Palabras Errantes Latin American Literature in Translation
Palabras Errantes in Nueva York
The Palace of Justice
By Felipe Martínez Pinzón. Translated by Cherilyn Elston. For Carlos Cortés Castillo (6th November 1985) My father tells me that at seven at night he returned from work in a Renault 4, with a friend, skirting round the edge of the Andes. In the darkness they heard on the radio, also kidnapped, of […]
Girls
By Evgueni Bezzubikoff Diaz. Translated by Jessica Sequeira. Yes, Vanessa Rodríguez. Whether made by love or work These are my attractions. As you say, Everything has a place in this Paradise. You look kind and handsome, will you please buy me another drink? I know that eagerness in your glance. Not here. There […]
Accomplices
By Evgueni Bezzubikoff Diaz. Translated by Jessica Sequeira. You have come with me. Nearby, my heart lies Twisted by a psychopathic moon. (In the strip club we look at all those long clean bodies.) Do not ask the street, the hour. The daring space. Now that my life as a laborer is […]
Traditions
By Evgueni Bezzubikoff Diaz. Translated by Jessica Sequeira. I wait for you in the lobby of the Metropolitan Where the faces Told of in all legends and climates May be seen. Three domes, three arcs: Beneath their reassuring strength I wait. On the right are the Hellenic moons, one of The possible beginnings […]
The Dead
By Evgueni Bezzubikoff Diaz. Translated by Jessica Sequeira. A dark car pursued us. It was summer, the very middle of summer And the thermostat showed 50 °F. I would say it was less, much less. In the early morning, people’s breath Was visible. The towns kneeling at the highway’s edge Remained asleep, […]
Curves
By Evgueni Bezzubikoff Diaz. Translated by Jessica Sequeira. 103.FM The Strokes: Fear to Sleep The Wallflowers: One Headlight Billy Idol: Rebel Yell Taking the road from that house. The left side of the highway is like Monaco and The Formula 1 is a V6 blowing off his head. From afar, the bridges […]
The Polis
By Evgueni Bezzubikoff Diaz. Translated by Jessica Sequeira. I have known what the Greeks knew not: Uncertainty. – Borges To listen to the radio in Europe In these days when even The hand most dexterous Knocks up against the future. People are pulling out their hair, Prime ministers are beating their breasts. […]
The Scrolls of Christ from the Elqui
By Evgueni Bezzubikoff Diaz. Translated by Jessica Sequeira. The Scrolls of Christ from the Elqui, Discovered in Huacachina Lagoon—Ica, Peru Opening Address Use up, use up your body in dreams And in undertakings. Don’t hold back. Draw near these Lights that trace the reflections Of your very soul. Don’t just pay your […]
Selected Poems
By Javier Peñalosa. Translated by Annie McDermott. I Once (it is written in the books) the aqueduct went down from the spring to the mouth of the well. All day and all night you could hear the pebbles running in the water. And all we found was a load of stones spread over […]
Lives of the Saints
By Javier Peñalosa . Translated by Annie McDermott. Invisibility was the mark of her house. She shifted her body to leave blank spaces among the furniture. Sparrows and beggars drank water on the patio. She offered the music of abandoned things, a violin with a broken bow, dry stems, scales balanced by the […]
Milk
By Marina Carrasco-Perezagua. Translated by Jennifer Early For Hui Zhang, Deuckjoo Kim y Rafael Córdoba In December 1937, two Japanese newspapers ran a story about a competition: Lieutenants Toshiaki Mukai and Tsuyoshi Noda had decided to have a friendly wager. The winner would be the first to kill a hundred Chinese prisoners. On Sunday, […]
Hansel and Gretel
By Lissi Sánchez. Translated by Jessica Whitfield versión en español I. At first I hold back —I don’t know what to tell her—. Then the bambi story comes to mind. When we were little, my father used to take us on expeditions every Saturday. We used to go to a forest close to my house […]
Greenwich and Something Else
By Gloria Esquivel. Translated by Catherine Mansfield. If I were brave I’d use my words to act serene, serenely active like a ninja I’d become a word and solve crossword puzzles and walk through Chambers and West Broadway as a living word I’d burn misty rain and […]
Yozakura
By Gloria Esquivel. Translated by Catherine Mansfield. I’ve turned my tongue into a fish fillet. Without scales, without gills, it lies shyly on a bed of ice that holds it fast. A chunk of red tuna without a pulse. I serve it at a restaurant in the East […]
Sunday Afternoon in the Museum of Natural History
By Gloria Esquivel. Translated by Catherine Mansfield. I saw meditating sea elephants suspended behind glass like mystic nuns I studied their stomachs as if heaven might burst out I saw butterflies transforming into ears and sipping toxic particles, as they peeled the edges of their wings a man was singing: […]
Chelsea Market
By Gloria Esquivel. Translated by Catherine Mansfield. One hundred and fifty lobster pincers couldn’t snap at my heels: I resisted the crustacean attack with perfect poise. Since then I surrender to idleness submerged in boiling water among butter and blisters. Si no me comes tendré que comerme a mí mismo […]
Poem
By Gloria Esquivel. Translated by Catherine Mansfield. I ate blueberries as I walked across Williamsburg bridge my lusty crunching of teeth and stone broke down the softest obstacles, the softest beams in my mouth I found a watery hollow the ones left in the box spilled and drilled a groundspot on […]
Muñoz 0126
By Enrique Winter. Translated by Ellen Jones. Like someone carrying a tidal wave, silently rebuking those unburdened or those who break their silence the day I see her again I’ll see expectations not hope – narrow jaw, broad shoulders, the flat plain of her breasts, fat hips, a thermometer not a thermostat. […]
Ribeiro 0106
By Enrique Winter. Translated by Ellen Jones. I am summer, daring, and a little bit spring-like. I am passionate, dedicated, jealous, I am very loyal. I am coca-cola. I am a barbecued, medium-rare shoulder steak. I am alfresco dining, just the two of us. I am a fillet of fish. I am nova zi pizza. […]
Suns 0098
By Enrique Winter. Translated by Ellen Jones. One sol, like the sun god of the same name, a tip for a waitress surprised by her own luck. A red sun on the beach, a pixel in the eye on a digital photo we shouldn’t have taken obscured by lines of cloud (the […]
Architecture 0096
By Enrique Winter. Translated by Ellen Jones. This the shoebox where I live the shoebox where my father lives. Two left shoes. ––When I was a little girl I wanted to be an artist, a vet or an astronaut. ––I wanted to be an architect (she looks at me disbelieving). My dad sometimes took […]
10:30 in the morning
By Gema Santamaria. Translated by Rebecca Keith. 10:30 in the morning and we’re still not ready a bird died in the entrance of your house. a creature hardly a body hardly without blood. black wings between the leaves tangled in a troubled gesture, the tense agony of survival. the […]
the most intimate place to start fires
By Gema Santamaria. Translated by Rebecca Keith. the most intimate place to start fires the kitchen. hell. place of knives and blood. it’s here where oil burns where my mother received her deepest scar. they say it’s the place of abundance of the sweet, warm smell of milk, of […]
light rain
By Gema Santamaria. Translated by Rebecca Keith. light rain birds of salt fall on the greens. a tiny muzzle stifles their cry, a chrysalis of light sharpens their torment. dead from tired wings in a song turned blue by vertigo. their whiteness undresses the abyss with the tiny […]