By Italo Calvino, Julio Cortázar, Fernando Pessoa, Paul Celan, Nicanor Parra, Francis Ponge, Czesław Miłosz, Vasko Popa, Zbigniew H
Editors: Charles Simic and Mark Strand
cover is for reprint; however it is unchanged
A strong selection--mainly of poems, but additionally a few choices from Calvino. Many awesome authors, as one can find from the record above. Paul Celan is winner of a Georg Buchner prize, and there's a pair Nobels up there too (Paz and Milosz).
First released in 1976, this superb anthology from U.S. Poet Laureates, Charles Simic and Mark Strand, compiles a variety of the best translated literature of the time, showcasing the then-little-known writers who had a profound impact at the present iteration of poets.
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Extra info for Another Republic: 17 European and South American Writers
My physique is what you divine yet you spot my soul— you notice it appropriately, and during its eyes you glimpse my physique— examine me: you recognize that I, Alvaro de Campos, engineer, Sensationist poet, Am now not your disciple, am now not your good friend, am no longer your singer, you recognize that i'm You, and also you are chuffed approximately it! i'll by no means learn your whole verses via . . . There’s an excessive amount of feeling in them . . . i am going via your strains as via a teeming crowd brushing prior me, and that i scent the sweat, the grease, the human and mechanical task. At a given second, analyzing your poems, I can’t inform if I ’m examining or dwelling them, I don’t be aware of if my real position is on the earth or on your verse, I don’t be aware of if I’m status right here, with either toes at the flooring, Or striking the other way up in a few type of establishment, FERNANDO PESSOA / ninety five From the average ceiling of your tumultuous idea, From the center of the ceiling of your inaccessible depth. Open the entire doorways for me! simply because i must pass in! My password? W alt Whitman! yet I don’t provide any password . . . i'm going in with out explaining . . . If i need to, I ’ll knock the doorways down . . . sure, mild and civilized notwithstanding i'm, I’ll knock the doorways down, simply because at this second I’m now not mild or civilized in any respect, I’m ME, a pondering universe of flesh and bone, desirous to get in And having to get in by means of strength, simply because whilst i would like to head in am God! Take this rubbish out of my approach! placed these feelings away in drawers! Get out of right here, you politicians, literati, You peaceable businessmen, policemen, whores, pimps, A ll your variety is the letter that kills, now not the spirit giving lifestyles. The spirit giving lifestyles at this second is m e ! permit no son of a complain get in my manner! My direction is going via Infinity earlier than achieving its finish! It’s lower than you even if I succeed in this finish or no longer, It’s as much as me, as much as God— as much as what I suggest via the observe limitless . . move on! Press onward! i think the spurs, i'm the very horse I mount simply because I, on the grounds that i would like to be consubstantial with God, could be every thing, or i will be able to be not anything, or something, simply as I please . . . It’s nobody’s enterprise . . . Raging insanity! desirous to yelp, bounce, Scream, bray, do handsprings and somersaults, my physique yelling, desirous to seize carry of vehicle wheels and pass less than them, Get contained in the whirling whip that’s approximately to strike, Be the whinge to all canines they usually no longer adequate for me, Be the steerage wheel of all machines and their unlimited pace, ninety six / FERNANDO PESSOA Be the single who’s overwhelmed, deserted, dislocated, or performed for, Come dance this fury with me, Walt, you there in that different global, Let’s swing into this rock dance, knocking on the stars, Fall exhausted to the floor with me, Beat the partitions with me like mad, holiday down, tear your self aside with me, via every little thing, in every little thing, round every thing, in not anything, In an summary physique rage that stirs up maelstroms within the so u l. . . rattling it! Get going, I stated! no matter if God himself stops us, let’s get going . . . it makes no distinction . . . Let’s cross on and get nowhere . . . Infinity! Universe!