Gaza is the soil where the tree of my consciousness and enlightenment has grown.

He laid the hairs out in front of him on the kitchen table, stretched out straight and flat next to each other like the strings of an instrument.

With canine relish and human shame, I’d rather sniff than taste.

Tobias Carroll recommends new fiction, poetry, and nonfiction from Argentina, Germany, Iraq, Italy, and South Korea.

Everybody knew that reading strange books was Shaam’s only hobby.

I would praise your bravery when you were twenty-eight / when you boarded an airbus a330 a child in tow

In a world of enforced transparency and readability, Jericho provides lush and deep gardens where no one can find you.

Though the girl’s mom had died five years earlier, her consciousness had been uploaded into a robot body with a tube-shaped head and a torso cluttered with silly refrigerator magnets.

well you’re right we’re stone dead / nothing to worry about

Jaime Huenún Villa remembers his Huilliche-Mapuche ancestors and their wise way of being in the territory.

In the forest, between the acacia, mulberry, and stinging nettle bushes, where snakes shed their skin, she searched for Mangru’s footprints.

The vinyl record turns three thousand four hundred and fifty-six degrees. I counted.

Nuwayra, despite the precision of her intelligence reports, did not advance a satisfactory explanation for how Naima acquired this elephant.

“In Indonesia there are only two categories,” you replied. “Pacar atau suami—boyfriend or husband.

they speak different languages but will learn each other’s

One is hopeful from the moment one enters the city of Ziguinchor.

There’s a Tibetan saying that an old man’s country is like an old bird’s nest.

Tobias Carroll recommends exciting new books in translation from Brazil, Finland, Germany, Italy, Japan, and Sudan.

Words Without Borders is pleased to announce the election of three new members to its Board of Directors this spring: Agnes Ahlander Turner, Merve Emre, and Enid Prasad.

It’s in everyone’s interest to fund the often-unpaid labor of sample translation.

Adriana Paredes Pinda considers the power and implications of writing, what it means to exist between languages, and the lasting effects of colonialism on the Mapuche people.

Gela, my odd Gela, a provincial soul in an overgrown urban body, a clash of ancient and modern.

I want to speak like a woman who burns a pile of old paper in the street / and the flame dances but you can’t see her face

It was highly unusual for him to be this late.

WWB's annual award for the promotion of international literature will go to Daniel Hahn this year.

I sit on the shores of emptiness / and watch my soul foaming red

Daniela Catrileo reaffirms the existence of Mapuche literature—historically considered static or even nonexistent—as a vital, diverse, and growing body of work.

Literature and, inevitably, theater, have belonged to Siracusa since its Greek colonization.

She was golden. As was her writing, which will live on forever.

Everyone around me spoke both languages and we could move back and forth between them almost unconsciously, which is why I often say that my real first language is Spanglish.