Light and Shadow Make Up the House


Colombian poet María Tabares.

Without them it wouldn't be what it is:
the open mouth of a wolf,
the apathetic look of an eye socket.
Light combusts,
cooking laughter and meals.
Shadow hides, in the closets, dresses
that, like handkerchiefs,
have been wiping off tears and fears for centuries.
Both light and shadow battle for life.
Amidst the combat, children fall into their arms
who are crying for the first time
and parents, uncles, aunts, grandparents,
dogs, cats, and various birds are all devoured.
The house, never still, creaks and shakes,
and with its walls like sails
moves through time.
We, inside the house, are just dust
that some wind blows along now and then,
and disappears.

Translated by María Clara Cadavid



LALT No. 4
Number 4

The fourth issue of LALT highlights underrepresented but deserving voices from across Latin America, with a focus on women writers as well as special sections dedicated to genre-bending science fiction, indigenous-language poetry and prose, and the essential relationship between author and translator.

Table of Contents

Editor's Note


Short Fiction from Peru


Translation Previews and New Releases



Latin American Science Fiction

Indigenous Literature

Dossier: Five Women Writers in Translation


Dossier: Colombian Poetry

Nota Bene