Schirin Nowrousian: Vitreous Feud

(2 customer reviews)

Glass feud, the new volume of poetry by Schirin Nowrousian, is extraordinary in several respects: It is a volume that takes on the subject of fear and sadness, and sometimes quite directly, without beating around the bush, with all fragility and force, which is by no means requires courage. And at the same time it is a volume full of linguistic vitality and musicality through language: in addition to texts in German and English, Persian and Lithuanian sprinkles, there are lines in Portuguese and French, to which their German versions are always attached. There are also two poems, one in French, one in Spanish, which did not come from Schirin's pen, but from the pens of two fellow lyricists, and whose filigree translations the author has incorporated into the volume - like tender soul mates from a very short distance.

 

The author

 

lyric | 1st edition 2019 | softcover | 116 pages

14,80

Schirin Nowrousian: Vitreous Feud

Description

Glass feud is a volume that once again bears witness to the extraordinary talent of the author, to her uniquely polyphonic voice. In her writing, form and content determine one another, produce one another. Things behave there in a certain way as in all living things, where both types of growth and functions cannot be separated from one another, not even when they seem to be drifting apart (both vigorously and gently), which can certainly happen: their effectiveness is always unfolding like a body shooting up or a blossom that opens, even if they are blossoms that are immediately torn apart by the wind of the world when they open. And so numerous new language structures, language networks and growths arose for this volume, in which the simple and the lush, the light and the heavy, the light and the dark, the supple and the bulky, as well as what is expressed through them, come together. A work of (alleged!) transparency, which in reality is more like a 'milky' glass broken into parts, a wafer-thin, slightly crumpled paper on which literature stands and yet never penetrates it in its entirety is.