Tsead Bruinja

Tsead Bruinja is a poet living in Amsterdam. He made his debut in 2000 with the Frisian-language collection entitled De wizers yn it read (The meters in the red). Bruinja’s debut in the Dutch language, Dat het zo hoorde (The way it should sound), was published in 2003, and was nominated for the Jo Peters Poetry Prize the following year. Tsead compiles anthologies, writes critical reviews, teaches creative writing, hosts literary events and performs in the Netherlands and abroad. Hans Groenewegen writes, “Even on paper his poems remain effortlessly powerful. He does not adhere to one single form. There are long prose poems and short lyrical songs. His technique of dovetailing sentences by omitting punctuation thus realises a consistently different effect. Bruinja explores just how far he can go with associative leaps and schisms, without allowing the coherence to fail.”


Photo: Geert de Jong (Cheeseworks)


Five O’Clock Verses »

Reading: Tara Bergin, Tsead Bruinja

Sat 10 March | 17:00 - 18:00 | £6.50/£4.50 | Parliament Hall, South Street

Breakfast at the Poetry Café: Translation »

Poets and translators discuss the pleasure, potential and problems of translation

Sun 11 March | 10:00 - 11:00 | £4.75/£3.75 | The Byre Theatre, Abbey Street, Studio Theatre

Migraasje »

One Frisian poem in multiple versions of Scots and Shetlandic from the Migraasje Frisian/Scots translation project

Thu 8 March - Sun 11 March | 10:00 - 22:00 | FREE | The Byre Theatre, Abbey Street, Level 1 & 2 Foyers

Translation Showcase »

Listen to new poetry in different languages as part of this year's language focus Going Dutch

Sun 11 March | 13:00 - 14:00 | £4.50/£3.50 | The Town Hall, Queens Gardens, Council Chamber


Grass that’s already laughing

each word I lay down before you
on the ground and at your feet
is a word too many

resting on the cold grass 
fresh-mown dew-wet
it lies there a day

waiting now for the sun
and hand over mouth
hand hiding the joke

waiting for how

fresh-mown grass 

looks at me
sits up
                     laughs laughs laughs

each word
      of truth laughs
       in delight

like a bed that hasn’t yet
been made

mown and smooth

fresh mown and glad
the grass laughs       hand
               over mouth

and each word I later apparently gently 
lay down before you on the new grass at your precious feet 
is a word too many that laughs and will laugh

Tsead Bruinja, tr. David Colmer