NORWEGIAN POETRY, PART 2

Olav H. Hauge

Poppy

What elf was it
that came to visit you tonight?
red silken clothing
thrown on the ground.
Are they his or yours
these black eyes?

On the poet:

Olav H. Hauge was born in Ulvik, Hardanger in 1908. He died in 1994, hailed as one of the greatest Norwegian poets ever. In his life, he spent a considerable amount of time and effort running a small farm in Hardanger. In return, his orchards gave him the financial freedom to work on his writings. He was not as preoccupied by Zen and Haiku poetry as many others at the time. Still he was deeply respectful towards these oriental traditions that had such an a astonishingly strong impact on the western world. Cf also his poem to the classic Chinese poet T'ao Ch'ien.

Hauge was a a many-talented writer. He was familiar with a wide variety of poetic styles and techniques. On one occasion, the "Edda" verses may shine through. Then suddenly, on the next page, he picks up the pattern from Ezra Pound's poetry. He is free, he is bold, he is experimental. Something you cannot be if you don't master the tools of the trade. Hauge did. And he used them.

There is a development in his work. He moves from the abstract to the concrete, even so, keeping the perspective of both. The same duplicity is present in the outlook, the scope, the themes. They can be narrow, close-ups, shifting in perspective to become wide, broad, inclusive. In one setting he is the poor, skinny Norwegian farmer; the next he is a poetic analyst, assessing the cultural and political situation of Europe in precise terms. Though without giving up his tools of the trade and the battlefield of poetry, where they are used.

With his ability to combine his simple wisdom of life with complicated intellectual wonder, his national confidence with his European consciousness, his bewilderment with clarity, it can safely be said that Hauge was the greatest Norwegian poet ever to emerge on the post-war scene of poetic verse and cultural strife.

Company

Best of all you like
talking to the wind,
have him
as your companion.
Or trees, homely
secure,
wise trees.
But to keep company
with me?
A good thing
you are used
to ghosts.



Poems: Olav H. Hauge
Trans: Arctic Fox
Text: Arctic Fox