I. It is raining —I believe that it is raining, but it is not. —You believe that it is raining and assert that it is not? —Yes. I believe that it is raining but I know that I am mistaken. —How do you know? —That is not the issue. The issue is: I believe that […]
Fiction 65
Eugen Jebeleanu: Don’t
No, don’t enjoy this life too much, this tumult which makes you imagine it’s not the same thing as sand. Don’t imagine … because it’s like this. From flames she makes ash. From ash, wind. And from what’s made from wind she makes a room without walls, without words. —translations by Matthew Zapruder and Radu […]
Eugen Jebeleanu: Venus XX
Her teeth had all fallen out. She was still beautiful. She had hips made of gulfs, and she swayed bluely. She was entirely guiltless. She was walking straight ahead. And she told me that she still had one more tooth. She was so hot to the touch, so ardent. I said, “At last a goddess […]
Eugen Jebeleanu: Patience
No, the dead aren’t getting bored. Far away they are waiting for me to reach them. And waiting, they leaf through a book with wet pages—and they smile at me.
Nora Iuga: From Capriccios
13. then the phone rang a white horse appeared and ate from my palm my hand crossed the red sea it reached the promised land stone by stone my way is clear stone by stone my flesh becomes thinner there was a character who came out of nowhere the very mouth of my beloved today […]
Nora Iuga: Au relanti
yes in a seductive jungle I too would have liked to encounter the tiger with a flower in its muzzle yes I too would have liked beneath the scourge of words thoroughly confused and falsified to find someone waving at me from the crowd of skirts and soldiers there are compressed spaces on maps there […]