motivation / stories / migration / site
Excerpt from my great grandfather,
Hans Lynge’s, poem from 1933, Kipilerneq.
My Greenlandic heritage has made for
my interest and acknowledgement of what I call
the North Atlantic longing.
It is quite distinct, a nostalgia towards the homeland
quite outspoken in comparison to
how I experience my own and others’ homesickness.
KIPILERNEQ / LÆNGSEL / LONGING
Ila artorpara naalliunneq nipaatsoq
Isigernanni allat malunnaallisaartoq
Misiginnitoqanngilaq naami uannut
Ajapinngilaq aamma ikinngut tuinnut
Jeg prøver at lade som ingenting.
Med følelsernes blødende sår i mig
går jeg i smug blandt andre.
Ingen af dem lægger en hånd
på min skulder
som en medfølende ven
for at trøste mig.
I try to pretend like nothing is wrong.
With my feeling’s bleeding wounds inside me
I walk hidden amongst others.
No one puts a hand
on my shoulder
as a compassionate friend
to comfort me.