You might have heard of writing for the desk drawer, but what about writing for your jacket pocket when you expect to die, be buried in a mass grave if at all, and the odds of anyone finding what you’ve written are slim at best?
It happened. And someone found Miklós Radnóti’s poems after it happened. A Hungarian Jew who died six months before the Second World War ended, he knew he was living through a tragedy of biblical proportions, and wanted to record it:
What is special about this bilingual collection of his poetry, however, is that it does not focus only on the years of the Shoah, but also gives the reader access to some much earlier poems:
This is a real collaborative effort between two translators, sharing their knowledge of the source and target language in a process of drafting, commenting and redrafting that they are happy to share in some detail:
Why not join these translators in crossing this bridge from language to language. Every time you cross, you will find something you hadn’t noticed before.