
I recently edited a collection of British contemporary love poetry, which included works from well-known wordsmiths such as Ted Hughes, to avant-garde talents like John Cooper Clarke, Annie Freud and Wendy Cope – all bringing to life their translations of love. On the night of the book launch I was suddenly struck by how many living poets were actually in the room. This would seem like an absurd statement, but rarely are poets able to publically celebrate their work – especially in their own…
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