CHILDHOOD

FIVE CHILDREN IN LINE AND ONE FATHER WITH A CLUB

CRYING IN CHORUS AND A POOL OF PISS

WE STICK OUT OUR HANDS

FOR PREDICTABILITY’S SAKE

THEN THE SOUND OF BLOWS LANDING

SISTER JUMPS UP SO QUICKLY

FROM ONE FOOT TO THE OTHER

DOWN HER LEG A WATERFALL OF PISS

FIRST ONE HAND THEN THE OTHER

IT GOES LIKE THIS FOR A LONG TIME LANDING

BLOWS RANDOMLY

A BLOW A SCREAM A NUMBER 30 OR 40 OR SOMETIMES 50

AND ONE LAST BLOW ON THE ASS ON THE WAY OUT THE DOOR

HE TAKES BROTHER BY THE SHOULDERS STRAIGHTENING HIM UP

KEEPS BEATING AND COUNTING

I LOOK DOWN AND WAIT FOR IT TO BE MY TURN

MOM SMASHES PLATES IN THE STAIRWAY

MEANWHILE AL-JAZEERA TRANSMITS

HYPERACTIVE BULLDOZERS AND RESENTFUL CORPSES

GAZA STRIP IN THE SUNSHINE

FLAGS BEING BURNT

IF A ZIONIST DOESN’T RECOGNIZE OUR EXISTENCE

IF WE EXIST AT ALL

WHEN WE HEAVE WITH PANIC AND PAIN

WHEN WE GASP FOR BREATH OR MEANING

IN SCHOOL WE AREN’T ALLOWED TO SPEAK ARABIC

AT HOME WE CAN’T SPEAK DANISH

A BLOW A SCREAM A NUMBER

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BARNDOM

FEM BØRN PÅ RÆKKE OG EN FAR MED EN KØLLE

FLERGRÆDERI OG EN PØL AF PIS

VI STIKKER SKIFTEVIS EN HÅND FREM

FOR FORUDSIGELIGHEDENS SKYLD

DEN DER LYD NÅR SLAGENE RAMMER

SØSTER DER HOPPER SÅ HUTIGT

FRA DEN ENE FOD TIL DEN ANDEN

PISSET ER ET VANDFALD NED AD HENDES BEN

FØRST DEN ENE HÅND FREM SÅ DEN ANDEN

GÅR DER FOR LANG TID RAMMER

SLAGENE VILKÅRLIGT

ET SLAG ET SKIRG ET TAL 30 ELLER 40 TIL TIDER 50

OG ET SIDSTE SLAG I RØVEN PÅ VEJ UD AD DØREN

HAN TAGET BROR I SKULDRENE RETTER HAM OP

FORSÆTTER MED AT SLÅ OG TÆLLE

JEG KIGGER NED OG VENTER PÅ DET BLIVER MIN TUR

MOR SMADRER TALLERKENER I OPGANGEN

SAMTIDIG MED AT AL JAZEERA TV-TRANSMETTERER

HYPERAKTIVE BULLDOZERE OG FORTØRNEDE KROPSDELE

GAZASTRIBEN I SOLSKIN

FLAG BLIVER BRÆNDT

HVIS EN ZIONIST IKKE ANERKENDER VORES EKSISTENS

HVIS VI OVERHOVEDET EKSISTERER

NÅR VI HIKSTER ANGSTEN OG SMERTEN

NÅR VI SNAPPER EFTER VEJRET ELLER MENINGEN

I SKOLEN MÅ IKKE TALE ARABISK

DERHJEMME MÅ VI IKKE TALE DANSK

ET SLAG ET SKRIG ET TAL

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PLASTIC FLOWER

IN THE APARTMENT I BURNED DOWN

WE ALWAYS ATE ON THE FLOOR

DAD SLEPT ON A MATTRESS IN THE LIVING ROOM

THOSE OF MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS WHO WERE BORN

WERE SCATTERED ACROSS THE APARTMENT

ONE AT THE COMPUTER

ONE CRAWLING ON THE FLOOR AND ONE WITH MOM IN THE KITCHEN

IF YOU KEEP BOTHERING YOUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS

I’LL BURN YOU SAID MOM HOLDING FATHER’S

LIGHTER UP

BUT WHEN SHE PUT IT DOWN

I SNATCHED IT UP QUICK

I PUT THE LIGHTER IN MY POCKET THEN LEFT WITH GUILTY STRIDE

PLACED MYSELF IN THE CORNER BETWEEN THE RADIATOR AND THE SOFA

LET THE FLAME LICK PLASTIC STALK

I SAT THERE UNTIL I COULD SIT NO LONGER

WALKED AWAY AND FIRST LOOKED AT THE FLAMES

THEN AT DAD

AND THOUGHT IT BEST TO LET HIM SLEEP

BUT THEN MOM CAME IN SCREAMING

AND DAD WOKE UP WELL BEFORE PRAYERS

AND THE FLAMES TOOK HOLD

AND DAD CRAWLED UP THE STAIRS IN HIS UNDERWEAR

HAIRY LIKE A GORILLA HE WARNED THE TAMIL FAMILY UPSTAIRS

WE WENT DOWN TO THE BASEMENT AND WAITED FOR THE FIRE DEPARTMENT

THE ONLY THING LEFT WHEN WE GOT BACK UPSTAIRS

WAS THE BLACK TELEVISION WE’VE HAD FOR A FEW YEARS

ITS BACKSIDE WAS MELTED

AND MY EARLIEST CHILDHOOD MEMORIES WERE BURNT

I PUT OUT NEWSPAPERS

UNTIL MOST OF THE FLOOR WAS

COVERED

I LOOKED OVER ALL THE WORDS AND PICTURES

UNTIL DINNER WAS BROUGHT IN

IF DAD SPOTTED WORDS LIKE SEX OR COCK

OR A PICTURE OF A SCANTILY CLAD SCANDIAVIAN

THAT APPEALED TO AN INFIDEL

HE TORE IT OUT OR FLIPPED THE NEWSPAPER OVER

BUT ON NEW YEAR’S EVE WE ATE AROUND A TABLE

THERE WAS KETCHUP AND COLA AND KNIVES AND FORKS

HE GAVE A FEW SMACKS IF THE MOOD GOT TOO GOOD

OTHERWISE WE ATE SO CIVILIZED

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PLASTIKBLOMST

I DEN LEJLIGHED JEG BRÆNDTE NED

SPISTE VI ALTID PÅ GULVET

FAR SOV PÅ EN MADRAS I STUEN

DE AF MINE SØSKENDE SOM VAR FØDT

VAR FORDELT RUNDT I LEJLIGHEDEN

EN VED COMPUTEREN

EN KRAVLENDE PÅ GULVET OG EN HOS MOR I KØKKENET

HVIS DU BLIVER VED MED AT IRRITERE DINE SØSKENDE

BRÆNDER JEG DIG

SAGDE MOR OG HOLDT FARS

LIGHTER OP

MEN DA HUN LAGDE DEN FRA SIG

KOM JEG HENDE I FORKØBET

JEG TOG LIGHTEREN I LOMMEN GIK MINE SKYLDIGE SKRIDT

SATTE MIG I HJØRNET MELLEM RADIATOREN OG SOFAEN

LOD FLAMMEN SNAVE PLASTIKSTILKEN

JEG SAD DER TIL JEG IKKE KUNNE SIDDE DER MERE

GIK LIDT VÆK OG KIGGEDE FØRST PÅ FLAMMERNE

SÅ PÅ FAR

OG TÆNKTE AT DET VAR BEDST AT LADE HAM SOVE

MEN SÅ KOM MOR SKRIGENDE IND

OG FAR VÅGNEDE LANGT FØR BØNNEN SKULLE BEDES

OG FLAMMERNE TOG FAT

OG FAR KRAVLEDE OP AD TRAPPERNE I UNDERBUKSER

BEHÅRET SOM EN GORILLA

ADVAREDE HAN ALLE TAMILERNE I OPGANGEN

VI GIK NED I KÆLDEREN OG VENTEDE PÅ BRANDVÆSNET

DET ENESTE VI FIK MED OVER I DEN NYE OPGANG

VAR DET SORTE FJERNSYN VI HAVDE ET PAR ÅR ENDNU

BAGSIDEN VAR SMELTET

OG DEN TIDLIGSTE BARNDOMS MINDER VAR BRÆNDT

JEG FORDELTE EN MASSE AVISER

TIL DET MESTE AF GULVET VAR

DÆKKET

BETRAGTEDE ALLE DE ORD OG BILLEDER

TIL MADEN BLEV BRAGT IND

HVIS FAR FIK ØJE PÅ ORD SOM SEX ELLER PIK

ELLER ET BILLEDE AF EN LETPÅKLÆDT SKANDINAV

DER APPELLEREDE TIL EN VANTRO

REV HAN DET AF ELLER VENDTE AVISEN OM

MEN NYTÅRSAFTEN SPISTE VU RUNDT OM ET BORD

DER VAR KETCHUP OG COLA OG KNIVE OG GAFLER

HAN GAV ET PAR FLADE HVIS STEMNINGEN BLEV FOR GOD

ELLERS SPISTE VI SÅ CIVILISERET

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

HOLIDAY 1

MOM SAID THAT HER FATHER HAD AN AWESOME MERCEDES

BEHIND THE BLACK GARAGE DOOR

BUT THAT IT WAS ONLY FOR DRIVING

AROUND ON SPECIAL OCCASIONS

AND WHEN WE NEEDED TO FLEE FROM THE ISRAELIS

EVERYTIME I WENT BY THE GARAGE DOOR

I STOPPED AND TOUCHED THE HEAVY IRON CHAINS

I IMAGINED HOW IT COULD HAVE LOOKED

I BUG MY GRANDPA AND MY UNCLES

TO GO DRIVING

SAID I HAD LEARNED TO DRIVE A CAR IN DENMARK

IN A PARKING LOT

WITH CONCRETE BLOCKS ON ONE SIDE

AND CONCRETE BLOCKS ON THE OTHER

MY UNCLE TOOK ME ON A RIDE

IN HIS OLD MERCEDES

HE SAID THAT IT WAS SO TOO DANGEROUS

TO LET ME DRIVE ON THE ROADS

THAT TRAFFIC WAS DIFFERENT HERE THAN IN DENMARK

THE CIVIL WAR AND THE PETROL PRICES

HAVE MADE PEOPLE CRAZY HE SAID

TURNED LEFT TO A LARGE

AND HUMAN-FREE GRAVEL FIELD

WE CHANGED PLACES

DRIVE SLOWLY BUT SURELY

SLOWLY BUT SURELY SAID THE UNCLE

WHO WOULD ONE DAY BE MISSING AN KIDNEY IN DUBAI

HE TOOK A SMOKE IN HIS MOUTH

GIVE ME ONE UNCLE I SAID WITHOUT THINKING ABOUT IT

YOU ARE STILL A LITTLE BOY

I ALSO LEARNED THAT IN DENMARK UNCLE

HE KISSED ME ON THE CHEEK AND THE SUN KISSED HIM

I DROVE AROUND IN CIRCLES AND BLEW OUT SMOKE

A FEW DAYS LATER WHEN THE BOMBS DROPPED

THE GARAGE DOOR WAS FINALLY OPENED

I HARDLY REGISTERED THE ISRAELI DRONES

MY LITTLE BODY TREMBLED WITH EXCITEMENT

THE OLD MERCEDES

JUST AS DUSTY AND RUSTY AS MY UNCLE’S

ROLLED OUT IN FRONT OF US

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FERIEMINDER 1

I MOR SAGDE AT MORFAR HAVDE EN FLOT MERCEDES

BAG DEN DER SORTE GARAGEPORT

MEN AT DEN KUN VAR UDE AT KØRE

VED FESTLIGE LEJLIGHEDER

OG NÅR VI SKULLE FLYGTE FRA ISRAELERNE

HVER GANG JEG GIK FORBI GARAGEPORTEN

STOPPEDE JEG OP OG RØRTE VED DEN TUNGE JERNKÆDE

FORESTILLEDE MIG HVORDAN DEN MON SÅ UD

JEG PLAGEDE MIN MORFAR OG MINE ONKLER

OM AT KØRE DEN

SAGDE AT JEG HAVDE LÆRT AT KØRE BIL I DANMARK

PÅ EN PARKERINGSPLADS

MED BETONBLOKKE PÅ DEN ENE SIDE

OG BETONBLOKKE PÅ DEN ANDEN

MIN ONKEL TOG MIG MED PÅ EN KØRETUR

I SIN GAMLE MERCEDES

HAN SAGDE AT DET VAR FOR FARLIGT

AT LADE MIG KØRE PÅ VEJENE

AT TRAFIKKEN HER VAR ANDERLEDES END I DANMARK

BORGERKRIGEN OG BENZINPRISERNE

HAR GJORT FOLK SKØRE SAGDE HAN

DREJEDE TIL VENSTRE VED ET STORT

OG MENNESKETOMT GRUSAREAL

VI BYTTEDE PLADS

MEN KØR STILLE OG ROLIGT

STILLE OG ROLIGT SAGDE DEN ONKEL

DER EN DAG MANGLEDE EN NYRE I DUBAI

HAN TOG EN SMØG I MUNDEN

GIV MIG EN ONKEL SAGDE JEG UDEN AT TÆNKE MIG OM

RYGER DU SPURGTE HAN OG FANDT EN MERE FREM

DU ER JO STADIG EN LILLE DRENG

DET HAR JEG OGSÅ LÆRT I DANMARK ONKEL

HAN KYSSEDE MIG PÅ KINDEN OG SOLEN KYSSEDE HAM

JEG KØRTE RUNDT I CIRKLER OG PUSTEDE RØG UD

ET PAR DAGE SENERE DA BOMBERNE FALDT

BLEV GARAGEPORTEN ENDELIG ÅBNET

JEG REGISTREREDE KNAP DE ISRAELSKE DRONER

MIN LILLE KROP DIRREDE AF SPÆNDING

DA EN GAMMEL MERCEDES

LIGE SÅ STØVET OG RUSTEN SOM MIN ONKELS

RULLEDE UD FORAN OS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yahya Hassan was a poet and a stateless Palestinian with a Danish passport. He was an iconoclast who sat on neither side of the political sphere, criticizing both Danish and Palestinian culture for failing his generation. His first collection of poems sold over 120,000 copies. Its follow-up was released a few months before his untimely passing at the age of 24, on April 29th, 2020.

 

Jordan Barger is a translator living in Philadelphia. His work has taken him to Ivar Aasen Tunet in Ørsta, as well as the British Center for Literary Translation’s Summer School for both Norwegian and Danish.