poem by Ella Leynard
Yes, Mother, you are right You were right, Mother, when you said that whatever may come, we can only tell each other what there is to be told
poem by P.C. Scheponik
Back to the Dream I wonder if Kent State, If Woodstock, if Steinman’s bra-burning revolution ever happened.
poeme de Maggie Harris
(egoRainbow) traducere & prezentare: Monica Manolachi Maggie Harris este o poetă, prozatoare și artistă vizuală britanică născută în 1954 în Guyana. După moartea prematură a tatălui, a migrat cu mama și cu surorile ei mai mici în Anglia în 1971. La maturitate, a urmat studii de licență și de masterat la Universitatea din Kent și […]
poem de Monica Manolachi
Tandoori masala Am uitat coriandrul și cum gătea mama puiul. Am uitat ghimbirul, iar piața muncii invocă o criză de livratori. Am uitat chimionul și regulile de circulație rutieră.
“It gives me so much joy to translate poetry”
[interview with Monica Manolachi] by Ines Vig How do you perceive the role and significance of working as a literary translator in your career? I have translated literature ever since I graduated from the Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literature, University of Bucharest, almost two decades ago. It has shaped me both as a researcher […]
The Day I Remembered My Soul
by Nolo Segundo When I was 24, I killed myself. I put it that bluntly because it was not an attempted suicide, a cry for help, but a decision to self-murder. Yes, it was a desperate act, a last attempt to escape what my mind feared as lifetime imprisonment in a mental asylum [they still […]
Drinks
by Dominik Slusarczyk I The gin tastes old. I down it anyway. I’ve got to get drunk: the drinks in the club will be incredibly expensive and we’re going to be there until four in the morning. If I drink lots now I won’t need to buy any drinks for the first […]
poems by Allison Whittenberg
Sustainable eating eggshells for calcium –
The Rascal King and Cai the Bunny
[A Tale] by Daniel de Culla This Rascal King was a king highly esteemed and admired by his people: Women admired him because he left every female who danced with him pregnant. As it could not be otherwise, to the woman who was flirting with him, he said:
poeme de Vîlcu Maria
[poezii frânte] # pe cer izvora un pârâu de cerneală ce se tot împrăștia prin univers, un condei vărsat,