in this issue
- EDITORIAL
- MEDITERRANEAN POETS: Achour Fenni
- Fatima Naoot
- Rana al-Tonsi
- Sabina Messeg
- Tal Nitzan
- Simone Inguanez
- Samira Negrouche
- Adrian Grima
- ICELANDIC POETS: Sigurbjörg Þrastardóttir
- Sigurdur Pálsson
- Adalsteinn Ásberg Sigurdsson
- WELSH-BELGIAN POETRY WORKSHOP
- POETRY REVIEWS:Softly Creaking Englishes
- FOUND IN TRANSLATION
Sigurdur Pálsson
At Journey's EndPhoto: Karolis Zukauskas
"First you see the white headlights
approaching..."
Sigfús Dadason
In the distance quiver the headlights
of a car slowly driven over the hill
I know that we soon will see
the tailights
The red taillights
That's how it was in his poem
That's how it is now
The headlights quiver
an instant in the distance
That's how it was
That's how it is
My house
There is almost nothing missing
from my house
almost nothing
The chimney's missing
That grows on you
The walls are missing
and pictures from the walls
Take that as it is
There's not much missing
from my house
The chimney's missing
It won't smoke in the meanwhile
The walls are missing
and the windows
and the door
But it's cosy, my house
Please
Have a seat
Don't be scared
We'll have a bite
Break the bread, sip the wine
Light a fire in the hearth
Look at
no admire the pictures
on the walls
Please
go in through the door
or the windows
if not just the walls
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