Three Poems


Argentine poet Juan Arabia.


I am going to pawn my heart
until it becomes a bird and from it fall
new stars for the world.

Because I still travel
—I am a stranger—
and in the cities, the bridges
fall silent and hurt me.

I am going to protect myself from atrocities
and from injustices
until the twilight turns pink
and scars over.


Lake District

I, who denied Christ on the first ship,
finally understood the meaning of the word goodbye.
It’s not a simple send-off:
it is the moment when everything sinks
into the white and transparent seas of numbers,
and the flower it lost, the only proof
of the existence of a paradise.

It is the moment of loss of the immediate heat
of the air that encloses and separates each
thing that exists in the world.



We move away from the city,
misfortune, misfortune, etc.
In which we make
no more songs.

Our flute remained buried
in the roots of a willow:
destroying the ground,
raising streets and paving stones.

We go far, friends:
where the cows drink,
where the sap flows.

Our verses need
to be judged,
but in more savage lands...


Recommended Reading:

"Against the Eviction of the Poet: An Introduction to the Poetry of Juan Arabia" by Rodrigo Arriagada


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