Nahar Keefe-Perry
Västvinden går
Västvinden går.
Västvinden
in genom öppna fönstret
bläddrar i uppslagen bok.
Som alltså läser sig själv.
Fernissan på åran
torkar snabbare nu
och minst en fluga
blir alltid kvar
i den hårdnande, klara massan.
Liksom en fråga
utifrån den kristallklara tomma och nattliga rymden.
Och boken läser sig själv
inte utan eftertanke.
-Lars Gustafsson
A West Wind Blows
A west wind blows.
A west wind
Through open window
Leafing through open book
It then reads itself.
The varnish on the oar,
Now, it dries faster
And at least one fly
Is always left
In the clear and hardening mass
Just like a question
Asked in the clear, empty night.
And the book reads itself,
But not without afterthought.
–Translated from Swedish by Nahar Keefe-Perry
The West Wind Moves
The west wind moves.
The west wind
blows through the window,
Reading through an open book.
The book reads itself.
The varnish on the oar
dries quicker now
and no less than one fly
is always stuck
in the hard, clear mass.
Like an unanswered question
from the outside, the vacuous, crystal clear nightly space.
But the book reads to itself,
not without contemplation.
–Translated from Swedish by Nahar Keefe-Perry
The West Wind Flies
The west wind flies.
The west wind,
through the open window,
riffles the pages of the spread-open book,
and the book, in a way, reads itself.
The varnish on the oar
dries faster now,
and at least one fly
is always left behind
in the hardening, glass-clear skin.
Like a question
ringing out from the crystal-clear, empty, night sky..
And the book reads itself
not without reflection.
–Translated from Swedish by Nahar Keefe-Perry
bastards
(An erasure of my interview with Lincoln Birch Callid Keefe-Perry)
forms,
languages,
dialectics:
There's lots
I speak lots:
Infinite, too much,
constantly adjusting to:
grocery store
Parents
academic
because I needed to.
Native first-generation lexicon
The only phrase passed down was this janky version of “shut the door.”
You never say that to me.
They left because they had been stamped out
no national, only dialects.
mandated efficiency,
radio, in film, and newspaper.
not
a proud people.
Fiercely independent,
cultivate that independence.
strong and powerful throughout their heritage.
Pride
left behind
The British are bastards,
definitely
by virtue of the fact that this is a colonized country
Colonization is an artifact or function of the modern era.
Italian was the dominant language, but not our Italian.
with their mouths,
books,
film.
music.
linguistic chains speak back to me,
Confused why I spoke at all
generations had lost it:
home
–Nahar Keefe-Perry
Translator Statement
Lars Erik Einar Gustafsson was an acclaimed Swedish poet, novelist, and scholar. He was born in 1936 in Västerås, Sweden, where he also spent his formative years. At the age of 25, he received his doctorate in philosophy. He was famous and celebrated for his innovation of the genre of “mathematical lyricist.” He is said to have “...explored the intersection of literature, philosophy, and science, often employing a precise and analytical style in his poetry and prose”(Poetry International). He was also known for his precise use of vocabulary in a way that’s not always common for poetry. He is poetic in his incisive language, not in his fluffy, flowery vocabulary. Later in life, he taught at the University of Texas at Austin in the state of Texas. He passed away in 2016 in Stockholm, Sweden. His writing is still renowned today, especially for his complex descriptions of the common happenings of life. It was easy to choose his poems to translate because he is currently one of Sweden’s most frequently translated contemporary poets (New Directions Book).
His writing intrigued me, reminding me of the Japanese concept of 間 or Ma (Japan House Los Angeles). It is an idea that describes the space between things, both physically and conceptually, and takes joy in the day-to-day happenings of life. This is why I chose my poem, “Västvinden går” (vast-VIN-denn gore). The title of this poem roughly translates to “The West Wind Moves.” The poem describes a summer day and a frozen still frame from that day. Lars Gustafsson’s poem “Västvinden går” first appeared in print in his poetry collection Om begagnandet av elden (On the Use of Fire), published in Sweden in 2010. It was a part of a collection of various assorted works; there was no overarching story arc, but there was a clear theme throughout. The description on the back of the poetry book describes this book of poetry as a glimpse into his “way of thinking in images” (Gustafsson). This book of poetry was published only six years before his death, though he went on to write 3 prehumously, two published before his death and one in the month after his death. There’s a beautiful level of simplicity, and it evokes pure feelings of nostalgia. When I read the pre-existing translation by Susan Howard, I loved the imagery and emotion that it brought to the table. From what I could ascertain, there were no specific allusions or references that the poem was making and creating. At first, because of the pure specificity of the poem itself, I wondered if it described a scene that was present in a famous painting or something of the sort. After brief research and asking around, I found nothing. Instead, I wonder if perhaps this is a scene from Gustafsson’s life itself.
I knew that with my translation, I wanted to be able to lean into that emotion, evoke something deeper. Inherently, the poem is very simple; it is composed of 14 short left-aligned lines, and there are no fixed stanza breaks. The events described are also quite straightforward, but there is most definitely something quite appealing about that. West wind, open window, pages fluttering, varnished oar, a fly hardened in varnish, a clear night; these are the only key ideas and imagery used, yet the poem left such an impression on me. Perhaps it is the imagery of the fly, some sort of life and death. It dies in the varnish. It could also be interpreted as fragility but permanence. Perhaps, though it’s the subtle personification of the wind, or the book. The poem is mostly enjambed, but is in a combination, sometimes with punctuation. There doesn’t appear to be any specific choice that prompted what decisions made surrounding when the line stops. As much as I can tell, there is no formal pattern, no specific meter or rhyme.
One thing to note about the Swedish that I attempted to accent in some of my translations is that there are portions where the Swedish is awkward. Many phrases needed a comma or an article. The phrases still make sense, but some parts are awkward. All of these specifics that I talk about Swedish syntax are things I only know because of my amazing language mentor. To me, it doesn’t seem to be specific or prompted by anything in the content of the poem. I’ll give an example: the opening line “Västvinden går” is not standard Swedish (as explained by my mentor Eva Wissting). The grammar of Swedish works in a way where articles are added on to the end of the word, for example “hund” means dog in Swedish, were you to try and say “the dog” it would still be one word, the suffix “-en” would be added, making “hunden.” Like German, Swedish commonly squishes words together to mean one concept. We see that in “Västvinden,” or west wind. It may seem obvious, but “Väst” means west, while “Vind” means wind. The -en at the end of the word adds the article of “the.” But traditionally, that’s not how “west wind” would be translated. In normal spoken Swedish, it would be written as “Västenvinden,” or “The west the wind.” We can see that the meaning carries across the same, but Västenvinden is what is spoken because it flows better, so the purposeful inclusion of the more awkward and rare version is interesting, and I am curious about what prompted that decision. For the second translation, I tried to focus on the idea of reflection and thought. It seems that the main idea of the poem is about reflection and metaphor, and the English translations I’ve read don’t quite capture that. Much of the metaphors and imagery in the original poem are ways to talk about and create visualisations for reflection, both physical and mental reflections. For the third translation, I especially tried to keep the rhythm with the line breaks, the rhythmic integrity of it all. For example, I tried to keep long lines long and short lines short, breaking the rhymes at the same points. I also attempted to keep some of the contrast that I felt was present in the ideas of moment and the ideas of stillness. I also tried to stray as far away as I could from the literal translation. Make it more poetic.
Replicating Gustafsson’s calculated awkwardness proved tricky to carry out throughout the entire poem, not just specific lines. English lacks a direct equivalent to Swedish article suffixes, so I experimented with slightly off-kilter phrasing and selective punctuation to mirror the original’s stop-start rhythm without sounding simply incorrect. I hope that the choice of strange awkwardness came off as purposeful, though perhaps it’s okay if it didn’t, considering I am still unsure if the awkwardness in the original Swedish was purposeful. It was so interesting to read the poem in Swedish. It was immediately clear to me that the link between Swedish and the English language remains strong. Conceptually, I knew this: “Swedish, for English speakers, is generally considered a relatively easy language to learn”(Swedish Language Training). But, when looking at the poem itself, it became clear to me just how many similarities there are. For example, we see in the poem the phrase “kristallklara,” and, unsprinsingly, it means “crystal clear.” These cognates lead to me having a different type of relationship with the poem than others, whereas I believe others in my class had to translate from languages whose alphabets they had never seen before, I was able to sound out the words and understand some of their meaning. This made me think about the Swedish influence on English and the influence of English on Swedish. It reminded me of one of the quotes that I encountered in my translation process. “All languages end up giving to and taking from each other, laying the groundwork for a complex independence and interdependence within and between cultures” (Thiong’o 57). And I believe my work with translation pointed that out. This level of similarity made me feel more connected to my heritage language of Swedish, even though I don’t speak Swedish, all languages are part of this interconnected web.
My translation process was interesting, I came into the process of translating feeling very unconfident in myself. I didn’t know what I was doing. I think that poetry is an amazing and beautiful thing; it’s something I feel like I could never write well, and translating a poem is just another form of writing. Having that impression of a piece of art is something that I believe to be quite notable, it’s a feeling that is not successfully evoked very often. When I started the process of translating, I knew that translations have to be able to carry over many different factors of specific parts of the original work. I still believe that, but now I think that I am kinder to myself. Because we were forced to do multiple translations, I saw just how many possibilities there were and realized there’s no way that there is only one “correct” translation.
One of the interesting experiences I had while translating my poem was dealing with my limited understanding of Swedish. No longer do I have family members who speak the language. My maternal grandmother spoke very, very little Swedish, my mother next to none, though she was sent to a Swedish Pre-K and Kindergarten, and I none at all. Because of this lack of lineal language over the years, I have attempted to teach myself some Swedish, using various methods. I started with language learning apps, and then quickly moved on to online courses. I am nowhere near fluent in Swedish, but at this point, I can pronounce all of the words and have a very vague understanding of many things. It was lovely to work with her, and she made sure that I wasn’t afraid of the language, though I may have subconsciously gone into the translation process with an irrational level of fear. I feared that I would embarrass myself, or that this would somehow be the final straw to prove that I’m nothing more than white. It was very strange for me to read this poem in Swedish. In no way could I understand every word, but there were spots where the idea of what it was saying was on the tip of my tongue; it was a very weird, almost foggy, experience. Through my translation efforts, I put time into trying to replicate and factor in some of my feelings as a learner of the language, reading the poem in Swedish for the first time. There were specific words that I purposely never looked up the translation of, and used my own learned experience to try and procure some of the synonyms. It was wonderful combining my very limited Swedish experience with the expansive knowledge of Eva Wissting, my lovely translation mentor. She helped greatly with the translation process itself, but she also talked with me at length about her experience growing up in Sweden. I continue to realize how much culture and enrichment I continue to miss because of my loss of the language, I think that Pumza Fihlani phrases it beautifully.“Language is about more than simply an idea to communicate with one another, it is also tied in with culture and a way of life for a community”(Fihlani). Because of that loss of language, I believe that I have also experienced this loss of culture, something I am increasingly upset about.
Doing my interview with my father was a very interesting experience for me. I think many people talked in class about how these conversations were not the types of conversations that they often had with their relatives. For this type of thing, it’s pretty common for me to have this kind of sit-down, thought-provoking conversation with those in my family. The major difference was that instead of talking with my father about larger family stories, I talked with him about some of the specifics of his life. It was especially interesting to hear about what his life was like when he traveled to Italy. That kind of traveling and getting to know those in our family who still hadn’t left their original homes is something that I think I will never get to do. It also makes me sad that I’m not learning a heritage language in school. I know that practical Spanish will be useful, but I lack and yearn for the connection that I feel knowing and understanding a heritage language grants you. I learned much more about the Quebecois side of my family, a part of my family that I don’t feel particularly connected to. I don’t know any family member who is Quebecois, there’s no person who speaks it anymore, and there aren’t any parts of the culture that I have noticed to have been carried over. Mostly, I learned about my relatives who still live in Italy; my family isn’t in contact with them at all. It was amazing to learn that my father had spent so much time with them and learned so much from them.
In my erasure poem, I wanted to talk about how I don't really have very much of a relationship with my Heritage languages, and my heritage cultures in general. I wanted to make it clear that the convention of whiteness has heavily settled on my life, and I no longer feel like I can fully identify with any of the places or cultures that I come from. It's very important and upsetting to me. I wanted to highlight it in my poem. I also wanted to talk about how I feel like the resiliency of my heritage countries and languages was not supported by the people who spoke, and they were made to withstand the colonial powers. I think especially of how my Irish ancestors tried to assimilate with the people who had already been considered as Americans, and in doing so, they fell into the systems of oppression and harm, becoming integrated into white supremacy. Also, I wanted to highlight how I feel like I have many different sub-genres of dialects that I use on a day-to-day basis. I think the newer and younger generations, especially, have entire dialects that are only used in very specific situations. This idea is becoming even more prominent as the internet is taking hold and creating new and unseen vocabulary. My skill of code switching is something that I feel I use very often. In my poem, I wanted to highlight how my identity in my whiteness presents through my lack of “culture”.
Works Cited
Gustafsson, Lars. “Om Begagnandet Av Elden: Dikter.” Goodreads, Atlantis, 2010, www.goodreads.com/book/show/12691705-om-begagnandet-av-elden. Accessed 1 June 2025.
Japan House Los Angeles. “The Space in Between.” JAPAN HOUSE (Los Angeles), 21 Apr. 2020, www.japanhousela.com/articles/a-perspective-on-the-japanese-concept-of-ma/. Accessed 1 June 2025.
Poetry International. “Lars Gustafsson.” Poetryinternational.com, 2025, www.poetryinternational.com/en/poets-poems/poets/poet/102-24917_Gustafsson. Accessed 29 May 2025.
Pumza Fihlani. “Trying to Save South Africa’s First Language.” BBC News, 29 Aug. 2017, www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-39935150. Accessed 1 June 2025.
Thiong’o, Ngũgĩ wa . The Language of Languages. Seagull Books, 2023, p. 57.
www.swedishlanguagetraining.co.uk. “SWEDISH COURSES LONDON - Learn Swedish in London with SWEDISH LANGUAGE TRAINING.” Swedishlanguagetraining.co.uk, 2025, www.swedishlanguagetraining.co.uk/scale.html. Accessed 1 June 2025.