In a time when the only crime is the refusal of access, I found all search terms fail, only foreign language yielded, only the kernel of power, unopening to me. What beauty I knew to lie within, I could not see: just umlauts and A-rings, word atoms which Google could not split… When the penContinue reading “Poetry in Translation: After Erik Axel Karlfeldt’s “Intet är som väntanstider (Nothing is like expecting)””
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The Consolations of Writing 