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Read these poems on the Modern Poetry in Translation website: https://modernpoetryintranslation.com/poem/four-poems-3/ Joshua Edward writes in the introduction: Every Translation Is a Shipwreck Born and raised on an island, I’ve always dreamed of life at sea, but lacking ‘boat money’ and unable to tell a bowline from a marlinspike, I’ve lamentably remained onshore. Still, I indulge in the idea that the poet’s vocation is similar (at least in outline) to that of the sailor. Aren’t both considered diminished remnants of romantic and impetuous eras? And don’t both occupations hazard fatal depths? These are the waters I’m currently interested in plying, and the poets translated here, Tristan Corbière and Renée Vivien, are well suited to this double dream of poetry and seafaring. Both these poets often take the ocean as their subject, and both are considered what Paul Verlaine called poètes maudits: damned or absolute poets, who’ve gone to the art’s greatest depths. Speaking of damned, it’s easy to also view translators as seafarers. Every translator is a voyager returned from a trip, who wants to repeat the experience with others. But this second journey uses only dead reckoning and is never completed, because every translation is a shipwreck. Which is not to say a disaster: at best the translator fools their companions into thinking they arrived at the intended destination. Also good is when the castaways happily forget about the original port of call, or they are inspired to take the journey themselves, to read the text in its original language. At worst the translator inspires a mutiny, and is lashed to the mast, banished, or flogged. I hope that these attempts get across some good measure of the enthusiasm I have for the original poems and for the act of translation itself.

Readings by Adam Piette and Ágnes Lehóczky. Read the translations of these poems on the Modern Poetry in Translation website: https://modernpoetryintranslation.com/poem/two-poems-12/ Translators Adam Piette and Ágnes Lehóczky write in the introduction: These poems are excerpts from The University Island (forthcoming from And Other Stories), a major work in progress by Hungarian poet István Vörös. The text functions less as a memoir than an anti-memoir—a powerful satire in free verse that chronicles three decades in the trenches of academia. The protagonist, a failed academic and poet, is a tragicomic figure in constant dialogue with his phantom companion, Hermes, the decipherer of the shapeshifting incomprehensible. This inner journey through the history of philosophical hermeneutics echoes the non-conformist souls of twentieth-century literature, reminiscent of Georg Büchner’s Lenz, Paul Celan’s posthumous phantoms, and the morose narrators of Thomas Bernhard. Vörös depicts the slow physical and psychological collapse of a ‘failed lecturer’ challenging a politicised, devalued system. It is a sobering critique of an institutional ‘madhouse’ where the academic becomes the very agent of academia’s demise. The work is a fiercely nihilistic exploration of annihilation, documenting the destruction of the cultural agora and the natural world alike. Yet, Vörös’s genius lies in his ability to present a hyper-real comic world with a humour that is both grotesque and hyperbolic. The narrative occupies a thin line between fact and caricature, where surreal decapitations are viscerally, comically real. Translating this work was a collaborative effort born of shared experience in the British and Hungarian academic systems. We were compelled by its moral weight and its interrogation of the contemporary poem’s raison d’être. Ultimately, the book asks a vital question: do we surrender to a system that reduces us to puppets, or do we believe that literature remains powerful enough to push back against institutional hypocrisy?

Read the these poems on the Modern Poetry in Translation website: modernpoetryintranslation.com/poem/three-poems-5/ Norman Erikson Pasaribu writes in the translator's note: The translation source of these poems was published in Ni Made Purnama Sari’s collection, Kawitan (2016). The title is a polysemant; it can mean (1) the ancestors, (2) the beginning, (3) the ceremony to celebrate the ancestors, (4) the chronology of how our ancestors became our ancestors. Ni Made Purnama Sari navigates the vast space that confines and connects these definitions. Transporting Purnama Sari’s poetic game can be a challenge. Often she freely breaks from the rules of meaning, by erasing subjects, or switching to older Indonesian literary forms or expressions. For example, the poem ‘A Farewell from Paslaan, Apeldoorn’—which is about the great Toba Batak poet Sitor Situmorang—instantly shifts into the pantoum form in its fourth stanza. Bali is one of the most culturally exploited areas in Indonesia. It’s a global tourist destination, historically designed by the colonial Dutch regime. This has led to extreme settler problems. The native Balinese have lost their well-being to the dramatic rise of prices, losing their land over the massive demand for villas built on their ancestral lands. Meanwhile, widely published narratives about Bali in the English-speaking world have mostly been produced from the perspective of the privileged Western eyes that romanticise Balinese culture as ‘the last paradise’ to eternalise the capitalistic tourism industry. Ni Made Purnama Sari’s Kawitan, on the other hand, rebels against these dictations. Her poems discuss Balinese lives by refusing to be ‘a Balinese’. She’s not a Balinese who’s being visited; she’s a Balinese who’s visiting. She traces a connection between Bali to the greater Nusantara and the rest of the world to produce a form of global poetic empathy.

Read these poems on the Modern Poetry in Translation website: https://modernpoetryintranslation.com/poem/three-poems-4/ Ági Bori writes in the translator's note: The poems presented here are a powerful sample of Anna T. Szabó’s oeuvre. Translating her chiselled and daunting poetic voice has been a profoundly moving and humbling experience. Due to the increasingly strict dictatorship in Romania in the eighties, where Anna was part of the oppressed Hungarian minority, she moved to Hungary with her family at the age of fifteen. She started as one of the late intellectual successors of the legendary short-lived literary magazine, New Moon (1946–1948), and seems to agree with one of the authors in its circle, Géza Ottlik, who said: ‘Existence is my profession.’ Anna presents experiences as if they are empirical observations. Her poems are often anchored in pain and suffering, both physical and emotional, revealing her awareness and responsiveness to the emotions of others. Her writings seem to encompass extreme psychic states. ‘Disgust’ is a case study in what I will call ‘empirical observation of everyday horrors’. It charts the mental state of being lost in the world, hitting against the edges of existence. Disgust is distrust: it is losing the essential sense of security. ‘The Lake’ echoes a feeling that was named in the short story, ‘The Imp of the Perverse’, by Edgar Allan Poe: a compulsion to commit an act against one’s own interests. In ‘Crossing, out’ Anna tries to describe death. She was asked to write an elegy for someone she hadn’t seen in over thirty years. The poem deals with the feeling of worldly alienation in which someone is thrown into an abyss: a place without language or direction, where everything earthly is negated, including logic and duality.

Read the translations of this poem on the Modern Poetry in Translation website: https://modernpoetryintranslation.com/poem/three-poems-3/ Translator Stine An writes in the introduction: Yoo Heekyung’s fifth poetry collection, Winter Night Rabbit Worries (Hyundae Munhak, 2023), turns to the origins of stories and poetry. Both the tales that get passed on through time around a small fire on a winter night and the tales spun in the dark alone as a prelude to dreaming. When I first encountered Yoo’s story-poems, they felt like fine watercolour etchings from an old storybook—delicate, wistful, and glowing with a quiet warmth. Later, Yoo shared that his work was haunted by Aloysius Bertrand’s Gaspard de la Nuit: Fantasies in the Manner of Rembrandt and Callot (1842), the collection that introduced the modern prose poem to the Western literary tradition and inspired Baudelaire’s Paris Spleen. These character-driven prose poems are like intimate one-act plays that flame into existence as visions. Within South Korean poetry, his debut Today’s Morning Vocabulary (Moonji Books, 2011) marked a departure from the experimental avant-garde poetics popular at the time. Yoo’s work as a writer and cultural worker is undergirded by his faith in poetry’s plurality, accessibility, and necessity. Poetry is air: the atmosphere he’s shared through Wit N Cynical, the poetry bookshop and project space he founded in Seoul set to celebrate its 10-year anniversary in July 2026. Yoo approaches translation as literary collaboration, as a form of spooky action at a distance. He has described our work being connected by an invisible thread. I reflected on this thread as I brought my own lyricism and literary experiences to these poems. I imagined myself paying attention to the minute vibrations in the language to portray the tonal shadows and the rhythms of the many voices heard and the gestures felt through the dark. – Stine An

My best friend is in love with you, by Danae Sioziou, translated by Panagiota Stoltidou by Modern Poetry in Translation Magazine

I will not repeat Phryni…, by Iliassa Sequin, translated by Calliope Michail by Modern Poetry in Translation Magazine

'Minora Poetica X' by Dimitra Kotoula, tr. Dimitra Kotoula by Modern Poetry in Translation Magazine

'Polysyllabic Words' by Jazra Khaleed, tr. Jason Rigas by Modern Poetry in Translation Magazine

'Names' by George Le Nonce, tr. Kostya Tsolakis by Modern Poetry in Translation Magazine

'The Sea's Remorse' by Argyris Stavropoulos, tr. Gigi Papoulias by Modern Poetry in Translation Magazine

In this special edition, celebrating the magazine's 60th anniversary, we returned to its earliest days with one of the founding members, the graphic designer of Richard Hollis. Richard Hollis designed the very first issue of MPT, working closely with editors Ted Hughes and Daniel Weissbort, and he remained with the magazine as design of a four decades from the broad sheet format, the first issue through to the paperback designs of the 1990s and early two thousands. Joining Richard in conversation about the magazine's history is writer, translator and MPT trustee JS Tennant co-author with Hollis of Cuba, 62.

Atmosphere by Subhro Bandopadhyay, translated from Bengali by Sampurna Chattarji Published in MPT Rhythms of the Land: Focus on the Poetry of Nature Read this poem online: https://modernpoetryintranslation.com/poem/atmosphere/

Kafi: Sanwal Gurmani, translated from Saraiki by Mediah Ahmed, introduced and read by Mediah Ahmed, and the original poet Sanwal Gurmani Published in MPT Rhythms of the Land: Focus on the Poetry of Nature This Kafi by Sanwal Gurmani pulses with the rhythms of love, land, and longing. Set against the backdrop of nature—the forest, the deer, the red earth—it weaves the emotional terrain of human connection into the physical landscape. The forest’s anxiety for its fawn mirrors our own vulnerabilities, while the path of love becomes a metaphorical journey across the land. The naghaaraa of love, traditionally used in communal celebrations and declarations, is reimagined here as an instrument of peace—resolving wars through rhythm and resonance. In a world increasingly marked by conflict, this poem calls us back to tenderness, rootedness, and reconciliation—the true rhythms of the land and heart alike.

Published in MPT Rhythms of the Land: Focus on the Poetry of Nature Summer: N.S. Sigogo, translated from isiNdebele by Stephen Walsh Read by Stephen Walsh with isiNdebele read by Albert Nyathi Read online: https://modernpoetryintranslation.com/poem/summer-2/