Another Republic: 17 European and South American Writers

By Italo Calvino, Julio Cortázar, Fernando Pessoa, Paul Celan, Nicanor Parra, Francis Ponge, Czesław Miłosz, Vasko Popa, Zbigniew H

Editors: Charles Simic and Mark Strand
cover is for reprint; however it is unchanged

A sturdy selection--mainly of poems, but in addition a few choices from Calvino. Many extraordinary authors, as you can find from the record above. Paul Celan is winner of a Georg Buchner prize, and there's a pair Nobels up there too (Paz and Milosz).

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First released in 1976, this remarkable anthology from U.S. Poet Laureates, Charles Simic and Mark Strand, compiles a range of the best translated literature of the time, showcasing the then-little-known writers who had a profound impact at the present iteration of poets.

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Anyplace you're now ( I don’t recognize the place it really is however it is G od ), you are feeling this, i do know you're feeling it, and my kisses are hotter ( between u s) * the most advertisement and fiscal thoroughfare in Lisbon, similar in the way to W all highway— actually, Gold highway. ninety four / FERNANDO PESSOA And you love it that means, pricey outdated guy, and also you thank me for them— i do know this good, anything tells me, like a sense of friendly heat in my spirit, An summary, indirect erection on the backside of my soul. there has been not anything of the engageant in you— relatively the muscular, the cyclopic, although in dealing with the Universe yours used to be the angle of a lady, for each blade of grass, each stone, each guy was once a Universe for you.

After which my vacancy, the vacancy of me that i'm now, will refill with itself, filled with being to the threshold. I’m in a rush to be. I run in the back of myself, at the back of my position, be­ hind my gap. Who has reserved that position for me? what's my fate’s identify? Who and what's that which strikes me and who and what awaits my arrival to accomplish itself and to accomplish me? I don’t be aware of, I’m in a rush. notwithstanding I don’t circulation from my chair, don’t get up and about. although I flip and switch in my cage. Nailed via a reputation, a gesture, a tie, I stream and take away.

Fireplace, energy, could, you who carry me within the palm of your hand whose furrows Are like titanic gorges combed via southern wind. You who provide simple task a hundred and forty / CZESLAW MILOSZ In the hour of worry, within the week of doubt, it really is too early, permit the wine mature, permit the tourists sleep in Mittelbergheim. A bad Christian appears on the Ghetto Bees construct round pink liver, Ants construct round black bone. It has began: the tearing, the trampling on silks, It has began: the breaking of glass, wooden, copper, nickel, silver, foam Of gypsum, iron sheets, violin strings, trumpets, leaves, balls, crystals.

The coaches with jingle-bells have arrived, on the ball all of them bow to the self-appointed bride. N o blood flows, merely pink birds 194 / MIROSLAV HOLUB have come from distant, their feathers torn at the method. Cinderella is sorting the peas, solid ones, undesirable ones, certain and no, sure and no. There aren't any nuts, no prince, no doves, no mummy, and there's just one wish: Cinderella is sorting the peas. Quietly, as whilst one fastens the rafters, items jointly the clockwork, or just mixes bread. and should be it’s lighter than air, will be just a music within the brain, could be just a blown feather.

The viper saved a meticulous account e-book within which she famous each penny I borrowed from her, She wouldn't permit me use the toothbrush I had given her myself, and she or he accused me of getting ruined her formative years: along with her eyes flashing fireplace she threatened to take me to courtroom And make me pay a part of the debt inside of a cheap interval considering that she wanted the cash to move on along with her stories. Then I needed to take to the road and live to tell the tale public charity, dozing on park benches the place the police chanced on me again and again, loss of life, one of the first leaves of autumn.

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