Maja Haderlap and Bei Dao - Workshop 22/08/22

Hello, everyone.

Maja Haderlap was born in Austria in 1961. She has won awards for writing in both Slovenian and German.

Bei Dao was born in China in 1949. He is an American citizen who lives in Hong Kong. He has been nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature several times.

Memory and reminders feature in the first poem. How can you write about memory or about being reminded of something?

The countryside and old age are themes in the second. But a sense of the past also creeps in. Write about any or all of these ideas.

The structure of the first poem is all lower case - think about removing case from your poem.

The structure of both texts is mostly without punctuation. Perhaps remove some punctuation you might usually use.

Six words to attempt to incorporate into your writing from Haderlap: fall, ferns, open, mockery, crash, remind.

Six words from Bei Dao: music, tide, far, tree, nets, years.

If you have a copy of The Exercise Book (Manhire, Duncum, Price & Wilkins), turn to page "#122: What Are They Thinking: a point of view exercise " for an additional challenge.

That's all. I hope you are inspired to write today.

---

what was
by Maja Haderlap

once a year
when bookmarks
fall out of my books
with memoranda like
counting ferns,
registry carnations,
nettle clips,
i go back to my village.

on open pages
stories yellow.
they have turned
to legends
and laid down their arms,
mockery, tumult,
the dance sweat
that dripped from the brows
of the dancers.

i put on my red smock,
put my hair
over my head like a bush,
wear dirty socks
and boots that would
fit a man.
i smell the pig fat
in the unventilated kitchens,
try out names
and their shadow stories
that once kicked free,
crash about
like floating wood.

i stop at the yard entrance.
here i laid a stone
with a furrow
encased in lime.
it was supposed to remind me
where i came from.

---

Pastoral
by Bei Dao
Translated by David Hinton

wolves of music weave their way at a run
hawthorns wheeze with clandestine laughter

turning a new leaf, tide's out
young ship-captains high up on balconies
look far away through telescopes

east and west
a single fruit cut into halves

beneath a tree grown from the pit I once spit out
I've hung nets to
trap birds, and waited how many years