This is the first book of Esther Dischereit’s poetry in English translation and includes selections from her three poetry collections as well as recent, uncollected poems. Esther Dischereit now lives in Berlin and has written plays for stage and radio, essays, short stories and novels alongside poetry. She is founder of the project WordMusic and has curated sound-installations, ‘Vor den Hohen Feiertagen gab es ein Flästern und Rascheln im Haus’ (2009), ‘Particles of the Child with the Big Fat Face’ (2014) and an opera-project ‘Blumen für Otello. Über die Verbrechen von Jena’ (2014). The translator is Scottish poet Iain Galbraith who has won the Stephen Spender Prize, The Popescu Prize and the Schlegel-Tieck Prize for poetry in translation. The poems are presented in the original German with the English translation on the facing page so both can be read alongside each other.
Esther Dischereit’s mother and older half-sister survived the Holocaust and the town she grew up in, Heppenheim, was the site of a small Dachau transit camp, now marked by a plaque that also lists the names of those from Heppenheim who lost their lives. The effects of these traumas were both visible and never spoken of. Esther Dischereit struggled with her identities as a German and a Jew, leading her to renew her faith in adulthood. In ‘Thin-walled I stood…’ (not all poems are titled so the first line is used for identification), published in ‘Als mir mein Golem Öffnete’/’When my Golem opened up’ (1996),
‘Dümmwandig stand ich
zwischen denen, die
stehen steißen sich
an mir dann bückten
sie sich und
halfen mir
die Scherben aufzusammeln
Es ist dann kein Gefäß nicht
mehr aus mir geworden
blieb Ausstellungsstück
vergangener Zeit sodas
sie die Schulklassen
zu mir führten ganz dicht’
‘Thin-walled I stood
among those who
stand who knocked
against me then
bend to
help me
gather the shards
I could never then
not ever become a vessel again
remained an exhibit
of a long, gone time so
they brought their school class
to view me close up’
The poet often uses double negatives to insert a sense of doubt, a moment of resistance against destiny. A child is “thin-walled”, open to influence and instruction and less able to reject corruption because of their lack of experience and knowledge. A resolution of sorts is reached, in ‘I crept beneath Berlin…’
‘Eines Tages krochen wir die Stiege herauf
in mein rasendes Herz
auf die letzten Jahre
und schlug es immermehr laut
raste mir nach in die anderen Länder
bis ich heimkehrte in meinen Keller
und mich entschloss’
‘One day we crept up the staircase
into my frenzied heart
for these last years
and how much harder it beat
careering after me to other countries
until I came home to my cellar
and was resolved’
Travelling abroad didn’t bring peace but returning home to reach an understanding did. In the title poem from ‘Rauhreifiger Mundo der andere Nachrichten’/’Hoar-Frosted Mouth or Other News’ (2001),
‘Manchmal segelt ein enzelnes Blatt
zu Boden von Luftschlieren gefangen
und wieder freigegeben
ich tanze dem Blatt hinterher
und kann mir die Schritte nicht merken
ich strauchele, ruder emit den Armen
das Blatt wird nicht weider fliegen
wie dies eine Mal
kein Blatt wird fliegen wie dies eine.
Hab ich dir neulich gesagt.’
‘Sometimes a single leaf
sails to the ground, caught
by an air plume and released
I dance after the leaf
and cannot remember the steps
I falter, arms flailing
the leaf will not fly again
as it did this once
no leaf will fly like this one.
As I recently told you’
The poem raises questions around observation: even if the leaf followed the same path, it will be observed differently because the observer won’t fully remember the steps in the right order. Another leaf following the same path will not look the same.
In ‘Ich find das komisch’ ‘I find that kind of funny’ from ‘Im Toaster steckt eine Scheibe Brot’/’There’s a Slice of Bread in the Toaster’ (2007), a child finds a monogrammed spoon,
‘Vom schönen Silber allzumal
ist nur der Kaffeelöffel hier gebleiben
alles, alles, blieb doch drüben
Ich sage, Mama, ach dieser Löffel
mit dem Monogramm HR
wer war den das
ich wüsst’ es gern
Sei still, mein Kind, est ist doch schon
so lange her
und außerdem – und außerdem
erinnere ich mich nicht mehr
Ich find das komisch’
‘A coffee spoon is all that’s left
of our beautiful silverware
the rest had to stay back there
I ask, what of this spoon Mama
the one with the initials HR
who was that
I’d like to know
Be quiet, my child, it really is
so long ago
and anyway – and anyway
I’m sure I no longer know
I find that kind of funny’
How does a child learn who they are when family history is closed? There may have been good reason not to tell the child, but without knowing those reasons, the child feels dismissed and cast adrift.
From the newer poems, ‘1866 Gasthaus Zum Lamm’/’The Lamb Inn, 1866’, in contemporary times,
‘im Doft nebenan
wartet ein altgewordenes
Goebbels-Kind
Rosa vom Haus hinter den Judgenhäusern
ist die aus Auschwitz
sitzt neben ihm
bei der Kirmes und hebt
ein schäumiges Bier
Die andere auch.
Sie schlürfen und wischen
die weißen Münder ab.
Auf dem Dachlboden liegen
Abgerissene Schulterstücke.’
‘in the neighbouring village
waits an aged
Goebbels-child
sitting next to her
at the parish fair
Rosa from the house behind the Jews’ houses
is the one from Auschwitz
and raises a foaming glass of beer
as does the other.
They slurp and give
their white lips a wipe.
On the floor of the attic
lie torn-off epaulettes.’
This image of history creeping into the current day and the need to witness recurs in ‘Nachwachsende Zeugen’/‘Renewing Witnesses’
Graue Schlieren
liegen über dem Gras
und auf den ausgebreiteten Röcken
über den Buchseiten
bedecken den Schuh
wenn du hineinschlüpfst
wie feiner Puder
auf Gesicht under Händen
du wäschst sei wieder und wieder
bedeck dich der Staub
der Platz nimmt in deinem Haus
wie ein alter Bekannter
und bleibt.’
‘Grey streaks
lie across the grass
and on our outspread skirts
on the pages of books
covering your shoe
when you slip it on
like a fine powder
on your face and hands
which you wash again and again
the dust covers you
it settles in your house
like an old familiar
and stays.’
The dust settles, you can chose to ignore it, but it remains and needs you to take action.
Throughout this selection of poems the theme of observation and witness recurs. At face value, there’s a sense of bliss in ignorance. The elderly woman raising a beer to her Jewish neighbour choses to remain in the moment of two women acknowledging each other. The Jewish neighbour, however, is forced into a choice, to partake in the moment’s civil charade or be seen as the unfriendly, unreasonable one who reminds the other woman that this veneer of civility is hammered over a past of conflict and trauma. The German woman may not have directly take part, but her comfort is at odds with the inherited trauma of her Jewish neighbour. In her one line poem, ‘Ich geh und lasse meine Splitter leigen’, ‘I go, leaving my splinters behind me’, the image raises the question of whether the speaker is shaking off deadwood and allowing herself renewal or whether those splinters are still part of her and in shedding them is she leaving part of herself behind?
My German is rusty but good enough to know Iain Galbraith has gone beyond the literal translation and brought consideration of the poet’s intention into his translations. The literal translation of ‘Ich geh under lasse meine Splitter leigen’ is ‘I go and leave my splinters to lie’ but ‘lie’ in English can be read ambiguously and introduce an idea not in the original, so ‘I go, leaving my splinters behind me’ is closer to intention and makes the act of leaving active rather than passive. Elsewhere, ‘komisch’ is translated as ‘funny’ rather than ‘comical’ and ‘funny’ is the better word because it is comical that a girl wants to get the family tree to find the origins of a monogram on a spoon but it’s also strange or odd that the family don’t want to comply, so funny is the better fit. In Iain Galbraith, Esther Dischereit has found an ideal translator.
Emma Lee is the recipient of the 2019 and 2020 Best Reviewer Saboteur Award. Her publications include ‘The Significance of a Dress’ (Arachne, 2020) and ‘Ghosts in the Desert’ (IDP, 2015). She co-edited ‘Over Land, Over Sea’, (Five Leaves, 2015). As well as curating the Critical Nib, Emma reviews for a number of magazines.