SUOMEKSI | SVENSKA | ENGLISH | FRANÇAIS | DEUTSCH | ESPAÑOL | ITALIANO

JUHANI AHVENJÄRVI

CLAES ANDERSSON

EVA-STINA BYGGMÄSTAR

TOMAS MIKAEL BÄCK

AGNETA ENCKELL

MARTIN ENCKELL

TUA FORSSTRÖM

PENTTI HOLAPPA

JOUNI INKALA

RIINA KATAJAVUORI

JYRKI KIISKINEN

TOMI KONTIO

JUKKA KOSKELAINEN

LEEVI LEHTO

HEIDI LIEHU

RAKEL LIEHU

LAURI OTONKOSKI

MARKKU PAASONEN

ANNUKKA PEURA

MIRKKA REKOLA

HENRIKA RINGBOM

PENTTI SAARITSA

HELENA SINERVO

EIRA STENBERG

ANNI SUMARI

ILPO TIIHONEN

SIRKKA TURKKA

MERJA VIROLAINEN

KJELL WESTÖ (ANDERS HED)

JUHANI AHVENJÄRVI (b. 1965) is poet living in Tampere. He has worked as teacher of creative writing in the University of Tampere and other places. He made his debut in 1992 in the anthology Ryhmä 92 (Group 92, edited by Jyrki Kiiskinen and Kari Levola). Since that he has published three collections of poems, the latest of which, Yhä kiihtyvä tauko, came out in 2005.
ABSURD BLACK HUMOUR
 

I sit in a movie theater.
On either side of me the benches are piled full
of whale meat and its stench makes me nauseous.
I get up and wait for the meat to make a place for me,
But nothing happens.  Nor can I hear
the crumple of candy papers, shouts telling
me to put my head down:  the seats have been sold out
to the gray, immobile flesh.  I start to whistle and to clap
my hands together.  I cry and I laugh just to bear witness
to my being alive.  I get it:  in the midst of all this insensibility
even disgusting things can mean
a human has found his own place


The disappearance of memory rese...

There is no hope

The disappearance of memory rese...

A dark kitchen...

I used to feel sorry for superma...

Hospital coffee is really good

Legacy

Driving in the countryside awake...

I sit in a movie theater

Around every corner

Tivoli Gardens, Copenhagen, 1914

The chairs are crooked

In the midst of sunflowers

Incessant hapiness cannot be bor...

A helicopter lands in the snowy...

Still life

Call a screw in for interrogatio...

When I was a pheasant

Among the suits of armour stands...

We argue about playing the cello

Don't you know me any more?

Once hung on the wall /clocks...

Children fear that their

At the junction between the railway

A lined dream


 
From Hölkkä (Jog-trot), 1992. 
Translation by Kathleen Osgood Dana.