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paper \u2022 116 pages \u2022 16.95
\nISBN-13: 978-1-945588-73-0
\nPub Date: February 15, 2021<\/p>\n
Add to Cart<\/a><\/p>\n [\/column] In Renditions<\/em>, Reginald Gibbons conducts an ensemble of poetic voices, using the works of a varied, international selection of writers as departure points for his translations and transformations. The collection poses the idea that all writing is, at least abstractly, an act of translation, whether said act \u201ctranslates\u201d observation into word or moves ideas from one language to another. Through these acts of transformation, Gibbons infuses the English language with stylistic aspects of other languages and poetic traditions. The resulting poems are imbued with a sense of homage that allows us to respectfully reimagine the borders of language and revel in the fellowship of idea sharing. In this tragicomedy of the human experience and investigation of humanity\u2019s effects, Gibbons identifies the \u201cshared underthoughts that we can (all) sense:\u201d desire, love, pain, and fervor.<\/p>\n “What Remains”<\/strong><\/p>\n Yes, bread that\u2019s poisoned. And not even one sip of air. Then under the sky-swarm of stars, Bedouins come. for among such riders, little\u2019s needed to inspire\u2014 But if\u2014if\u2014such songs are sung out to the end
\n[column col=”3\/4″]<\/p>\nRenditions<\/em><\/h1>\n
Reginald Gibbons<\/h2>\n
Reviewed in Publishers Weekly<\/em><\/a><\/h5>\n
Featured in Library Journal<\/em>‘s “Books and Authors To Know: Poetry Titles To Watch 2021”<\/a><\/h5>\n
Finalist for the 2021 Best Book Award in Poetry<\/a><\/h5>\n
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\nHow hard it is for the wound of life to be cured.
\nJoseph himself, sold to Egypt as a slave,
\ncould not have been more heavily grieved.<\/p>\n
\nThey quiet their horses. Then in turn, with eyes closed,
\neach invents some chanted fragment of their day
\nof epic nothing, that only brought them boredom,<\/p>\n
\nin the dunes, one man lost a quiver of arrows,
\nothers traded some geldings for a mare\u2014events are
\nonly a mist that thins and disappears.<\/p>\n
\nwith all the heart, with all the breath in the lungs,
\nalmost everything vanishes . . . And what remains
\nis the desert vastness, the stars, the one who sings.<\/p>\n