Poetry at Sangam

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Karen Leeder

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Karen Leeder is a writer, translator and academic, and teaches German at New College, Oxford.           Translations by Karen Leeder Thick of It by Ulrike Almut Sandig, translated from the German by Karen Leeder, is forthcoming … Continue reading

Haze by Naveen Kishore

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eye of haze seeing  un seeing the mirage near  near-then what-must appear                                                                          as far   faraway  distant to the touch  as hands-cuffed  go through the gauze-like wall  transparent wind  yet blurred with unclarity  already squinting eyes red tight-lipped  their reach … Continue reading

Moon by Naveen Kishore

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The moon rising. Somewhere. In the swell of her eyelids. Enthralled. Awed even. He plucked the daydream from his eyes. And gave the rainbow. Free reign. They made love. That much is certain. Blindfolded. Under the eclipse of the sun. … Continue reading

Will you? by Naveen Kishore

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Will you? leave me she asked and I answered will you? Leave? Us? the partings the ones that refuse to tear sundering our leavetaking unbearable waves that threatenpromise to drown forgetting easier easier than unlearning our loving learning learning to … Continue reading

March 2018

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Yes, we are late. But now there’s reason to celebrate. Read this:   Aging light of winter that till so recently stretched to my doorstep now unable to find its way home in the mist   I mourn the passing … Continue reading

by Ulrike Almut Sandig

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when the last song is done, when the sine wave of the last chord is moving off towards the horizon ∞ in small and smaller and almost imperceptible waves, when the vinyl disc has stopped turning, the diamond stylus circles, … Continue reading

by Ulrike Almut Sandig

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can you still see me? you won’t recognize me. already we are almost not there. were you the one who looked right through me? try again, hard as you can, look closely: we were never that pale. my hand rests … Continue reading

by Ulrike Almut Sandig

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when the loudspeakers are silent, the spotlights are dimmed, when the sound of the last chorus has died away behind the scenes of history when the actors’ uniforms have been hung up and the cleaners have gone home, when the auditorium … Continue reading

by Ulrike Almut Sandig

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I’ve been told there is a place for all vanished things, like the old varieties of apple clowns and gods and among them even that good God of Manhattan Karl-Marx-Stadt and Constantinople Benares and Bombay and the names of too … Continue reading

by Ulrike Almut Sandig

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but I won’t say a thing about the way the trees shimmer in the light, nor about the trees themselves. not a word about the beech tree in the doctor’s yard while her daughter is dying upstairs, not a word … Continue reading

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