When I Was a Man

When I was a man I lived in San Cristóbal. At the top of the mountains in the south, along the border of Guatemala, in a place where they… More

The War Works Hard

How magnificent the war is! How eager and efficient! Early in the morning it wakes up the sirens and dispatches ambulances to various places swings corpses through the air rolls stretchers to the wounded summons rain from the eyes… More

Greeting, Slippage, and Shaping

As someone specifically interested in the translation of poetry, of the free verse variety, I will come down squarely on the side of occasional long shots, slippages into the… More

Poems (1945-1971)

The CanaryThey stood him where the harshest wind blowsthey promised him to the froststhey gave him a black dressand a red tiea nail-punctured sun that drippedblack glassesblood… More

The Gifts

Today I put on / a hot red blood / today people love me / a woman smiled at me / a girl gave me a shell / a… More

Miltos Sachtouris: The Soldier

The SoldierI have written no poemsin thudsin thudsmy life rolledOne day I trembledthe next day I shudderedin fearin fearmy life passedI have written no poemsI have written no poemsI… More


AcrobatBetween word and thinga leap over nothing.Around the wordthe myriad layers of dreams.An onion. An atom.A ravenous onion.Between one layer and anothernothing.The layers leap over the void,take the hollows by… More


FalangeOur arrival is gradual, discreet,but we’re certain, as certainas six and seven make thirteen.The hour doubles itself, heightensas we drive past, ever smugand rounding up silences.We’re severe, as completeas… More

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