Mailing List


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

feature

Issue No. 12

George Szirtes

feature

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...

feature

January 2014

Afterword: The Death of the Translator

George Szirtes

feature

January 2014

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

Note for the following three poems: In 1965, a bottlenose dolphin christened Peter was the subject of a scientific experiment For six weeks, he lived in a flooded apartment in the Virgin Islands with a woman named Margaret Howe, who was tasked with teaching him human language Needless to say, this was not successful     Margaret’s Visitor The doorbell never rings I still anticipate the TV sitcom bait-and-switch, the postboy’s shock as Peter concertinas through the water to the door, rotates the handle with his bottlenose and nabs the letter in his mouth, delivering a suave Midwestern ‘Thanks’ – and I descend, still fresh from six weeks in a Lurex bathing suit, to wait for his reply I see the postboy see the desk that hovers with its laminated paperwork, like the chrome cloud of an indifferent God; the hair I shaved to bring us closer tufting out, my black lips like a faded mime: and I see Peter, halfway human now, his eyes above the water sitting on his nose, easy as spectacles ‘Oh no,’ he says, ‘it’s no trouble at all,’ craning to sign, the pen between his teeth I’m by his side: a painting of two homesteaders leaning on leaf-nets as if they were farming tools A ball bobs in the background, childishly, but we have put such things away I ask him where he’d like our new delivery We watch the postboy stagger, fish-legged, down the street, his mouth a gasping blowhole     Fourth of July Of course he wouldn’t wear a hat Of course the soggy tickertape Of course this can of frosting in the dark, water-light softening its jagged edges, and for just a tick I seriously thought: what if I

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...

READ NEXT

Interview

Issue No. 13

Interview with Michel Faber

Anna Aslanyan

Interview

Issue No. 13

MICHEL FABER’S RANGE OF SUBJECTS – from child abuse to drug abuse, from avant-garde music to leaking houses – is as...

feature

October 2013

Enjoy His Symptoms?

Michael Sayeau

feature

October 2013

We lack the philosophers that we require for an era marked by agitation and occupation. From the UK student...

Interview

March 2013

Interview with Amit Chaudhuri

Anita Sethi

Interview

March 2013

Think of the long trip home.  Should we have stayed at home and thought of here?  Where should we...

 

Get our newsletter

 

* indicates required