Even under a most repressive censorship regime or even in a most watched jail cell, writers and artists will find channels to express themselves.

Dreams, denied, / turned into maps.

There is a restlessness in the city that I have grown to love—it’s like a swaying cat’s tail.

Just what she needed. An outing with a man just released from prison.

The boy lay down in the middle of the street. All alone.

I thought about the eyes of the girl standing tall with her cut hair. Suddenly, the sun rose.

He needed a phone more than anyone in our prison ward.

Tobias Carroll recommends exciting new books in translation from Denmark, Argentina, Palestine, Mexico, and Poland.

It’s about showing how poetry in translation is intertwined with innumerable parts of society, and can create resonances and collaborations that are precious, that last, that matter.

The bazaar reveals this to us: / I sell / Get sold / Someone buys me / and I buy someone else

As a writer, the only fidelity you swear is to the text: the text is king and you have to be careful not to frighten it away with your preconceptions and expectations.

Fiction came to us from the West. Creativity did not.

Once a book is published, the story no longer belongs to me.

“Shame on you, boys. Dullards. A girl has outdone you all.”

No matter where you are in the city, the time of year or weather, the sky at dusk will stop you in your tracks.

and where do they make this tenderness / as the war rages on around them?

For Sámi literature to continue playing its essential role in our culture and to expand its benefits, we need more writers, readers, and translators, which is impossible without support—both financially and through the education system.

Languages are particularly challenging to exhibit physically in museums—how then to tell the story of our most precious forms of intangible cultural heritage in a tangible form?

Love doesn’t exist before marriage, Ramla. It’s time you come back down to earth.

The children ask where they are going. They, too, have begun to grasp that they are not heading home.

We want to showcase the best translations from South Asia, and help make visible authors, translators, and literature that are still largely invisible outside of South Asia.

Grandma Susana wore long skirts, and she even drank vinegar to make her face paler, as a mortification of her beauty.

When the forested valleys in Russia start filling up with snow, the wolf begins its journey from the south toward the plains in the north.

Tobias Carroll recommends noteworthy new books in translation from Brazil, Egypt, Hungary, Colombia, South Korea, and Norway.

It’s always struck me how many rich people in our countries end up hiring their own private armies: a very Colombian phenomenon.

“There have been times when we have spent hours discussing a single phrase and how to give it the same life and soul in English.”

I thought he was in search for something meaningful and, thus, he was exposing himself to conditions he hoped would light the way for a coming revelation.

“To me writing is an act of listening. And if I am writing well then what I write will necessarily be new to me as well. Writing is a journey into the unknown.”

We’re living in a world where both languages and people are constantly in flux. In this novel, I wanted to focus on a small group of people making their way through that world.

“One thing that makes 'Kibogo' such a compelling work is the critical distance it maintains from all the power structures it describes.”