I ran with the other lovers in the arena of passion and I outran them in the contest, though I went with ease

If ever did other lovers dress in the garments of passion or undress themselves (from them), they were only the clothes I had worn out

If ever they drank a cup of love, be it bitter or sweet, what they drank was what I spilled

– Ishraqa al-Muharibiyya

tyr

Since yesterday
It’s been raining on the prow
          Steel rain that numbs
Our abandoned bones
          gnomon of silence without memory

Since yesterday
The ship is the landscape of a blind soul
And your name upon the ocean
         the sun in a fruit-tree’s mouth


                 the earth and the story
Emigrate with us under our tongues

– Corsino Fortes. excerpted from Postcards from the High Seas

translated by Daniel Hahn and Sean O’Brien

[x]

[corsino-fortes-chapbook-1-of-2] + [corsino-fortes-chapbook-2-of-2]

 

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