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Beer-tasting and poetry on April 8th – A double bill – Parthian Baltic and the European Poetry Festival

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An evening of poetry and beer-tasting to celebrate the launch of Parthian Baltic, a series of books showcasing the best writing from Estonia, Lithuania, and Latvia.

Featuring readings from Madara Gruntmane, Eduards Aivars & Krišjānis Zeļģis (Latvia –  photos below), Eeva Park & Veronika Kivisilla (Estonia), Aušra Kaziliūnaitė, Marius Burokas & Giedrė Kazlauskaitė (Lithuania),  and translations and discussion from Jayde Will, Rimas Uzgiris, Richard O’Brien & Adam Cullen.

The Wheatsheaf, 25 Rathbone Place, London, W1T 1JB at 6 pm

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European Poetry Festival: Performance Literature & Sound Poetry

European poetry is going through a remarkable renaissance in avant-garde and innovative practise. A series of poets explore the possibilities of performance, aliveness, space, time and sound. This event is a unique opportunity to witness first-hand the possibilities of an old art in a new century. Sergejs Timofejevs, one of the founders of The Orbita Group is also performing.

 

IKLECTIK, Old Paradise Yard, 20 Carlisle Lane, London SE1 7LG


He had a face that was in love,

it was already time to admit that he
was in love. In his hands was
a long umbrella and from the windows
the priests were observing him. The little girl
was thinking about her doll, and when
mama took her by the hand, she paid him
no attention. Mama said:
“Should we buy some ham,” and
headed for the shop. He was running,
bouncing and spinning on his axis;
for this reason he kept losing his way.
He was in love, although not one
girl he knew came
to mind; he laughed. He knew
that the weather would be splendid, as long as
this was what he wanted. And even if
he didn’t care, for some time
it would still be the same. The long umbrella
he waved overhead and put
in the vestibule. The night was deep blue, the day was
green, but the lips of his beloved were red,
like a strawberry; he whistled and walked,
congratulating himself. Yes, his beloved
must be splendid; he wrote his friend
an entire letter about this and inserted it into a magnificent
envelope. His friend would be delighted and send
greetings: a postcard with a little violinist
on a lamp-lit street.

By Sergej Timofejev and translated by Anne Marie Jackson

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