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Literature, PoetryJanuary 27, 2016

the cold

 Artwork by Jaime Sáenz

Artwork by Jaime Saenz

Only when I look at your face
do I realize how strange the oblivion had been
— your face is like oblivion.
In it reflect the inhabitants’ living flesh and spirit,
in it the city assumes its disposition and only when the
night has fallen do I recognize its expression,
I don’t know what it will be like in the day,
I have my doubts that you will be real in the sunlight,
with this fleeting step through the thickness of the
shadows spanning the crystal of the cold,
losing you in the depths of the city while I look for you,
hiding from my sight and breaking away from the
Hell in which, night after night, I believe I will be able to
find you,
and showing me with an uncertain glance someone’s
path, when I look at you and lose sight of you with just
enough time to follow the line of your eyes.

*

You, who always show up in the winter, year after year;
you, who get lost
and walk in the streets, and without meaning to, teach
me to live and help me to die,
you are the cold, are the city, your presence is a music
with the virtue of being heard only in its oblivion:
thanks to you I learned how to say goodbye,
and without you I would not have been able to do it as
I did, out loud in the face of destiny,
nor would I have been able to know the true cold and
go into it,
and stop fearing it,
without you
— (because it was time to learn to be old, after all).

~ Jaime Saenz, trans. from Spanish by Kit Schluter

Jaime Saenz wrote ‘la noche’ and ‘los papeles de narciso lima-achá’. He is said to have stolen a corpse’s limb from the morgue, and to have brought a panther home to his wife on their wedding day. 

Kit Schluter is a poet, editor of O’Clock Press, and translator of Marcel Schwob’s ‘the book of monelle’ and ‘the king in the golden mask’.

 

Editor’s note: This is an excerpt from ‘the cold’, first published in Poor Claudia.

Tags

Bolivian poetryJaime SáenzKit SchluterpoetrySpanishthe absurdity of the cosmostranslations

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One last love letter...

April 24, 2021

It has taken us some time and patience to come to this decision. TMS would not have seen the success that it did without our readers and the tireless team that ran the magazine for the better part of eight years.

But… all good things must come to an end, especially when we look at the ever-expanding art and literary landscape in Pakistan, the country of the magazine’s birth.

We are amazed and proud of what the next generation of creators are working with, the themes they are featuring, and their inclusivity in the diversity of voices they are publishing. When TMS began, this was the world we envisioned…

Though the magazine has closed and our submissions shuttered, this website will remain open for the foreseeable future as an archive of the great work we published and the astounding collection of diverse voices we were privileged to feature.

If, however, someone is interested in picking up the baton, please email Maryam Piracha, the editor, at maryamp@themissingslate.com.

Farewell, fam! It’s been quite a ride.

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