashed clam, sinks through my skin deep within me, past soft tissues, past organs pulsating like terrified suns, deep down where none of the things on the outside can force their way in any more. Doina Ioanid’s poems are just as many instances of complete combustion – acts, thoughts, emotions, memories and feelings are purged of all randomness until exalted to vibrant albeit relaxed significance. There’s not one word too many in there, and the poor translator has a hard time rearranging the vastness and intensity of Doina Ioanid’s poetic perception and expression into an exquisite set of Chinese boxes. Moreover, these Chinese boxes constantly communicate with each other, not only within the same volume, but also from one volume to the other. When translating Doina Ioanid’s poems one has to be at one’s most alert in order not to miss the relevant channels of communication. Still, it’s exhilarating when one hears the translation humming with a melody of its own and recognizes (with a sigh of relief!) the ioanidness of the translated text. Even if one is consumed by its combustion…

By Aaron Simon |

Persons, for Paul Violi, by Aaron Simon

This year saw many of us cross over! Paul Violi, great poet, lovely human being, generous spirit, among them! His poetry is pure pleasure. I (Codrescu) loved his poetry and thought it a holiday whenever one of his new books came. Another person to miss, another poetry to never read! Aye, Aye!

By Ruxandra Cesereanu |

Ruxandra Cesereanu in the Chelsea Hotel 2009

Ruxandra met two old-timers on the Chelsea's fifth floor instantly: they invited us into their ancient apartments & studios and nearly captured her. She'd still be there if she didn't have to be in Cluj and Galilee.

By Grzegorz Wr?blewski |

Poems by Grzegorz Wr?blewski

Poems by Grzegorz Wróblewski

 Translated from the Polish by Adam Zdrodowski

 

 

 

 

 

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