Journal

Two Lines Press
Print Archive
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Poetry | Sep 2018
この味は海
By Yumi Fuzuki
Translated from Japanese By Jordan A. Y. Smith
In order to don the scent of saltwater, Tonight, I summon the waves. Yearning to overtake the fever rising I puff out my chest, gulping my breath. Because I have elected to name this flavor Sleeping deep in my throat: ocean. The piercing spice of those droplets Certainly will not spoil me.
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Poetry | Sep 2018
Alternative
By Yumi Fuzuki
Translated from Japanese By Jordan A. Y. Smith
"Touch and hearing and sight as well / register only novelty, / so for me, my body remains a thing removed."
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Interview | Aug 2018
By Mary Jo Bang, Emily Wolahan
Translated from English By N/A
"I have become deeply interested in the idea of what it means to carry a piece of writing across from one language to another. And not just carry across one layer of meaning, but all the possible layers that are compressed into the individual words that make up a text."
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Interview | Jul 2018
By Yuki Tanaka, Emily Wolahan
Translated from English By N/A
Whenever I find myself falling into the same compositional habits (the same words, same form, same sentence structure), I go back to translation, then back to writing, and I feel a renewed appreciation of this magical space where anything is possible.
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Interview | Jul 2018
By Sarah Stickney, Emily Wolahan
Translated from English By N/A
"I think that being a poet means being a translator, even if he or she doesn't speak another language. I translate images, sensations, effluences into words."
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Interview | Jun 2018
By Mira Rosenthal, Emily Wolahan
Translated from English By N/A
  "Iambic pentameter and rhyme—not just end rhyme but internal resonances—provided a foundation of sonic texture that worked in English and that was different though perhaps parallel to the music of the Polish."
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Interview | May 2018
By Curtis Bauer, Emily Wolahan
Translated from English By N/A
"I suppose that’s the important thing, that I translate something I want to read."
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Non-Fiction | Mar 2018
KARTKA
By Mariusz Szczygieł
Translated from Polish By Antonia Lloyd-Jones
I leave the café and call Hanna Krall. “It could be yet another list of Jewish women, real names and adopted ones. Lists like that get passed around, so do be careful, Mariusz…” “I’m always careful what I say.” “I know you are, but they might react with terror. You know what? Best leave that list and those women in peace.”
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Poetry | Mar 2018
de Bogolan
By Julien Delmaire
Translated from French By Hodna Nuernberg, Patricia Hartland
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Poetry | Mar 2018
Em primer plano
By Valerie Mejer Caso
Translated from Spanish By Michelle Gil-Montero
The four who face me, glaring. An astronaut, a shepherdess-poet, a village pianist, a woman in furs who rests her chin on the palm of her hand. It would be better to address them, familiarly: You have all witnessed or loved space.
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Poetry | Mar 2018
[Ohé, je serai référent d'hommes]
By Khal Torabully
Translated from French By Nancy Naomi Carlson
Ahoy, I will tend to the tingling of being by tapping on my soul.
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Poetry | Mar 2018
Récit du voyage
By Khal Torabully
Translated from French By Nancy Naomi Carlson
But the sea was reopened, the sea was broken by a rudder’s thrust at a harbor’s entry without a country
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Poetry | Mar 2018
[J'écris sur les planches]
By Khal Torabully
Translated from French By Nancy Naomi Carlson
I hear water racking its brains as it slices through spume.
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Fiction | Mar 2018
Grammatik einer Abreise
By Peter Bichsel
Translated from German By Madeleine LaRue
Without a return there’s no suitcase, and journeys with no return are timeless, not really taking place in the future and certainly not in the present.
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Poetry | Mar 2018
de Falta
By Pilar Fraile Amador
Translated from Spanish By Lizzie Davis
the fog the wind speed the repetitions was it you who saw the bodies the animal sequence of the frieze the fog the ruin of juniper was it you who decided which instruments which rusted snares which chains stayed outside the frame which screams outside audible frequency?
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Poetry | Mar 2018
Sombra
By Valerie Mejer Caso
Translated from Spanish By Michelle Gil-Montero
I saw a rat pass. Or the shadow of a bat flying low. It was something. Some evidence of a world of callous textures.
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Poetry | Sep 2017
"Necesito una boca" de Juana I
By Ana Arzoumanian
Translated from Spanish By Gabriel Amor
She is mad. // They murmur among themselves. They stare at the nakedness over my clothes. My two tongues. The sharp knot of my hands.  
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Non-Fiction | Sep 2017
El último beso de Loba Lamar ("crespones de seda en mi despedida, por favor")
By Pedro Lemebel
Translated from Spanish By Gwendolyn Harper
Street smarts and a genius for her own behind—she flaunted both her in name, that triumph of maritime vaudeville that crowned the dance floor the moment it left the announcer’s lips.
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Fiction | Sep 2017
Au-delà des rizières
By Naivo
Translated from French By Allison M. Charette
I never could shed the obsession. Sometimes in the morning when I wake, I look at the Creator’s rising sun and contemplate my own hands and feet in amazement. I still wonder if I’m truly free.
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Poetry | Sep 2017
ЛОМАРЬ ЯЗЫКА
By Galina Rymbu
Translated from Russian By Joan Brooks
war philosopher war philosopher / I am a war philosopher of peace, like the lotus
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Fiction | Sep 2017
Öræfi
By Ófeigur Sigurðsson
Translated from Icelandic By Lytton Smith
The glacier gives back what it takes, they say, eventually brings it to light.
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Non-Fiction | Sep 2017
床屋嫌いのパンセ
By Toshiyuki Horie
Translated from Japanese By Sam Bett
I remained a devotee of antibarberism, yet to my chagrin was forced to suffer senseless hospitality time and time again— until finding another agreeable establishment in the suburbs of a foreign land.
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Poetry | Mar 2017
By Nicole Brossard
Translated from French By Sylvain Gallais, Cynthia Hogue
"stroking palm and fist to hide / the smell of fear, the daily instinct"
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Poetry | Mar 2017
By Nicole Brossard
Translated from French By Sylvain Gallais, Cynthia Hogue
"in your eyes always / absence’s present eludes"
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Poetry | Mar 2017
By Fabio Morábito
Translated from Spanish By Curtis Bauer
"The one who started it all was my grandmother. It was night, it was raining hard, and someone came to our house."
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