Milda Klampe is a member of the Latvian Writers’ Union, a trained theologian, and the literary editor of the new Bible translation. As a connoisseur of ancient and modern languages, in her second collection of poems she continues the stylistics that have been cultivated in Latvian literature by Pastor Jānis Steiks and the Bible translator and verse translator Uldis Bērziņš: coinages, wordplay, paradoxes. But this is not simple play – at the foundation of it all is the Rock, the Word of God. The collection brings together both spiritual and secular poems, yet it seems that there are no dull ones here. /Jānis Rokpelnis/ At the presentation of the book “Visatnē” on 22 December, the LNO cellist Ivars Bezprozvanovs will play. The poet and reviewer Jānis Rokpelnis and the book’s illustrator Guntis Cukurs will share their impressions. What is significant, Milda Klampe is also a member of the Association of Latvian Lutheran Women Theologians and the proofreader of articles for the website www.sieviesuordinacija.lv. The ALLWT warmly congratulates Milda on her success! We invite you to become acquainted with a few of Milda Klampe’s poems that will be available in the new book:
| * * * Through the Silent nightand the sinews of the oaksby the stone blockI come home.There Jesuscelebrates the Last Supperwith the first and with the last.There shepherds together with angelsand the departed with those who go on,father, mother and the others.Through the Silent nightwe walk this life,through the Feastin Heaven we laugh. | * * * Wholly free from freedom,wholly untied, I live from Life,wholly unpoured. Wholly low from lowliness,wholly down to earth,I journey from on High,wholly marked. Wholly I from Being –wholly fulfilled,I Am from the Divine,wholly warmed through. |
| THE END OF HEAVEN Like dust we whirl up,like earth – we whirl away.One and all run along with the earth,no matter – it does not help.For half a lifetime I sit on the rock,until the world runs, rings within me.And when it whirls away within me,You blow the Wind into it. But the locusts eat Egypt bare,at the gates the old folk wither.Like an empty thing the slaveholder slumps,hey, my people, he holds you no more!The Red Sea to all sides,we steal away quietly, hushed,without a miracle it is dry, for all drink from the bitter cup.Each one has his own land – the Promised one,only not that – the Salted one. Oh, arise, mother Deborah,it is time, that hour, the hora!It is nothing that the field is empty.Through you He will call us Home.It is nothing that you are broken bread.That is no longer your worry.It is nothing that you are poured-out wine,that only the Nile is full.It is nothing that nothing is mine any more,for through, over and within – one Shepherd,one bread, one wine and feast,for those scattered into the earth – the end of Heaven. | ON THE WAY A sand road into the heavens.I settle in warmly for winter.A sand road into the heavens.I tie myself to the fence rail.A sand road into the heavens.From Jūrmalciems to Jerusalem –a sand road into the heavens –to the place that You ordain for me.A sand road into the heavens.In the Jordan I am alone.A sand road into the heavens.In Bethel we are Two.A sand road into the heavens.In Zion we are all.A lifelong road into the heavens.One by one – it will carry us away.Without footprints.Wholly.The road.You. |
ALLWT