Translation
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New! LIT Monthly Writing Prompt: April Edition
Happy poetry month everyone!
Here at LIT we are starting a new series of monthly writing prompts. This month’s prompt is from our nonfiction editor Vicky Oliver:
Write about a time when you were lost and how you found your way home.
The hero’s journey is sometimes a parable on the transformation of being: old habits and emotional reactions that are shed out of necessity as they become stumbling blocks to the journey. The old ways are replaced by new strengths or new ideas that have been germinating out of sight, waiting to come into play as fresh discoveries in a moment of crisis,
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Time Flows Like Water; Sunshine For 10,000 Miles, A Love That Fills The Bed; Hello, September
Three Poems by A Hua, translated from the Chinese by Xuelan Su and Kathy Z. Fan
Time Flows Like Water
Use growth rings to tell the story. Get pine resin to seal it in history.
Leave the stump for egrets to perch on.At Weishan Lake, as spring winds blow away the chaos of March,
wetlands burst with birdsong and flower-scent,leaves jostled by rain and pearls of dew become like small boats that bob and sway.
… later, after lake waters recede,
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Country Ghosts
art by Mia Broecke, "eye"
by Francesca Diano, translated from the Italian by Laura Valeri
The two di Franco sisters lived alone. The younger one, all the same old, was rather short, with a big long nose, eyes like two boiled eggs, and hair dyed a brick red color. The older sister was tall and lanky, with white hair so thin that it showed the rosy hue of her scalp, wore her hair in a bun – a tiny little bun that looked like a bird’s nest. They had a big beautiful house downtown,
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“Morning Snow” by Cho Ji Hoon Translated from the Korean by Sekyo Nam Haines
photo by Gerard Franciosa
Wouldn’t you know
without opening a window,
the snow has fallen
on Chun Mountain
The delicate bulb of daffodil
would have
known it first.
In the deepening night
by the lamplight
worries swarmed densely like butterflies.
In my dream
as the snow fell on me
I walked alone on the snow blurring meadow. -
“Hehasnoname, 1-5, 7” by Sharron Hass Translated from the Hebrew by Marcela Sulak
photo by John Peter Apruzzese
Where are you going? Not far from here.
Further down the slope of the corridor.
There despair will be defeated.
I’ve nothing against it but father’s dead body.
Poetry (I still don’t know what it is exactly)
and the shadow that changes its names since my birth.
מּוזִיקַת הַּנָתִיב הָרָחָב
שרון אַס
לְאָן אַּתְ הֹולֶכֶת?
