“An old Portuguese man steps out of a dream about the southand leans against a yellow wall.I would like to be his gaze, which measures the distancebetween the sun, the tourists’ white thighs and the blue tiles of the cathedral.” from “Uno”, one of two poems by Anna Belkovska in translation by Jayde Will that […]
‘But then a grenade exploded, and they were showered with plaster and shards of bricks. Greta covered Hans with her naked body. But he clambered up onto his lone leg and made for the window. Greta tried to hold him back, what could you possibly want to see, my love?’ from “Victory” by Jānis Joņevs, […]
‘To contemporary dance and poetry.To Bukowski, who drinks and fucks in every third poemand sends everyone to hell.I am reading a book of his selected poems in my countryside home.On a bench between the well, woodshed, and greenhouseand lavender, which won’t be here anymore tomorrow.’ from “You Get Used to Everything” by Inga Pizāne, published […]
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