For this last half year I have been troubled by the disease (as I may call it) of translation; the cold prose fits of it . . . are always the most tedious with me . . .
—John Dryden, “On Translation”
Cold prose fits, wrote Dryden. Yes, but where
does it fit? Oasis in the desert:
hot paroxysms, steam of poetry,
mirage evaporating like a puddle
too shallow to drink from. But it glistens
until it morphs to drifts and mounds of snow.
The impudence of morning, calm and pink.
What was all that rumbling in the night?
Where are the crags and barricades? The white?
Heavy ploughs are clearing avenues
for the day’s transition to cold prose.
—Rachel Hadas
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
War abroad. Socialists on the rise. AI upending human life. Endless uproar online. The modern attention economy doesn’t want readers — it wants users enslaved to the tyranny of the present.
First Things is the antidote: literary excellence, timeless truths, and a fixed point of reference in a culture that has lost its bearings.
But we can’t do it without readers like you.
Our goal: Raise $150,000 by November 1 to sustain First Things in the year ahead.
Your gift anchors readers in the permanent things.
Make your Fall Campaign gift now using the button below.
If you have any questions or would like more information, please contact Giovanni Del Piero, Director of the Editor’s Circle, at gdelpiero@firstthings.com or 212-627-1985.
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