Se traslada al momento en que el recuerdo la catea. G.N. patada la puerta dice no mata gente inocente, ordena calle. Helicóptero mosquea en cielos con llanto enmohecidos; amenaza caminar al centro de la avenida cubierta de casquillos o no responder de quienes prefieren el alero, “sospechosos”. Ocho años y todo es grande. Mira la […]
Imagine the hands holding the pieces that have shattered; the attention that cleans, witnesses and attends to the breaks. How would the fragments feel as liquid glue is applied? Then, when dry, the brush lighting up the joins with powdered gold. I see mine gleaming like a stream across my belly, after the ectopic that […]
پریناز فهیمی می خواهم دارچین باشم با شکر فاطی شوم وقت پیچیدنم در خمیر و تاب دادن لبه های شیرینی بروم در چین های انگشتان مادربزرگ الی دعاها و ذکرها قایم شوم بمالم به لبه نوه ها بوسه ای ناغافل را شیرین تر کنم مورچه های قالی را آذوقه باشم و چنان در ذهن بچگی […]
Tết đến xuân về anh có vui không Em vẫn thế từ ngày đầu gặp gỡ Năm tháng qua vẫn mong chờ người đó Thanh xuân này chỉ để nhớ thương anh Em dần hiểu ra tình cảm chân thành Không đủ sức níu lòng người nơi ấy Tháng năm qua nhưng mà anh vẫn […]
Llueve sobre tus ojos claros. Una foto en Plaza de Mayo, una columna de caras marca el camino. Mi padre te mira y da la espalda. (Se contraía el diafragma se abría, como despertarse de un sueño antiguo). Nada. Entre fotogramas, papa nada y yo con ocho años de rigor, veo de rodillas mi nombre […]
有這樣一則廣告: 心房出租 地點適中 有意租賃者 請在十五的夜晚 向明月詢問 月亮圓了又缺 心房，下著霏霏細雨 租金昂貴不是原因 空間太小 容納不了幾樁往事 開門關門 總被酸甜苦辣堵住 以致一空 便空了多年 墻坍倒，瓦碎裂 心房，漸漸陳舊 裝修或重修 待來世再進行吧 2008年1月《新華文學》第68期
Yuyayniymi kutirqamun. Tiqsimuyum iquchasqa kachkan. Manchakuy rimaymi intuchkan. Cemento qisayuq, plasticota uywaspa, chaqwata saksaspam upayarquni. Qunqasqayña muyaytam musqurquni asnayninkunam ripunqaña Puquy pacham miski waspikunata pukuchkan. Yuyayninmi kutichichkan runata musquy ñanninta maman pachaman. Manchakuymi qarqurqa, manchakuy kutichichkan. Kayqaya chayamuni, purun wawqiy sacha asnawan, purun paniy miski qurakuna, ruruq chakrakuna, takiq mayukuna sumaqyachiwan. Pachamaymi qantu chakranpi, ruruchisqan […]
Maybe Mr Brontë’s fear of fire came earlier, Before TB, night sweats, fever, blood-tinged sputum Took his wife, entire kin, five daughters and a son, Till near blind, like Rochester, and alone He circled the table in the parlour: a lost prayer. Perhaps Patrick Brontë could see himself like this: Standing on the edge of […]
This place to be named for those held and lost, Those who were driven from their homes or fled, For those of us not allowed to cross The border, who might visit for an hour at most The sacred place, if sick, if we possess a pass. Named for those shunted from pillar to post, […]
‘It hurt. It hurt like hell. But it didn’t matter, if no one knew.’ Nella Larsen, Passing There is no answer for a broken heart, she said. Now I can’t forget the way she held her head up high. She was always kind, my Mama, dignified. There’s nothing as potent as regret, I said, out […]