Scene Two: Hippolytus, Aricia, Ismene Hippolytus Madam, I felt, ere leaving here, That I should make your altered fortunes clear. My sire is dead. My fears divined, alas, By his long absence, what had come to pass. Death only, ending all his feats and frays, Could hide him from the world so many days. The…
After a talk with my would-be publisher I myself don't know who's the author of my book. (The state, the paper allocations, the moon's pull, or other circumstances?) It'll only be half an answer: The author of my book is the Polish language 1973/1975
Poplars, embankments, the Loire behind them. The upper Danube's not so broad, from river to river the light's so different. One doesn't need geography for feelings. Birds fly up the branches. Watch us. Feelings are vulnerable. Strange bodies rub together, our bodies. Someone plants a kiss between navel and shame. A doorknob turns on a…
trans. Arabic James Kenneson with Soad Sobhi and Essam Fatouh 9. At home and in the alley, you hear the gossip over and over. A neighbor asks my mother, "Oh, by the way, did you hear the strange news?" My mother begs her to go on. The woman says, "About Tawheeda, daughter of Um Ali…
trans. French Norman Shapiro 1. The Little Pup Little pup sat eyeing bone, One he used to call his own. Burly hound came swaggering up, Snatching bone from little pup. Sky watched hound dine on said victual: Didn't care one whit or tittle. Pup's still little, as before; Hound's still hungry, wants some more. 2….
This moment no longer exists although it isn't greed, or state power, or cowardly tyranny
trans. German Jay Boggis • One must read every important writer once, in order to reach the point of being able to read him at all. • At the moment that we form an ideal the thought arises in God's mind to create it. • The comic is the continual negation of nature. • In…
trans. Chinese Robin D.S. Yeates Born between 834 and 836, Wei Chuang lived through the bloody collapse of the T'ang dynasty, which had witnessed the first great flowering of the art of poetry in China. He lost almost all the verse he had composed in the first fifty years of his life when, on January…
trans. French Lisa Sapinkopf The fire haunted our days and consumed them, Each greyer dawn its blade wounded time. The wind knocked death on our bedroom roofs, The cold never ceased encircling our hearts. It was a beautiful summer, faded, cracking and dark, You loved the softness of the summer rain And you loved death,…
No products in the cart.