Tag: Translated

A Planet for Rent

September 2014

Science fiction from Cuba.

Tongariro

June 2014

We are resting from our courage.

Last Words from Montmartre

April 2014

The Taiwanese novelist's story of a passionate relationship between two young women.

Figuraciones

February 2014

I gave strict instructions for two specialists to watch over you twenty-four hours a day.

from A Forest of a Thousand Daemons: A Hunter’s Saga

September 2013

Without a doubt, my friend has told you the tale about my parents, and about the various things that I experienced when I visited the Forest of Irunmale.

Four Walls

March 2013

...you can sleep without stretching your legs; / you can live never lifting your head.

Sonallah Ibrahim: Notes from Prison

March 2013

An excerpt from the Egyptian novelist's prison journal, translated by Robyn Creswell.

at the side (côtés) of poetry

November 2012

I have written this poem on the theme “To the post-3.11 world, as I see it,” but this is just the prelude.

Marilyn Hacker: The Paradox of Translation

October 2012

The prolific translator talks with Guernica’s poetry editor about her work ethic, contemporary Morocco, and what connects poetry with journalism.

The Last Hour of the Bengal Tiger

October 2012

What was I going to do when I saw her? It was a question I had asked myself a thousand times. Slap her? Scream insults? Demand she give my husband back?

Summer by the Ravine

September 2012

I wish there were simpler words for this—to reach a point zero or the limit, to write: "It was so hard without you."

One Night

August 2012

But the girl is still asleep. Perhaps, thinks the prince, he kissed her too lightly. He stoops down again and kisses her a second time, this time a touch more vigorously.

Caiçara Song

July 2012

My fishhook snagged two catfish / three squid on the zangareio

Against the Line

June 2012

The literary legend on his new book of poetry, about a personal evolution, and those he's published; MFA's and prizes; and the ongoing river of language.

Expectations

May 2012

I imagine what Janneke and Karin would say if they saw us together: Oh, she’s lost it now.

Voice

May 2012

It was the sound of an historical wrist, of resistance

Lovers

April 2012

Their bodies converse. They forget that very soon one of them will be burned alive on Place de Grève.

[Those green Huldra]

April 2012

Soon / she’ll let the rodent go / and give you the best thing she knows

Astri von Arbin Ahlander: Interview with Sam Lipsyte

April 2012

Sam Lipsyte on being an American writer in translation and the venerable tradition of masturbation in literature.

Things (Part Two)

April 2012

Never again will men be treated as things.

Mithraic and Poor Summer in Franconia

March 2012

With his sea-goat ready / for departure the mythologist / beholds once again / the shattered world egg

Things (Part One)

March 2012

A member of the public complained that the settee was getting overheated. And he was right.

An Early Morning in Daylight-Saving Summer

March 2012

In a razor sharp buzzing they come to haul me / from my bat-infested nightmare-time—

Suddenly, a Knock on the Door

March 2012

“Tell me a story,” the bearded man sitting on my living-room sofa commands. The situation, I must admit, is anything but pleasant.

[Tomorrow morning I will take a shower]

February 2012

Tomorrow morning I will take a shower, / nothing else is certain but this.

Bamboo Grove and A Place Named for Deer

January 2012 Strum a song I can whistle to—

Behind The Rise of the Great Powers

January 2012

China’s imprisoned Nobel Peace Prize winner asks what a TV miniseries can teach us about the direction of the new China. From his new book of essays.

It’s Late, Europe and A Lesson in Observation

January 2012 do not worry so much, Madame, / here, it will never happen, / you will see, / never here.

Dog’s Walking Song

December 2011 It will be the night of sirens, of police searching / empty apartments for a starfish, / of the bird that wanted to be a girl.

From Until the Dawn’s Light

October 2011 “What attracts you to the Jews?” Blanca asked her.

Boulevard des Invalides

September 2011 You don't take out your horses / your madmen and whales / you don't tidy your seagulls / in the seagull drawer

Child

July 2011

death keeps its eyes open / and looks into my right pocket

Every Day

July 2011 War is no longer declared, / it is continued.

And tomorrow the sun will rise

July 2011 Say—die quietly—I’m a poet and poets / don’t speak the truth.

gut feeling

July 2011 unlike potatoes I do not want / to be stirred.

Other Cultures, Other Realms

July 2011 For his guest-edited issue, Ilya Kaminsky chooses nine far-flung writers who attempt to answer the question, “What are poets to do in this moment of uncertainty?”

Many Things Happened

July 2011 irrelevant things which we’d / never do unless / they were written down.

Outside the Gates of Troy

June 2011

They sit down in an orderly, patient manner, packed together in the belly of the beast. The smell of varnish lingers on inside and intoxicates them all.

Untitled

June 2011 I have seen a woman transform into a garden and a garden become increasingly more of a woman.

Ten Micro Stories

May 2011 “Every man is limited to a certain number of words in his lifetime... Some of these words might also be words that you whisper in a foreign language that you don’t even know, in a dream, for example”: ten micro-fiction pieces.

At the end of the tube

May 2011

They are the same worms / four billion years old, but fatter.

I Won’t Let You Go!

April 2011 It’s the oldest cry resounding from earth to heaven / The solemnest lament, “I won’t let you go!”

The In-Between Woman

April 2011 It is nowhere near impossible for somebody who loves her husband to also love her co-wife.

[Like a nation’s bulk that has started]

February 2011 Like a nation’s bulk that has started / to make the earth sweat, / the dust-encrusted armada / of the herd

from Prose from the Observatory

January 2011

[T]he observatories beneath the moon of Jaipur and Delhi, the black ribbon of migrations, the eels in the middle of the street or in the stalls in a theatre...

[Clothes come to the party]

December 2010

What are the recently depressed accused of?

[The Ministry of Hot Water]

October 2010

The Ministry of Hot Water / has posted an opening: Director. / Well, why not, we can take that on.

Untitled

September 2010

because I hate your every-now-and-then anthems, / because I hate the smell of your socks in the stone mihrabs.

The Wrong Blood

By Manuel de Lope, translated from the Spanish by John Cullen
September 2010
An excerpt from Manuel de Lope’s first novel to be translated into English.

Travel

By Bei Dao, translated from the Chinese by Clayton Eshleman and Lucas Klein
September 2010

Nobel Prize-nominee Bei Dao uses travel as a metaphor for life.

The Lucky One

By Robert Walser, translated from the German by Daniele Pantano
August 2010

...there / was always a lucky one, who carried with him / the mistakes of others, what a burden / it must have been that pushed him down, / but he was pleased by all this pushing.

New Girls and Room of Surprises

By Grzegorz Wróblewski translated from the Polish by Adam Zdrodowski
June 2010

Men suddenly become meek. / Damn, we all needed it badly.

The Diversity Test

April 2010

Why were there only 8 women on the Modern Library’s 100 Best Novels of the Twentieth Century? Why is only 3% of the literature Americans read in translation?

Mississipi

By Aimé Césaire translated from the French by A. James Arnold and Clayton Eshleman
April 2010

Too bad for you men who do not see who do not see anything

The other part of truth

By Tadeusz Dąbrowski translated from the Polish by Antonia Lloyd-Jones
February 2010
Around Friday heaven arrives; they no longer supply / hell (it stays on the shelf too long), but I’ve got / hell at home, as well as heaven and the saints.

The Book of Shapur

A novella excerpt by Alimorad Fadaienia, translated from the Farsi by Leigh Shulman
January 2010
You take a vacation, you take a plane, and now this. You are running away from knowing this information. This is how things are these days.

Homesick

By Eshkol Nevo, guest-edited by Assaf Gavron
January 2010

The Arab is so stunned, he doesn’t move. Just stands there with his certificate and his rusty key. Not breathing.

Two Poems

January 2010

To the country dug into our lives like a grave, / to the country etherized, and killed, / a sun rises from our paralyzed history / into our millennial sleep.

Albania

By Yang Li translated from the Chinese by Steve Bradbury
December 2009
Back in our day there wasn’t anyone who didn’t know Albania / who didn’t know it was the bright light of European Socialism / or that the other bright light was us.

the sentence

By Sébastien Smirou translated from the French by Andrew Zawacki
October 2009

we imagine rose tintedly because his hands are in his lady

Romania. A Post-history Hysteria

By Chris Tanasescu translated from the Romanian by David Baker and the author
June 2009
...fir on a barren rock-sharp wall, the kind / the shepherds around here talk and sing to / before felling when someone young and single dies.

The Bleating of Copper

By Amjad Nasser translated from the Arabic by Khaled Mattawa
June 2009
Night and horses— / is this what history is all about?

The Question

By Justo Arroyo translated by Seymour Menton
April 2009
The first thing you notice are his eyes.

Two Poems

By Rafael Acevedo translated from the Spanish by Ricardo Alberto Maldonado
April 2009
With these five bones, human bones, / Doctor Chanca makes me a cannibal / by arranging feathers from the hand / of another cannibal

Three Poems

By Novica Tadic translated from the Serbian by Charles Simic
February 2009
Poor us, we are all kings / when we gaze at the starry sky.

Earring

By Aleš Šteger translated from the Slovenian by Brian Henry
January 2009

The whole time he tells you what to do. / His voice is chocolate candy filled with hysteria. // He is a loving blackmailer. An owl blind in one eye.

Two Poems

By Umberto Saba translated from the Italian by George Hochfield and Leonard Nathan
January 2009
It’s as if for a man battered by the wind, / blinded by snow—all around him an arctic / inferno pummels the city— / a door opens along a wall.

The Trapdoor

By Sergio Ramírez Mercado, translated by David Unger
December 2008
Five rounds passed, without pain or glory. Nothing happened in the ring to excite the sparse crowd.

Two Poems

By Manoel de Barros, translated from the Portuguese by Idra Novey
September 2008

To enter the state of being a tree it’s necessary / to begin with a gecko’s amphibian torpor /

at three in the afternoon in the month of August.

Mutable and Immutable

By Maya Bejerano translated from the Hebrew by Tsipi Keller
July 2008
let me go don’t be a dog / my very dear cage / haven’t we agreed

Two Poems

By Gabrielle Althen translated from the French by Marilyn Hacker
June 2008
Space is full of mental rooms where we can go / Like a hunter unleashing his dogs, I freed my spirit into them

Two Poems

By Hamutal Bar-Yosef translated from the Hebrew by Rachel Tzvia Back
June 2008
I am a poisoned well, / I told the ram / as he flared his nostrils. / Everything in me is poisoned.

Two Poems

By Edip Cansever translated from the Turkish by Julia Clare Tillinghast and Richard Tillinghast
February 2008
No matter the time or place, I’ll always grow for the one who is the sea. / With one thin finger cut in half. / That is why I’m the oldest recipient of your on-again, off-again love.

Two Poems

By Ales Debeljak translated from the Slovenian by Andrew Zawacki and the author
February 2008
How it rises out of waves in the bay / and shudders like a gentle thrust / of the sea, which sooner forgives / than punishes, doomed as it is to feckless birth.

Untitled

By Pēters Brūveris translated from the Latvian by Inara Cedrins
January 2008
I am given ten cubic meters of darkness / every night I pace over them obediently

Three Poems

By Adonis translated from the Arabic by Adnan Haydar and Michael Beard
December 2007
In the name of his own history, / in a country mired in mud, / when hunger overtakes him / he eats his own forehead.

Why Can’t We

By Kim Hyesoon translated from the Korean by Don Mee Choi
December 2007
We make Buddha ride an elephant like the way a village boy rides on a man’s shoulder, and we let Buddha run and play, then make him cry, and we make him couple blissfully with a buttery woman and call it Tantra...

Love Tokens

By Tran Da Tu, translated from the Vietnamese by Linh Dinh
August 2007

I'll give you a roll of barbwire / A vine for this modern epoch / Climbing all over our souls / That's our love, take it, don't ask

Wholesale Romania

By Chris Tanasescu, translated from the Romanian by Ilya Kaminsky and Martin Woodside
May 2007

Yes, that’s right, maybe I’ve run out of / patience, we have certainly run out of cigarettes / and the later, as Cioran used to say // hold more fire than the Gospels in our blessed country.

Four New Translations of Paul Celan

By translated from the German by Ian Fairley
April 2007

I HEAR THE AXE HAS FLOWERED, / I hear the place can't be named

Four Erotic Poems

By Chinese poets translated by Tony Barnstone and Chou Ping
January 2007
Her tears drop on the mirror / and around the guttering lamp insects swirl.

Four Poems on War

By Chinese poets translated by Geoff Waters
January 2007
A few horses returned with torn flags we couldn’t make out. / I would have a ceremony for you, but what if you are alive?

Complaint / Za_alenie

By Andrzej Bursa translated from the Polish by Kevin Christianson and Halina Ablamowicz
November 2006
I don't know you personally, but I saw your photo in the paper / and I feel deeply offended

Three Haiku, by Tomas Tranströmer

By Tomas Tranströmer translated from the Swedish by Robert Bly
May 2006
Night—a twelve-wheeler / goes by making the dreams of / the inmates shiver

Sonnet

By Cecco Angiolieri translated from the Italian by Robert Bly
May 2006
If I were fire, I'd burn the world down;

High Noon

By Antonio Machado translated from the Spanish by George Kalogeris and Gláucia Rezende
March 2006
By this glass of wine so dark it brims / Like rising nightfall, with a heart whose deepest faith / Is insatiable thirst

Stone

By Nurit Zarhi translated from the Hebrew by Tsipi Keller
September 2005
This is sanity—when love comes—/to offer a bed, a chair,/sustain and raise it like a pet

Mirror on High

By Olga Orozco translated from the Spanish by Guillermo Castro and Ron Drummond
June 2005
perhaps that agate's circular gaze was your gaze, / which from water in the air unfolds itself

Anton Van Dyck

By Marcel Proust translated from the French by Richard Howard
May 2005
Under pines these riders halt beside a brook / calm like them, yet like them close to sobs

The Name of the Father

By Jorge Volpi, translated from the Spanish by Kristina Cordero
May 2005

Cowering behind an almost idiotic silence, I avoided looking into his eyes, gripped by the same fear that must have gripped Odysseus as he ran from the singular gaze of the Cyclops.

Why I Don’t Worry

By Ghalib translated from the Urdu by Robert Bly and Sunil Dutta
May 2005
The sorrows of the world are truly abundant; but wine is abundant too.

The Magic Box

By Anna Lidia Vega Serova, translated from the Spanish by David Unger
May 2005

Her parents were naked, one on top of the other. Their eyes were closed, their faces contorted; they were breathing loudly and moaning. She watched them for a few moments, terrified; then she walked quietly back to her cot and covered her face with the pillow.

Midwinter

By Tomas Tranströmer, translated from the Swedish by Robert Bly
May 2005

A blue glow / Streams out from my clothes. / Midwinter. / A clinking tambour made of ice. / I close my eyes. / Somewhere

The Emigrant’s Hand

By Manuel Rivas, translated from the Galician by Valerie Saint-Rossy
May 2005

You could look from one end to the other, but for me there was only Castro’s hand, it held me in a hypnotic grip.

Ghazal #61: The Fire of Love

By Farid ad-Din Attar translated from the Arabic by Robert Bly
May 2005
The sweetest thing in the soul is the fire / Of your love; still sweeter is the fire / Leaping out of the soul from your love

Ode to the Black Panther

By Pablo Neruda translated from the Spanish by David Unger
April 2005
It happened 31 years ago, / I can’t forget it, / in Singapore, the rain / falling / hot like blood / on the ancient white walls

Seven Poems

By Han Shan translated from the Chinese by Tony Barnstone
February 2005
Like bugs in a bowl / we all day circle, circle / unable to get out.

Said the Leader of the Free World

By Marjorie Agosín translated by Betty Jean Craige and Laura Rocha Nakazawa
January 2005
History may even forget that tonight / I determined who would live / And who would die

On Translating the Prince of Wits

January 2005 "Yes, I think we have to be faithful to the context," says the translator of the Quijote. "But it's very important to differentiate between fidelity and literalness."

From “Four Square Poems”

By Patrice Nganang translated by Cullen Goldblatt
January 2005
to look for a lifesaving buoy in the flood / the destruction of the last drop of man

Absinthe

By Salavador Novo translated by Rigoberto González
January 2005
But your eyelids hold such flowery perfume, / that they breed inside my mind the bastard’s doom

From “Mozart’s Third Brain”

By Göran Sonnevi translated by Rika Lesser
January 2005
in which city do I want to be? / I want to be in the face / between the realms

Two Stories

By Julián Ríos, translated from the Spanish by Edith Grossman
January 2005

Are your recollections really recent or do they reflect a remote past? You feel as if time is not time on the clock, and an aura of unreality surrounds you.

Paying Dues and Drinking Booze

By Tito Matamala, translated from the Spanish by Lisa Dillman
January 2005

So I hear you’re going around saying you sold your soul to the devil . . .

Vital Information

By Carlos Blanco Aguinaga, translated from the Spanish by Lisa Dillman
January 2005

Since it is very hot out at sea, sometimes someone comes down with a little fever.

Ions

By Germán Sierra, translated from the Spanish by Lisa Dillman
October 2004

We sleep in sleeping bags on the beach, so in order to get close to you I have to slip out of mine first, then slip you out of yours.

Thirty-Seventh of Tales of The Nameless

By Alimorad Fadaienia, translated from the Persian by Iraj Anvar with Paul Glass
October 2004

We went to a cafe I knew near the bookstore. I tried to please him by saying, they have excellent coffee here.