Over at Bomb’s blog you can read “First Kiss,” a short story by Clarice Lispector, and translated from the Portuguese by Rachel Klein.
The two of them murmured more than talked: the relationship had begun just a little while before and they were both giddy, it was love. Love and what comes with it: jealousy.
—It’s fine, I believe you that I’m your first love, this makes me happy. But tell me the truth, only the truth: you never kissed a woman before you kissed me?
It was simple:
—Yes, I’ve kissed a woman before.
—Who was she?, she asked sorrowfully
He tried to tell it crudely, he didn’t know how.
The tour bus slowly climbed the mountain range. He, a kid surrounded by noisy kids, let the cool breeze hit his face and pass through his hair with its long fingers, fine and weightless like those of a mother. At times he remained quiet, without quite thinking, and only feeling – it felt so good. Concentrating on feeling was difficult in the midst of the uproar of his friends.
Read the full story here.
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“South”
To have watched from one of your patios
the ancient stars
from the bank of shadow to have watched
the scattered lights
my ignorance has learned no names for
nor their places in constellations
to have heard the ring of. . .
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