Translation | Page 13

On Halloween

November 4, 2020 Dispatches, Translation

Translated by the author and JESSICA ZYCHOWICZ

Hudson, NY

I feel greedy, I have a frog in my throat because of this
expensive beer. I start to ask around, like a detective,
and immediately get some info
from the writer sitting at our table nearby,
whom I got to know just now.
The house of Ashbery has likely mahogany doors facing
the square, probably where city hall is.
I don’t even think about visiting without letting
someone know first. I stop and read a few poems in a bookshop.
You won’t repeat the jokes, I say,
you’ll go around to all the apartments on Halloween
with pumpkins, like I used to do
in my childhood, but then the main thing was trick or treat,
not to force someone for an interview or a photograph.

Another Education

October 28, 2020 Issue 20, Issue 20 Poetry, Lusosphere, Poetry, Translation

By CRISTINA CARLOS
Translated by JETHRO SOUTAR

At school I learned to count—one plus one is two
I learned to multiply—one times one is one
And subtract—one minus me is zero: Nothing!

Brief Exchanges

October 28, 2020 Essays, Issue 20, Issue 20 Essays, Lusosphere, Translation

By SUSANA MOREIRA MARQUES

Translated by JULIA SANCHES

1.
It begins with her saying I’ve never told anyone and ends with me saying Neither have I. And in between, a single sentence on how the love we feel for a child is not necessarily immediate, on how we need time to get to know and fall in love with another being, even though they were once inside us. We talk over the phone; this may never have happened face-to-face, or as we looked one another in the eye.

two chairs

October 28, 2020 Issue 20, Issue 20 Poetry, Lusosphere, Poetry, Translation

By JARID ARRAES

Translated by MARGUERITE ITAMAR HARRISON

tell me
about how tough everything is
and even the beer’s out of reach
and even writing has dried up
tell me

Sea of Azov

October 28, 2020 Fiction, Issue 20, Issue 20 Fiction, Lusosphere, Translation

By HÉLIO PÓLVORA
Translated by AMANDA SARASIEN

The sea was unfurling bolts of cotton on the beach.

But now, at least in this cove, the sea is muddy. The waves sprawling on the sand, under the spotlight of an intense sun, exhibit a strange hue—a corrupt, corrosive red that might be called ocher, as if the sea, in its incessant flow, had passed through steep, muddy ravines before subsiding here, and dislodged clumps of earth that dissolved to contaminate green water, bluish water.

Ascendant Scorpio

October 28, 2020 Issue 20, Issue 20 Poetry, Lusosphere, Poetry, Translation

By MATILDE CAMPILHO
Translated by HUGO DOS SANTOS

for José

On the night Billy Ray was born
(New York, 28^th and 7^th)
not one soul contemplated the geraniums
There was, however, the sound of the world falling
like multiple stalactites
in the area surrounding the hospital

Alone, I Arrive in a Looted City

October 28, 2020 Issue 20, Issue 20 Poetry, Lusosphere, Poetry, Translation

By JOSÉ LUÍS PEIXOTO
Translated by HUGO DOS SANTOS

Alone, I arrive in a looted city
and walk slowly, my arms hanging
loosely, I look through open doors,

The Mermaids’ Cry

October 28, 2020 Issue 20, Issue 20 Poetry, Lusosphere, Podcasts & Audio, Poetry, Translation

By LEONARDO TONUS
Translated by CAROLYNE WRIGHT

The Common Magazine · The Mermaids’ Cry (Leonardo Tonus)

they say that the most impressive of all crossings
is not thirst
or the fear
afterwards.
The humiliation
no longer wounds
what does not exist
they say
bodies in a boat
of bodies
veins
eyes
skin
penis
nails
vagina

Exile

October 28, 2020 Fiction, Issue 20, Issue 20 Fiction, Translation

By CLARA OBLIGADO
Translated by RACHEL BALLENGER

On December 5, 1976, I arrived in Madrid from Argentina. I flew Iberia airlines, caught the plane in Montevideo because I was afraid of the disappearances happening at the border. I left wearing summer clothes, as if I were a tourist heading for the beaches of Uruguay, then, two or three days later, landed in Madrid, where it was winter. My father and sister saw me off. It took me six years—the years of the dictatorship—to return.

Under Our Skin—A Journey

October 28, 2020 Essays, Issue 20, Issue 20 Essays, Lusosphere, Translation

By JOAQUIM ARENA
Translated by JETHRO SOUTAR

And then, as is its wont, death comes knocking at the door. This time from two thousand miles away.

I try to get the image I have of him in my head to focus. The man who tried to be my father for over thirty years. Officially, not biologically, and not anymore. A death that will nevertheless force me home, back to Lisbon, just when I thought I’d found my place on this dry and sleepy island.