In your living room was
a bone-colored piano.
In boredom we pressed
a key.
We even sang.
Do you remember?
You know, just so
something fills your
rented apartment in Buda,
and recovers its moldy silence.
At the time we were
both still beautiful.
It was fall.
I saw you less
and less.
I could not sleep.
Still can’t.
Translation from the French
In a wide-ranging conversation that headlines World Literature Today’s November issue, we celebrate Ada Limón being named the 24th Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress. With your latest passport to great reading, the editors are also excited to launch an ambitious new editorial initiative to offer a greater number of shorter pieces to help further diversify the magazine’s coverage and facilitate reader engagement from a wider variety of cultural angles.
