Translations by Christian Wiman

by David Luntz Church bells blot memory.  A typhoon glazes the sky.  At the wake—incense,  and walk-through saints. I brush the dead man’s hand.  “Don’t go,” he whispers.  “Knit your dreams to mine— m...

This Stone House It’s curious. The rocks have faces. There’s Mother in bed, too blue to rise, a crack in the foundation. Father, all show, as decorative as cornices. Siblings, gone: My older sister…

The words, like moist fingers, appear before me full of promise but then run away to a narrow black room that is always dark, where they are silent,…

Emily Greenwood on Mary Barnard, Anne Carson, and how translators have interpreted Sappho.

What happens when you ask contemporary poets to look into the cracked mirror of David Lynch’s work? Fix Your Hearts or Die! is an exuberant, eccentric coll...

Translated by Dana Delibovi The Breath I don’t know wherethe wind that carries mearises. Or thethe sigh that consoles me,or the airthat steadily lifts my breastand holds aloftmy invisible flight.I …