Search the Site

Blog

Interviews

10 Questions for David Lloyd

- By Franchesca Viaud

Here, the bodies of children. They died at dusk.
Instead of bread, fed stones from the sling.
Kept from shelter until their bodies stiffened.
The sun failed to keep them warm.
And she, the greatest sun, could not love them,
because of the stones, because of the serpent.
—translated from Waldo Williams' "The Dead Children," Volume 65, Issue 2 (Summer 2024)

Tell us about one of the first pieces you translated.
When I was working on my first book, an anthology titled The Urgency of Identity: Contemporary English-Language Poetry from Wales (TriQuarterly Books/Northwestern University Press), I translated the “Hon” by Welsh-language poet T. H. Parry-Williams with my mother, Mair Lloyd, whose...


Interviews

10 Questions for noam keim

- By Franchesca Viaud

Late spring and early summer belongs to the delicate smell of lindens in bloom, covering the stench of violence and death in the city of Philadelphia. Every year, as the temperatures rise, so does the litany of guns at night, the refrain of a city intent on breaking your heart. Never enough branches and trunks to cover all the cries.

In the dramatic sun of a Philadelphia spring morning, I walk one mile east from my home to my office without the shade of a tree. My body hasn’t adjusted yet to the cruelty of their absence; I grew up under the cover of linden trees lining up our boulevards and populating the parks of my childhood. Trees I have always known as tilleul in my French home. In this new life, under the canopy of the...


After Us

schutzbunker

- By sabine broeck

schutzbunker she says sternly facing us on tagesshau public television paid with our taxes both parts of this untranslatable german noun a blatant lie there is no bunker in gaza for the maimed, hurt, terrorized, killed, abandoned, starving, crazy with terror and fear palestinian all-gender people and their children nor is there protection because...



Interviews

(Not Quite) 10 Questions for Nicholas Wong

- By Franchesca Viaud

Winter was standing behind him.
It imitated his shadow
And considered itself a tree.
It was getting skinny.
It felt cold.
You’re like a wooden coat hanger prepared to move home.
The hat and the four assembled seasons
Wouldn’t follow you.
They would remain in paper boxes, deep
In their sleep, dreamless and naked.
The cat would stay to guard the home.
from "Coat Hanger," Volume 65, Issue 1 (Spring 2024)

Tell us about one of the first pieces you translated.
They should be poems from Sun Tzu-ping’s collection named 善遞饅頭. Our friendship started when Taipei City invited me to attend their amazing annual International Poetry Festival in 2018. But it wasn’t until...


Join the email list for our latest news