Blossoming trees and flowers, along with the attendant pollen they bring to allergic eyes, noses, and throats, demonstrate that Spring has come to Chapel Hill. That also means that it is time for the Spring 2017 issue of The Mercurian.
By Enriqué Zumel
Translated by Christopher Kidder-Mostrom
Through that terrible crone’s interfering,
I move on from this place empty-handed.
From your hands we’d like to be hearing
Applause as the room you are clearing,
If pleased you “A Fiery Young Man” did.
By Federico García Lorca
Translated by Luigi Salerni
I don’t think it will occur to the other woman or the lady Secretary to come around here again when five years pass, but if they should come…
Reviewed by Kristin Johnsen-Neshati
Stories throughout the collection remind us of unparalleled acts of courage, generosity and camaraderie from those days, as well as feelings of guilt for some, and for others the end of fear.
For the PDF of the current issue, please see the following link: The Mercurian 6.3 Spring 2017. All past issues can be found under Index.
For the PDF of the current issue, please see the following link: Volume 6, Issue 2 Fall 2016. All past issues can be found under Index.
With this issue The Mercurian moves to a new publishing format that we hope will be more pleasurable to the eye as well as provide a platform for greater access to the work of our contributors. I want to extend my gratitude to my Editorial Assistant Sarah Booker for taking on the majority of the…
By Jorgelina Cerritos
Translated by Margaret Stanton and Anna Donko
Cerritos’ concern with the theme of identity, not as an ethnic construct, but rather as an existential angst, is expressed through techniques of the Theatre of the Absurd such as the lonely desk on an isolated beach, Dorotea’s insistence that her lone client gets in line and the obsession with documents as proof of existence, documents that cannot be obtained without, ironically, other documents.
By Críspulo Torres
Translated by John Thomas Howard
For them, for all Colombians who have lived through the conflict, there is no silence whatsoever; there is only the endless report of bullets, the continued sound of explosions going off in the distance, and the sirens and the screams that accompany these things.
By Jessica Lusia
Translated by Manoela Wolff
If you knew that your heart would stop in the next second, to whom would you dedicate its last beat?
By Sophie Louise Stevens
This article focuses on the process of translating Bailando sola cada noche written by Uruguayan dramatist Raquel Diana in 2008.
