Andrea Durlacher

Eloisa_Ballivian_17

Andrea Durlacher
Translated by Anna Rosenwong

It’s something no one regrets.

Menacing rituals arrive like an avalanche

and social norms.

 

Their arrival scares off any afternoon idle.

Shut the doors.

 

We’re cast down defeated in moonlight.

In turn

the reckoning.

 

*

 

I hope the moon

doesn’t draw us toward violent times.

 

I was never violent

and I won’t turn violent now.

 

As for you I love you moonless

in the sin of your own courage.

 

*

 

The letters of each syllable sink

in my room monsters surge back to life from a word.

 

Isolated birds

in scattered cages.

 

I remain.

I regard my thoughts.

 

Image: Eloisa Ballivian

andreadurlacherAndrea Durlacher has been leading writing workshops since 2003 and has been a lecturer at the Universidad de Montevideo since 2006. She has worked as a columnist for El País, El Observador, and Montevideo’s Océano radio station. Her publications include a novel, Esto es una pipa, published by Penguin Random House in 2015, and a poetry collection, Ni un segundo para arrepentirme, which came out with Artefatto in 2004.
annarosenwongAnna Rosenwong is a translator, editor, poet, and educator. Her publications include Rocío Cerón’s Diorama (winner of the 2015 Best Translated Book Award), several chapbooks, and a collection of poetry by José Eugenio Sánchez (forthcoming from Autumn Hill Books). She is the translation editor of Anomaly. See more at annarosenwong.com.


Published on October 29th of 2017 in Poetry.



[ + bar ]


O leito

 

Carol Bensimon

Acontece que nasceram numa cidade bem pequena entre duas mais ou menos grandes, um tipo de coisa ruim para o conformar-se, porque assim tinham toda... Read More »


Writing Lessons for the Blind and Deaf (excerpt)

from the future Spanish of Mario Bellatin translated by David Shook

Josué’s mother was blind. Not always. She lost her eyes one at a time, starting... Read More »


O caderno de Natanael

Veronica Stigger

Opalka entrou na pequena sala da casa de seu filho Natanael e caminhou até a janela, embaixo da qual havia uma mesa quadrada de... Read More »


Cidade Livre (fragmento)

João Almino

Minha insônia de hoje é o prolongamento daquelas horas quando, na escuridão da noite, eu ouvia barulhos de bêbados pela rua, os latidos de meu cachorro... Read More »



» subscribe!

Newsletter