Poetry Thieves: Translating Hanna Krall and Ewa Lipska
My first encounter with Hanna Krall, in her cozy apartment in Warsaw, is tinged with delight and trepidation. When I emailed Krall, she expressed surprise at my interest in translating her work from the 1970s. This was modesty, I realize, or else, Krall’s distinct playfulness. She can speak earnestly of her vanity—as a woman, a writer, or both—and, somehow, make fun of it at the same time. As I soon learn, she is being translated into French for a new publication of her reportage that will come out in the fall in Paris.