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George Szirtes
George Szirtes's many books of poetry have won various prizes including the T. S. Eliot Prize (2004), for which he is again shortlisted for Bad Machine (2013). His translation of László Krasznahorkai's Satantango (2013) was awarded the Best Translated Book Award in the US. The act of translation is, he thinks, bound to involve fidelity, ambiguity, confusion and betrayal.

Articles Available Online


Foreword: A Pound of Flesh

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Issue No. 12

George Szirtes

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Issue No. 12

1.   ANALOGIES FOR TRANSLATION ARE MANY, most of them assuming a definable something on one side of the equation – a fixed original...

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January 2014

Afterword: The Death of the Translator

George Szirtes

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January 2014

1. The translator meets himself emerging from his lover’s bedroom. So much for fidelity, he thinks. 2. Je est...

A sparkling frost-clear landscape exists between them under a soft and smudged sky Irises exist, blue and yellow, and those that wither in a hurry Tufted grass and quaking grass exist and the night-blue sloe berry that pulls sour coldness into the face and frosts over the teeth Muddy water and clear springs exist; language that captivates and shoves aside exist, words that beg for mercy, make demands, that regret and apologise, shove aside and once again captivate   A light that uncovers everything exists Darkness exists   And they have been through it all, from one end to the other, over and over again While years replace years and lay new tracks in their handwriting, in their bodies’ falling lines   *   Now she’s lying in bed She’s sleeping The hotel room is grimy and worn, and outside: the city, traffic, a surge of movement and sound At last they’ve met, God would’ve sworn it was impossible after all this time Their advances, so cautious, at an incredible distance She’s sleeping, still warm from his hands; she’s lying on her stomach, the bony stretch of her spine protruding hard from her skin in the twilight He can’t remember when he last slept and he’s smoking with iron lungs and a coated tongue This is killing me, he thinks   *   ‘Love is so huge that you can only dream about it,’ she said before falling asleep   Perhaps she was already asleep   But once in awhile it happens It succeeded an hour ago, when Prague disappeared in the sound of the tremendous passion that gushed from their throats, a choral masterpiece, so tender and brutal A sacred place and a spellbinding music Now reverberating between them   He lights another lousy Czech cigarette, trying to get the feeling out of his chest: that this might last forever   She, lying on the sheets, he, leaning against the wall, naked for each other, all the way to the bones   It’s taken a long time, and he had sworn it was impossible That he would let someone in where he himself doesn’t know what’s there; that someone like her would open up to him,

Contributor

August 2014

George Szirtes

Contributor

August 2014

George Szirtes’s many books of poetry have won various prizes including the T. S. Eliot Prize (2004), for which...

Shine On You Crazy Diamond

poetry

November 2013

George Szirtes

poetry

November 2013

And so they shone, every one of them, each crazy, everyone a diamond shining the way things shine, each becoming a gleam in his...
Rescue Me

poetry

November 2013

George Szirtes

poetry

November 2013

Pain comes like this: packaged in a moment of hubris with a backing band too big for its own good. It isn’t the same...

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poetry

June 2012

At Night the Wife Makes Her Point: Two Poems

Gioconda Belli

TR. Charles Castaldi

poetry

June 2012

AT NIGHT, THE WIFE MAKES HER POINT   No. I don’t have Cindy Crawford’s legs. I haven’t spent my...

poetry

September 2013

Poems

Osip Mandelstam

TR. Robert Chandler

TR. Boris Dralyuk

poetry

September 2013

Osip Mandelstam was born in Warsaw to a Polish Jewish family; his father was a leather merchant, his mother...

fiction

February 2012

A Gift from Bill Gates

Wu Ang

TR. Nicky Harman

fiction

February 2012

My name is Mr Thousands and I’ve worked in all sorts of jobs. Most recently, I’ve been spending my...

 

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