Articles tagged "Spanish"


The Witness

He rested in wildflower-whelmed cemeteries in the yards of wooden churches. —José Antonio Ramos Sucre, “El peregrino de la fe” When I chanced upon a weblog, whose text was also…...

Exilium Ergo Sum

In Cuba, I was an exiled writer. First, because I wanted to isolate myself from that pair of collective hypnoses called the literary field and the national tradition. In Cuba, I didn't need to sail…...

From the Translator: One-handed Translation

When presumably innocent Susan Harris and Samantha Schnee were in touch about translating a story by Israel Centeno titled “Romanza Pornomilitar,” selected by editor Ana Nuño for the…...

From the Translators: On “Regeneration”

In “Regeneration,” it’s said that Juan, the chief protagonist, “feared the loneliness of his apartment more than he did the tedium of the bar.” Like most writers, we translators…...

A Mexican Story

My friend Lencho Mejía has been murdered thirty-seven times in Los Angeles, five in Tijuana, and once in a Romanian-Argentinian co-production filmed in Honduras, which came very close to being nominated…...

Reflections: Juan Gelman

Yesterday, just before the first full moon of the year, Argentine poet-in-exile Juan Gelman died; and last night, my head was full of extraordinary images of Juan. First, I remembered 1975, when Eduardo…...

The Translator Relay: Andrea G. Labinger

What is your connection to the language(s) you translate from and/or the place(s) where the books you translate are written? I began studying Spanish formally in seventh grade as part of an experimental…...

The Week in Translation

Festival de la Palabra Oct 16 events Lehman College: 250 Bedford Park Blvd W (4 train to Bedford Park Blvd/Lehman College); Carmen Hall 224  6:00pm −8:40pm in Carmen Hall 224:…...

Translator Relay: Carol Maier

Our "Translator Relay" series features a new interview each month. This month's translator will choose the next interviewee, adding a different, sixth question. Ronald Christ passed the baton…...

Harpooned Woman

 Two lonelinesses that sometimes came together to feed the ego of destruction. –Marilin Roque   Upon a bed of frustrations, bed of lost hopes, a ghost ship bed, suddenly too wide, too deep,…...

from “Rhapsody”

XV The time has come to say good-bye; with farewells comes wind to the vineyard like dark Valpolicella wine in the hand of dark winter dyes: parks, far stations pass by winter platforms, by hills that…...

The Last Day on Earth

There seemed to be no one left in the barrio now and the windows were bare and the wind stirred through gates and the rats crossed noiseless rooms and the smell of the honeysuckle was fading. At night…...

Crossing Bridges

I crossed the Vltava by way of the Charles Bridge. I crossed the Neva by way of the Trinity Bridge. I crossed the Danube by way of the Lion Bridge. I crossed the Moskva by way of the Novoarbatski Bridge.…...

Social Skills

The Dodge Dart parked on the crosswalk with its right front wheel up on the curb and the fender touching the lamppost. Doña Mercedes, sitting in the passenger seat, opened the door and let out a…...

They Destroyed Our Radios and Televisions

They destroyed our radios and televisions to leave us without images, without those maudlin songs that lulled our past to sleep back when we still believed in trains by the seaside, at the ranch where…...

Under the Sign of Anaximander

I I was raised by a depressed mother and an alcoholic father. Mother soon stopped being a mom in every sense of the word and became more of a nuisance than an iconic figure, just a body to trip over. And…...

What Do You Expect, Heart?

  What do you expect, heart? What do you want from me? To be like Zeno of Elea, who bit off his own tongue in one bite and spit it out at the tyrant? The good angel bad angel speaks: the bearable…...

Bitter Lemons

Everything went well until we got to Corfu.  It’s not that things started to go wrong there, but that this may have been an omen that our happiness had already been drawn out far too long. …...

The Devil Lives in Lisbon

On Mondays Mother always got up at five o’clock. She would leave half an hour after getting out of bed, once she had gathered up all the breakfast crockery, and then, looking at us again with a smile,…...

Don’t Do It

He left his car in the parking lot of the hospital complex. It had all been under construction for years. Around him were unfinished buildings with display windows still protected by tape beside other…...

Roberto Ampuero’s “The Neruda Case”

Never meet your heroes—you’ll only be disappointed, or so they say. For Cayetano Brulé, the mild-mannered protagonist of the Chilean Roberto Ampuero’s sumptuous new novel, that…...

Ne Me Quitte Pas

“I can’t seem to remember her,” the man said in anguish. “I can’t remember her face or her body or her voice—that voice that I once adored. I have this mental image…...

Death

The day Gianni was killed I’d just unpacked from a trip to Cartagena, where I’d gone to tan my beautiful body because I look flawless tanned. So I called my pilot friend who works for ACES…...

The Christmas Tree

Someone had placed a giant tree in the hotel lobby, a pine made of unrecyclable plastics. We’re in a strange land and Christmas is nearing. We see these things with a particular disdain, a particular…...

To Fly to the Himalayas

(This post is based on Yuyutsu Sharma's 2010 visit to Cordoba where he was invited as a guest poet at the Cosmopoetica Poetry Festival.)   My life I can tell you in two words-- a patio and a small…...

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