Doris Kareva, born in Tallinn in 1958, is a highly regarded poet. She currently works with UNESCO in Estonia. She visited Dublin as ILE's guest in April 2004. Her translations of Irish female poets were published by Verb in December 2005.

Background

The announcement of the Irish Literature Exchange with its invitation to translate Irish literature was a most exciting challenge.

I believe that Irish literature is much better known in Estonia than vice versa - however, there are wide areas still to be introduced. Since poetry is the genre closest to me, I decided that translating a selection of Irish poetry would be something I might be qualified for - as well as most enjoy doing. But I was not sure about the authors. I thought I knew a fair number of them, however, arriving in Dublin, at the National Library, I discovered a lot more – so many unexplored areas!

Reading Irish poetry

I sat and read, for hours and days and weeks. And realizing that my time and capacities were limited, I had to choose a format for my original idea. So I ended up with a selection of seven Irish woman poets I really admired. There could have been more, but I decided to give each voice more space for resonance. The poets into whose thought-frame and emotions I believed I might be able to enter – Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill, Medbh McGuckian, Eiléan Ni Chuilleanáin, Mary O'Malley, Paula Meehan, Eavan Boland, Vona Groarke – were very different. What they had in common was that what they were saying had not been said in Estonian literature yet: it was a fresh message, opening up new ways of thinking. I did not choose woman poets for any special reason; those seven voices just seemed to blend so beautifully, engaged in intimate dialogue, creating an impressive polyphony. Compiling this book was like writing a concert for seven instruments.

My stay in Dublin was most inspiring, full of kind support and unexpected challenges. Since my laptop broke down, I returned to Tallinn with numerous scribbles, giving myself and the editors a hard time to sort out from which edition they had been taken, deciphering my own handwriting and regretting I did not have all the original poems to hand any more.

With Nuala, I also stumbled on a special problem, since some of her poems had been translated into English by more than one poet. In some cases I could not decide, which I liked best, because different versions seemed to be equally fascinating. So I had to create my own version, oscillating between texts and using what Estonian had to offer. And Medbh, with a linguistic universe of her own, made me most hesitant and humble. I believe that the best outcome is always born from close cooperation between the author and translator. So I was very grateful for the opportunity to discuss some texts with Eiléan.

Irish poetry seems very rich with allusions to mythology, history, folklore – and without relevant knowledge it is easy to miss some dimensions.

Dublin city

When I think of Dublin, my first association is with books. The National Library with its impressive architecture stands for an archetype, a temple of wisdom, the Writers' Museum with all the different voices. The bookstores where I spent so many hours – and Trinity book sale that struck me almost like a theatrical performance. How easy to lose one's temperance there!

But I also enjoyed the parks with early narcissi and fine statues, the picturesque suburbs, good concerts, heartful encounters and creative discussions full of Irish wit.

Strong links

I feel very grateful for this unforgettable and valuable experience – and also happy that the book was well received by Estonian readers. There were several literary evenings in Tallinn and Tartu - in Tallinn with Nuala and Medbh reading -, two long radio programs, even a positive review in the literary journal "Looming" (Creation) that is usually fully dedicated to Estonian literature. Hopefully Irish literature is more and more unfolding its treasures for Estonian reader – and maybe also the other way round. Like the statue of Oscar Wilde and Eduard Vilde, an Irish and an Estonian writer sitting on the same stone bench in front of Wilde's pub in Tartu –looking like they have something to say to each other.