In Café Borges on Bankastræti
everyone has brown
eyes.
everyone has brown
eyes.
Here they once sold pantyhose–
says Simone–that forked like paths
in two, even three.
says Simone–that forked like paths
in two, even three.
Yes–says Tiziano–lovers fought here
until someone laid a
sword
between them, naked.
until someone laid a
sword
between them, naked.
Fires are burning.
In Café Borges on Bankastræti
everyone has stubble and a smile.
You have the widows and the widowers
who slurp soup spiced with Fáfnir’s-grass
and add in adages
with forks
that fork like pantyhose.
At a corner table a man in a turtleneck snores.
everyone has stubble and a smile.
You have the widows and the widowers
who slurp soup spiced with Fáfnir’s-grass
and add in adages
with forks
that fork like pantyhose.
At a corner table a man in a turtleneck snores.
Up and down the hill the dead pass, patting the café wall.
I am married to the owner. We have four children.
© Sigurbjorg Þrastardottir. Translation © 2011 by T. Zachary Cotler.
Á Café Borges í Bankastræti
eru allir með brún
augu.
eru allir með brún
augu.
Hér voru einu sinni seldar sokkabuxur–
segir Simone–sem klofnuðu eins
og stígar í tvennt, jafnvel þrennt.
segir Simone–sem klofnuðu eins
og stígar í tvennt, jafnvel þrennt.
Já–segir Tiziano–hér rifust elskendur
þar til einhver kom og lagði
sverð
í meðal þeirra bert.
þar til einhver kom og lagði
sverð
í meðal þeirra bert.
Eldar brenna.
Á Café Borges í Bankastræti
eru allir með skeggbrodda og brosa.
Þangað koma ekkjur og ekklar
sötra súpu með fáfnisgrasi og
hræra út fleyg orð
með göfflum
sem klofna eins og sokkabuxur.
Við hornborð hrýtur maður í rúllukragabol.
eru allir með skeggbrodda og brosa.
Þangað koma ekkjur og ekklar
sötra súpu með fáfnisgrasi og
hræra út fleyg orð
með göfflum
sem klofna eins og sokkabuxur.
Við hornborð hrýtur maður í rúllukragabol.
Upp og niður brekkuna fer dáið fólk; klappar steininn.
Ég er gift eigandanum. Við eigum fjögur börn.
Sigurbjorg Þrastardottir is a poet, playwright, and novelist in Reykjavik. Her debut collection of poetry, Blálogaland (Land of Blue Flames) was published in spring 1999, followed the year after by Hnattflug (Circumnavigation), which was voted best poetry book of the season by staff-members of Icelandic bookstores, and then in 2007 by Blysfarir (Torch Marches), which was nominated for the Nordic Council’s Literature Prize. Her first novel, Sólar saga (The Story of Sun), received the Tomas Gudmundsson Literary Prize 2002. The prize is granted every other year by the Mayor of Reykjavik. Þrastardottir’s poetry has been translated into several languages and published in Germany, Sweden, and Italy. A bilingual collection of her poems in Icelandic and English (translated by Bernard Scudder), To bleed straight, was published by Forlagið in 2008. Her newest book of poems, Brúður (Bride/Dolls), was published in 2010.