A short history of vodka

I don't remember the name of the bar, at the end
Of the Metal Workers' Hall of Culture in Chiliabinsk.
I remember only the girl whom every fifteen minutes
Came from behind the counter to collect the glasses into
A red plastic bowl.
She skipped from table to table, her high shoes,
Clicking out the smell of heaps of loot,
A fur hat spread war snow on her forehead
And fumes of alcohol blurred her face furled like a white flag.
There is, said the man beside me, no woman who isn't beautiful
There is too little vodka. Ronny Someck Translated from Hebrew to English by Vivian Eden

In this poem, the Israeli poet Ronny Someck is really not relating the history of vodka but his impression of a female bartender who he had met. The bartender comes behind the counter to collect the glasses into a red plastic bowl and to fill the glasses again with liquor. Her face has been blurred by the fumes of alcohol and her face looks like 'a white flag' yet a man in the bar appreciated the girl "No woman who isn't beautiful". The language used is simple and the poem is woven around an impression of a female bartender. Yet, the poet has converted that short encounter into a universal experience.

The purpose of carrying Ronny's work from time to time in this column is to depict the excellent craftsmanship by a mature poet and the sheer beauty of the translation. -Indeewara Thilakarathne

Baby

Feels and move with full of hope
Growth of life nine in months
Baby's birth is joy of life
Hearts are filled with warmth of love

Petal soft cheeks and small little lips
Open all day for the taste of milk
Hands and feet so smooth in fold
Twinkle as stars the eyes in blue

Giggles murmurs shouts and screams
Listens and speaks a word or two
Crawls and walks step by step
Hand in hand with dad and mom

Plays with toys swings see-saw
Books, pencils to write and draw
Teaching and learning come next
Baby as a child is in the classroom Lakshmi Peiris

In this poem, the poet describes the tender nature of a baby until it grows up to be a child. The poem ends with the grown up baby in the classroom. The poet uses a down-to-earth language with an equally simple metre. - Indeewara Thilakarathne

Change

Fifty pairs of earrings,
And bangles of all colours,
That spin a web of magical charm
Of those once joyous hours...
Lip-gloss,eye-liner,mascara,perfume,
The dainty shoes and party frocks
Still smell of dancing tunes.
I glance at the mirror to see a face
With washed out charm and loss of a race,
Clad in a saree, pimple faced,
Teaching to mould a generation great!
But in the night,
Cinderella flies:
Dancing her way
Back to those times.
Yet, the clock chimes-
It's midnight! High time!
I kick off my dreams
And as a teacher, I rise! G. C. Priyangwada Perera

The poet describes a party and an artificial change that has been brought about by the 'earrings', and 'bangles'. However, returning from the party, the narrator washes off perfumes from her face 'washed out charm and loss of a race' only to reveal in the mirror, the pimpled face. The narrator rises from her dream once again 'as a teacher' to 'mould a generation'. The language used in the poem is simple and the message is amply conveyed. Perhaps, what's important is not a charmed face but a teacher who moulds a generation. - Indeewara Thilakarathne