This morning the ocean has again tossed man-sized
black boulders up onto the shelves of rock along the shore.
The breakers crash onto the beach,
shred across the strand,
sweep shells and stones gnashing against the black cliffs
black boulders up onto the shelves of rock along the shore.
The breakers crash onto the beach,
shred across the strand,
sweep shells and stones gnashing against the black cliffs
as tangled masses and wrack flail about
and resist being dragged back to sea, stretch out to reach deeper
into the shallows and everything woven into the surf,
days and waves,
the ebb and flow of time.
and resist being dragged back to sea, stretch out to reach deeper
into the shallows and everything woven into the surf,
days and waves,
the ebb and flow of time.
(Translated from the Faroese by Randi Ward)
*
Jane Bennett says that poems can help us
get to know the life that resides in things
and reveal more of the vibrancy hidden in them—
can show us even more of the strands
of interconnection that bind us to matter.
get to know the life that resides in things
and reveal more of the vibrancy hidden in them—
can show us even more of the strands
of interconnection that bind us to matter.
The withered grass has cloned itself,
right outside my window
black starlings sing for one another;
their extinct ancestors, the dinosaurs, were the only others
fully able to understand their song.
black starlings sing for one another;
their extinct ancestors, the dinosaurs, were the only others
fully able to understand their song.
(Translated from the Faroese by Randi Ward)
*
We always thought about them,
the silvery-green sticklebacks
we dreamt about catching
and taking home with us.
They lived for weeks in muddy washtubs
till entire schools died of starvation.
The stickleback, our tiniest species of fish
the silvery-green sticklebacks
we dreamt about catching
and taking home with us.
They lived for weeks in muddy washtubs
till entire schools died of starvation.
The stickleback, our tiniest species of fish
and the hardiest among the fish
with those characteristic spikes on their backs;
it makes little difference to sticklebacks that the waves
wash them back and forth between the sea and intertidal pools.
The natural history of the stickleback
is like the obscure history
with those characteristic spikes on their backs;
it makes little difference to sticklebacks that the waves
wash them back and forth between the sea and intertidal pools.
The natural history of the stickleback
is like the obscure history
of the humans
who live in the rain and darkness
of this land
while the third winter storm this week
rages on.
who live in the rain and darkness
of this land
while the third winter storm this week
rages on.
(Translated from the Faroese by Randi Ward)
Author’s Bionote:
*Kim Simonsen (1970) is a Faroese writer and scholar whose work moves between
literature, philosophy, and ecology. He holds a Ph.D. from Denmark and has been
affiliated with institutions including the University of Amsterdam, the
University of Bergen, Oxford University, Stanford University, and Columbia
University. His writing engages with ecocriticism, non-anthropocentric
perspectives, and speculative realism, often exploring the entanglements of
nature, memory, language, and place. He has received several literary awards,
including the Faroese Literature Prize and the Atlantic Airways Cultural Award
(2025), and was nominated for the Nordic Council Literature Prize in 2024. His
books have been translated into six languages and published internationally,
including in Italy, Hungary, Denmark, Estonia, North Macedonia, and the United
States, with Chinese rights recently acquired. His work has appeared in a range
of American journals and anthologies, such as Best Literary Translations 2025,
and has been featured by “Asymptote” and “Words Without Borders”.