Category: Translation

THE PIER by Judita Vaičiūnaitė trans. Rimas Uzgiris

Your torn white shirt lies drying on the anchor.In the hush of my cheek I feel your gypsy hair, while huskyvoices echo across the water and through night’s rusting gear.Palms timidly touch the still aching…
TWO POEMS by Tomas Venclova trans. Rimas Uzgiris

Variation on the Theme of Awakening What echoes in the dark? Is it the wind of Junein the gardens by the lake? If so, the two of usare in the summer house up high, still young,having fallen asleep just before dawn. A muffled engine? Then we’re in that dive by the harbor, in a country where we’d…
TWO POEMS by Stefano d’Arrigo trans. Joe Gross

WHEN MEEK & THUNDEROUS When meek & thunderousspring makes its mooring& the heart wanes in wax,honeycomb homiliesflit from fin to wingof migrant fish & birdswearing whispers of your name;we imagine you, because it’s true,your destination, too, is mystery. OH IN ITALY A MEMORY Oh in Italy a memory of the womenwho turtledove-strut the windowsillssuddenly thresh…
RADISH FLOWER by Jang Seoknam, trans. Paulette Guerin and Claire Su-Yeon Park

Is a path one travels alone also a road? The radish flower has bloomedalong a hidden pathafter others have been planted. In the swamp, the radish flower has bloomedwithout a flag,without a flagpole,its heart coming alone, late spring arriving with only its body.Woo woo. Like a Molotov Cocktail,I bloomed late, among the radish flowers.Roads ahead and behind are…
TWO POEMS by Beatriz Pérez Pereda trans. Colleen Noland

“Untitled” Lucía nursed her anguish for thirty-six years (she didn’t know sadness is an animal that doesn’t understand flattery). There are no pictures of her: she was afraid of the eye in the camera lens, since it was said it could bewitch a soul and make feet clumsy on cliffs. Everything about her is a…
MOTHER TONGUE by Adil Tuniyaz trans. Munawwar Abdulla

We were born like goldon this sparkling brown land. It fell, ringingfrom the mouth of an Uyghur angel,its music sunk into our ears.Oh, mother tongue,we became wanderers,and have moved far from your horizons. Opium poppiesbring the scent of the seas,thoughts kept moist for a while. I have left the radio on.It speaksin the wind. Cool…
I WILL REMEMBER by Rahile Kamal trans. Munawwar Abdulla

Today I did not comb my hairI didn’t even look in the mirrorMy kitchen greeted me icilyThe walls eyed each other, but didn’t look at meI wasn’t worth it to those four wallsIt’s hilarious that my cat was scared of meIs my appearance uglier than a catIs it so important to dress upHow did I…
A FLOWER THAT REFUSES TO BE POETRY by Kim Hyesoon trans. Cindy Juyoung Ok

Anything too cold does not become poetry Anything too hot is not poetrySoaking your feet in boiling water does not bring out poetry Lying on the ice with eyes wide open does not bring out poetry That day no one wrote poetryThey just made a call Secretly picked up the receiver Blew and sent off poetry—Did they wear new clothes? —No, just took off their old…
TWO POEMS by Abdourahman Waberi trans. Nancy Naomi Carlson

Sahel! Sa(y) Hel(lo) Mother earth Earth mother We have fallen to earth The man from Galilee keeps mum A surge in perils, tsunamis The gods are seeing red The Sahel rises in you, in me The Red Sea boils in you, in me Nunavut is melting in you, in me No taller than a pygmy,…
THREE POEMS by Nadja Küchenmeister trans. Aimee Chor

at the base no one quite knew how late it waswhen it was too late: i came backa breeze took my hand, the courtyard recognized me, as always, without wakingi picked out the old names on the name platesbein, puhahn, henke, brumm, i let them dry no clothespins on the clotheslinewhere there was a puddle,…
INVITATION TO END by Faris Kuseyri trans. Patrick Sykes

A woman puts an orange in her husband’s pocketand her longing I saw they’re opening unmarked graves with warrantsand silence’s strength I saw truth bound, the papers lieand hate in the words I saw grace in the bazaar, conscience in exileand the feigned surprise I saw driven again to my pencil’s mercyand the invitation to…
from YOU by Chantal Neveu trans. Erín Moure

first his breathing then his pupils I watch his mouth its furrows its swells slight circle of his irises the black hole a tube he sees me impulsion an implicit programmatics ascension the facades the borough remanence of Rio a yard a garden the staircase winding its gradations compelling the maples alongside the false acacias…