There are moments in our lives which, threaded, give us heaven—

These are crystalline - oftentimes incandescent - translations of Juarroz's powerful metaphysical poems where eternity and silence jut up against a world where “writing infects the landscape” and there are “more letters than leaves” - The kind of match one hopes for where both the translator and the poet are in luck; new poems which don't leak and yet old poems in which the original passion shines.

There are moments in our lives which, threaded, give us heaven—

What poetry can, must, and will always do for us: it complicates us, it doesn’t ‘soothe.’

I think I am probably in love with silence, that other world. And that I write, in some way, to negotiate seriously with it.

I think I am probably in love with silence, that other world. And that I write, in some way, to negotiate seriously with it . Because there is, of course, always the desire, the hope, that they are not two separate worlds, sound and silence, but that they become each other, that only our hearing fails.

The storm: I close my eyes and, standing in it, try to make it mine.