The hunters have all failed,
the three hunters and their forlorn dogs
now arriving home from the mountain
which thunders above their village
with nothing to show for their expedition
except one dead fox.
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‘The hunters have all failed, / the three hunters and their forlorn dogs / now arriving home from the mountain / which thunders above their village’
The hunters have all failed,
the three hunters and their forlorn dogs
now arriving home from the mountain
which thunders above their village
with nothing to show for their expedition
except one dead fox.
Sign in to Granta.com.
‘Feelings can be very obscure but numbers never lie.’
Kevin Brazil on metrics, obsession and fitness.
‘An intense workout is an ecstasy of punishment packaged as self-improvement.’
Mary Wellesley on exercise, ritual and Barry’s Bootcamp.
‘I was not good at sports because I would not do sports because I did not have the body for sports because I would not do sports.’
Saba Sams on girlhood, embodiment and avoiding sports.
‘Following United rarely brings me any great joy and most often it depresses me. If I could disengage, I would.’
Jonny Thakkar on Manchester United.
‘I deployed my body against an opponent like a blunt and effective instrument.’
John Patrick McHugh on playing Gaelic football.
Andrew Motion was the UK's Poet Laureate from 1999 to 2009 and his new collection, Peace Talks, is forthcoming by Faber & Faber. He is a Homewood Professor of the Arts at Johns Hopkins University and lives in Baltimore.
More about the author →‘What am I doing here more than looking – / which I would stop / only to help things through their vanishing’
‘He dedicated The Less Deceived to her: it was the only collection of poems he dedicated to anyone.‘
‘I promise you, the committee only looks at two things: how feasible a proposal is, and what it could actually do for the environment.’
A bureaucrat and an entrepreneur discuss environment-saving proposals in a short play by Si’an Chen, translated by Jeremy Tiang.
‘He did what people told him to do. He was a machine.’
A short story by Eka Kurniawan, translated by Annie Tucker.
‘It is time, now, for Karl to break down with his confession that I am a slow-burning fuse in his loins. A hair trigger. I am a name he cannot silence. A dream that never burst.’
Fiction by Louise Erdrich.
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