A glimpse into Brazilian poet Fabricio Carpinejar’s new book, Inimigo Imaginário, translated by Johnny Lorenz, and selected translations from previous collections by Craig Epplin. Accompanied by all original poems in Portuguese. Fabricio Carpinejar photographed by Fabrício Carpinejar Edited by by Craig Epplin Poems about the weather, animals and plants, the family, death and language: Fabrício... 

By Fabrício Carpinejar, translated by Craig Epplin Ears of Dew In eternity, no one’s judged eternal. On this stopover, here, I think I’ll last beyond my years, will have another chance at winning back what I left undone. If forgiving is forgetting, the worst awaits: I’ll be forgotten when redeemed. Don’t forgive me, God. Don’t forget me. Forgetting never freed a hostage. Clarity won’t... 

By Fabrício Carpinejar, translated by Craig Epplin First Hill – Poem 8 I recognized the age of the face by the hurried smoke of the plain - she made grow, devious, a snake that hardens its skin at the thrust of a knife. Primeira Colina – Poema 8 Reconheci a antigüidade do rosto pela fumaça apressada do prado - ela encorpava, ardilosa, uma cobra que endurece o couro na estocada da faca. Eighth... 

By Fabrício Carpinejar, translated by Johnny Lorenz I Told You So My father warned me: “If a dog comes toward you, keep perfectly still.” This is how I am with bees and dogs: I never proved the theory, confused as I get when trying to differentiate the approach from the attack, the honey from the growling, the wicked from the wonderful. Eu Avisei Meu pai alertava: “Se o cão avançar, permaneça... 

By Fabrício Carpinejar, translated by Craig Epplin I learned to turn knobs by opening a book. I learned to part my hair by combing its insides. The tracts I’d underline with a pencil are the letters I left for my family. I remember that remembering still persists in me. I had to use a pocket-knife to unseal the pages. The unopened work spoke the absence of reading, and I felt pity seeing it repentant...