Fishhawks - Anne Szumigalski

my son stands in waist-high water
the salt reddens his skin
out of his face spring wiry hairs
thickening to a beard
his arms have become wide and heavy

Sapadilli Tam - James Martinez

You want to hear of of w’at I know,
About de fish day tark of so,
De one dat people use to see,
Outside o’ Sapadilli Caye?

Lamp-Lit - Kisaka Ryo

I step into my apartment and first off
dart a look at the little lamp
on my answering-machine.

To the Venerable Virgin, Mariana De Jesús De Paredes Y Flores, Lily Of Quito - José Manuel Peramás

Virgin, the New World’s sweet pride and greatest glory,
Receive these Indian verses, which the poet renders to you,
coming from Quito’s boundary, with your pleasant demeanour

The Potatoes - Inge Pederson

Hospital. In sinking
yellow gardens. Water
stands still
under the trees.

Freedom Writers - Nimah Ismail Nawwab

The scribe’s spirit lifts
scenting the perfume of promising openness
taking a deep breath of tangy freshness
freedom of speech hailed in surprised jubilation

Ballad - Dan Andersson

My passion was born in the lusty spring
At the strand of the river tumbling blue.
Wild honey I drank in the years of my youth
In meadows drenched with midnight dew.

Listening to Mukesh - Pooja Nansi

Driving to your block,
I slide in my father’s cassette
of old Hindi songs and
I am humming in twilight
to the legendary
playback singer’s baritone

The Helmet And The Dandelion - Eduardas Miezelaitis

The Helmet And The Dandelion
Near a rotted old stump
Which the spring water washes
An old helmet rusts, gaunt,
And upon it, audacious,

Spring-Watching Pavilion - Hồ Xuân Hương

A gentle spring evening arrives
airily, unclouded by worldly dust.