Translation
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“Out of Sorts” by Muzzafer Kale Translated from the Turkish by Ralph Hubbell
Photo by Giovanni Apruzzese
When you come across someone in one place after only ever seeing him in another place, you’ll likely have trouble remembering how you know him; but that’s not how this was!
He comes in and takes a seat four or five tables away. I doubt he notices me. He looks preoccupied. One can get a little disheveled sometimes, it’s inevitable; somehow you can’t pull yourself together, which then makes it hard to notice whatever is going on around you. Or maybe he hasn’t woken up yet. There’s a fog in his head and it hasn’t even begun to clear.
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“Sabbath” by Alfonsina Storni Translated from the Argentinian Spanish by Ulyses Razo
Art by Adelaide Snow
I rose early & walked barefoot
Through the halls. I stole to the gardens
And kissed the plants.
I soaked up the clean breath of the earth,
Thrown on the grass;
I bathed in the fountain that green achiras
Surround. Much later, wet with water,
I brushed my hair. I perfumed the hands
With scented serum of sampaguita. Squeamish,
Fine herons
Stole blonde shreds from my dress.
Then I put on my bugle suit, lighter
Than the very same gauze. -
Two Poems by Chloé Savoie-Bernard from “Royaume Scotch Tape” Translated from the Québécois French by April Yee
image curtesy of The Public Domain Review
weather forecast
saturday night all over again
girls smoked down to the filter
bloomed girls craving pollen
dropping petal by petal
girls will fall from windows
shower in villeray mile end hochelaga
pretty girls with conditioned hair
wafting clinique happy
discounted at the department store
bring your umbrellas
girls will rain to the ground
dust ash from their dresses
to get to their lovers’ homes
legs twisted from the fall
elbows knees
palms bloodied
gravel-
bedded wounds
they’ll get up anyway
and all those boys
will cover their injured limbs
in mickey mouse band aids
prévision météorologique
samedi soir une fois encore
des filles fumées jusqu’au filtre
des filles fleurs en manque de pollen
qui s’étiolent pétale après pétale
des filles tomberont des fenêtres
crachin dans villeray mile end hochelaga
de jolies filles aux cheveux hydratés
sentant le clinique happy
en solde chez la baie
sortez vos parapluies
elles s’écraseront lourdement au sol
épousseteront la cendre de leurs robes
pour remonter chez leurs amants
les jambes tordues par l’impact
les coudes les genoux
les paumes en sang
de la garnotte
plein leurs blessures
elles remonteront quand même
et les garçons qu’elles rejoignent
mettront sur leurs corps accidentés
des band aids mickey mouse
*
third date
looking at the ceiling of your room it’s time for confessions the post-coital chalice
you confess all your exes are screamers the rest of your phrase slipping a sigh I
want to take back the echo ask what kind of screams gah you reply crazy screams
i fling on my clothes won’t see you ever again definitely don’t walk me out that’s
too proper i’d rather take back everything i left behind slamming the door of your
flat repatriate my residues my shedded cells where you’ll sleep tonight and
tomorrow and the day after till you decide to dissolve me and wash from your
sheets the remaining tatters of my skin let them longlive me let them hug you
sweetly and shush don’t talk about girls like that let my sebum and scent sing you
to sleep and watch your slumber while exhaling in your ear that all the nutcases
the psychos the wack jobs that all the crazies are all my sisters
troisième date
on regarde le plafond de ta chambre c’est le moment des confessions I guess
calice de post-coït cave tu m’avoues qu toutes tes ex sont des crisses dans un
soupir sille le reste de ta phrase je veux récupérer l’echo te demande des crisse de
quoi han tu me réponds des crisse de folles je me rhabille rapidement ne te
reverrai jamais ne me reconduis surtout pas ça va être correct mais j’aurais préféré
reprendre tout ce que j’ai laissé de moi en fermant la porte de ton appartement
dans de grands mouvement de bras rapatrier mes résidus mes cellules mortes dans
lesquelles tu te coucheras ce soir et demain et après-demain jusqu’à ce que tu
décides de me dissoudre en mettant tes draps au lavage puisqu’ils doivent rester la
les lambeaux de ma peau qu’ils me prolongent qu’ils t’étreignent doucement et te
chuchotent qu’on ne dit pas ça des filles qu’elles sont folles que mon sébum et les
restes de mon parfum te bercent et veillent ton sommeil en te soufflant sur la
nuque que toutes les bâtardes les démentes les étrangères que toutes le folles sont
mes soeurs
"Royaume Scotch Tape" is published by L'Hexagone and is available here
Dr.
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New! LIT Monthly Writing Prompt: April Edition
Happy poetry month everyone!
Here at LIT we are starting a new series of monthly writing prompts. This month’s prompt is from our nonfiction editor Vicky Oliver:
Write about a time when you were lost and how you found your way home.
The hero’s journey is sometimes a parable on the transformation of being: old habits and emotional reactions that are shed out of necessity as they become stumbling blocks to the journey. The old ways are replaced by new strengths or new ideas that have been germinating out of sight, waiting to come into play as fresh discoveries in a moment of crisis,
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Time Flows Like Water; Sunshine For 10,000 Miles, A Love That Fills The Bed; Hello, September
Three Poems by A Hua, translated from the Chinese by Xuelan Su and Kathy Z. Fan
Time Flows Like Water
Use growth rings to tell the story. Get pine resin to seal it in history.
Leave the stump for egrets to perch on.At Weishan Lake, as spring winds blow away the chaos of March,
wetlands burst with birdsong and flower-scent,leaves jostled by rain and pearls of dew become like small boats that bob and sway.
… later, after lake waters recede,
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Country Ghosts
art by Mia Broecke, "eye"
by Francesca Diano, translated from the Italian by Laura Valeri
The two di Franco sisters lived alone. The younger one, all the same old, was rather short, with a big long nose, eyes like two boiled eggs, and hair dyed a brick red color. The older sister was tall and lanky, with white hair so thin that it showed the rosy hue of her scalp, wore her hair in a bun – a tiny little bun that looked like a bird’s nest. They had a big beautiful house downtown,