PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
Mark FordLetters And So It Goes
Letters from Young Mr Grace
(aka John Ashbery)

(PN Review 239)
Henry Kingon Toby Martinez de las Rivas
(PN Review 244)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Kei Millerthe Fat Black Woman
In Praise of the Fat Black Woman & Volume

(PN Review 241)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Next Issue Sasha Dugdale, Intimacy and other poems Eugene Ostashevsky, The Feeling Sonnets Nyla Matuk, The Resistance Alex Wylie, Democratic Rags Brigit Pegeen Kelly, Two poems from the archive
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PN Review Blog
Monthly Carcanet Books

This poem is taken from PN Review 131, Volume 26 Number 3, January - February 2000.

Four Mistranslated Sonnets Frank Kuppner

1. Hillhead

Snow is falling onto the travel agent's
and onto the pub beside it. All those places
that I have never been to, listed in the window
at temptingly keen prices! No use. No use.
They cost too much anyway, but that isn't really the point.
I would like to see the Greek islands, but not right now
when a stranger and deeper destination entices me.
I am going to a flat right at the top of this hill!
Three connected rooms. Three! Space enough
for the richest life. This slope which I have dealt with
hundreds of times in years gone by, without
for a moment suspecting its capacity for joy,
I now inspect with awe like a recent visitor to this planet.
For now I must start to make sense of tangled legends of my own.


2.

Merely sitting in the same room, talking to you,
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image