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By: Shahidul Zahir
Translated by: Layli Uddin
Translated by: Mir Rifat Us Saleheen
25 Jun 2018
The old residents of Dhaka can still remember how once, long ago, all the crows vanished from the city.
25 Jun 2018
那匹蓝色的马每次在我睡着的时候,就来到我的梦里,跟我宁静地说一声:“走吧。”于是我就跟着它,我们健步如飞——对于我衰败的身体而言,那种轻盈的感觉简直欣喜得让人恐惧。
26 Mar 2018
These days I’m not ashamed of lying at all, you see; lying and exaggeration are just the fashion lately. If it weren’t the Age of Lies, after all, then the Coin of Truth would be worthless!
26 Mar 2018
زه اوس په درواغو نه شرمیدم ځکه درواغ او تیر ایستنه اوس یو موداو د چوکۍ او پیسو د پیدا کولوښه وسیله ګرځیدلی وواو کله چې ددرواغو زما نه وی د ریښتیا سکه نا چله وي
4 Dec 2017
Là fuori, nel buio, un gigantesco animale invisibile si stiracchiò, si allargò, prese possesso dell’aria, dell’acqua, della fragile struttura degli scogli. Un soffio repentino, come il fiato emesso di colpo per spegnere una candela, e l’immobilità fermò ogni suono. Olì non sentiva più lo sciabordio delicato del mare al piano di sotto, il tintinnio delle funi metalliche che ancoravano il pontile, lo sventolare diseguale della bandiera coi quattro mori in cima all’antenna corrosa.
By: Clelia Farris
Translated by: Rachel Cordasco
4 Dec 2017
Out there, in the darkness, a huge invisible animal stretched, expanding, taking possession of the air, the water, the fragile rock structure. A sudden blow, like the breath that extinguishes a candle, and stillness stopped every sound. Olì no longer heard the gentle lapping of the sea downstairs, the tinkling of the metal ropes that anchored the pier, the fluttering of the flag with the Quattro Mori on top of the corroded antenna.
25 Sep 2017
She looked me in the eyes. "The colour I see, the colour of the flames that burn my skin. I saw it for the first time in his eyes."
26 Jun 2017
Ni siquiera me he quitado los tacones cuando entra la llamada de mamá. ¿Y si no contesto? Acabo de llegar; Gary todavía me está dando el estado general: falta leche en el refrigerador, las manzanas van a echarse a perder, una ventana se quedó abierta en modo manual y se apagó la calefacción. Quiero bañarme, meterme a la cama, olvidar todos los problemas de abrir un nuevo invernadero en la ciudad. Me apoyo contra la pared, dejo salir el aire mientras la alarma parpadea en la esquina superior de mi campo de visión. Podría ignorarla y pedirle a Gary que comience a calentar el agua para un baño. Debería contestar. Mamá ha llamado tres veces durante el día y no ha dejado ningún mensaje. Eso no es normal.
By: Marcelo Cohen
Translated by: Kit Maude
26 Jun 2017
The girl’s name is Lina and she works in an ice cream parlour at an airport. One morning, seeing that they’ve almost run out of pistachio flavour, she decides to open a new container and in that container she finds a human limb sticking out of the synthetic tropical green slab.
By: Andrea Chapela
Translated by: Andrea Chapela
26 Jun 2017
I haven’t even taken off my heels when my mother’s call comes in. I wonder if I should answer. The door hasn’t closed yet, and Gary is still reporting the house conditions: no milk in the fridge, some apples about to rot, window set to manual, heat turned off. I just want to take a bath, get into bed, and forget how hard it is to open a new greenhouse in the city. I lean against the wall, which is cold against my back. I let out a breath while the notification blinks in the upper corner of my sitefield. I could ignore the call and ask Gary to heat the water. But I should really answer. Mom has called three times already, and she hasn’t left a single message. It isn’t like her.
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27 Jun 2018
Read in Italian here People who know me know that for some years I have been involved in an almost impossible mission: to promote and spread not much the concept of SF “diversity” (a positive idea that hides, in my opinion, a fundamental error, that is diversity from a common standard; from a normality that has become a benchmark for evaluating any phenomenon, yet which doesn’t exist in reality) but instead a fairer distribution of “the future” and therefore of opportunities between dominant cultures and languages and those ones considered minor for the only reason of being “other”. Fortunately, as a small publisher and SF writer, in five years of translations from at least six languages, ​​and with a catalogue of over seventy stories published from around the world I can affirm: Quality has no colour, Quality has no nation, Quality has no language, Quality belongs to everyone.…