Translation
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film room 208, avenue of the poet rilke by Christian Formoso (translated from the Chilean Spanish by Sydney Tammarine and Terry Hermsen) Photography by Michael Angelo Yáñez
film room 208, avenue of the poet rilke
1
fade to black and two cut-off images: a woman in front of a window—the gesture of gathering her hair from her face—and a smudged name like graffiti scrawled on the bridge at ronda. someone who looks like you across from the woman. a blink. the end of the gesture and the movement already washed-out and no longer there.
2
you refuse to speak, thinking of the tree on a small hill. you want to see it in the scene and so it appears.
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Two Poems by M. Vasalis and Arno Bohlmeijer (translated from the Dutch by Arno Bohlmeijer) Artwork by Ton van Rijsbergen
Death
Death pointed out little interesting things:
here’s a nail – said Death – and here’s is a rope.
I look him in the eye, a child. He is my master
because I trust and admire him,
Death.He showed me everything: drink, pills,
pistols, gas tap, steep roofs,
a bath tub, a razor, a white sheet,
“casually”– in case I’d fancy it, one day,
death.And before he left, he gave me a little portrait…
“I don’t know if you forgot it yet, -
Three Poems by Rubén Merriwether Peña (translated from the Chilean Spanish by David Rock)
I’m Pretty Sure I Saw You
I’m pretty sure I saw you
at the end of the world,
trembling under the weight of your perfections.
Your endless eyes like a wellspring
of second guesses, trompe l’oeil of Venus
eclipsing everything.I’m pretty sure I saw you
on the road to tomorrow,
going the other way, farm girl of these
my most fruitful illusions, patroness of hunters
with empty hands.I’m pretty sure I saw you
kneeling in the church
of a misguided God, -
Global Voices Interviews *Croatia* Marko Pogačar & Andrea Jurjević
In conversation with JP Apruzzese
Reading Marko Pogačar’s poetry is like walking into an empty field only to realize that it is teeming with life. Things begin to crawl up through the surface and emerge from the sky and become more real, more important, more meaningful, more consequential the further we allow him to guide us through this uncertain world, which we soon learn is our own. Perhaps his shift in vision comes from being a child witness to the violent fracturing of his world – what was once Yugoslavia – where the promise of unity,
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“Kind of a Short-length Letter for a Full-length Film” by Luis Miguel Rivas (translated from the Colombian Spanish by Valentina Calvache) Artwork by Daniela Moreno Ramirez
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This story is from Rivas’ debut in the Latin American fiction industry: an anthology of short stories written from one of Colombia’s literary outcasts — he didn’t gain recognition until the Guadalajara Book Fair named him one of Latin America best-kept secrets, and his works went through the roof, with translations in French and the signing of his latest novel with Sony Pictures.
“Kind of a Short-length Letter for a Full-length Film” is a magnificent story that encloses and discloses — at the same time — Colombian reality seen through the eyes of a sharp writer,
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“Elisa” excerpt from the novel The One We Adored by Catherine Cusset (translated from the French by Armine Kotin Mortimer) Artwork by Ilan Averbuch
“Elisa”
excerpt from the novel
The One We Adored
by Catherine CussetIn this novel, Catherine speaks in the first person and addresses Thomas in the second, as if telling him the story of his life.
At the dinner I arrange for my husband’s birthday at the end of February, you meet Elisa. You are astonished to discover that this name, with its exotic sonorities, is simply spelled “Elisa,” not, as if it were French, “I-Laïza.” Even more surprised to see that this exotic Elisa I’ve been telling you so much about is so beautiful.
