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De Japanse schrijver Teru Miyamoto werd geboren op 6 maart 1947 in Kobe. Zie ook alle tags voor Elizabeth Tery Miyamoto op dit blog.xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />
Uit: Kinshu: Autumn Brocade (Vertaald door Roger K Thomas)
He divides his time equally between Kôroen and the Aoyama condominium. Around the beginning of October, when the company car came to pick him up, he lost his footing going down the stone staircase in front of the condominium and injured his ankle badly-a hairline fracture and a good deal of swelling, which left him unable to walk. In a panic, I jumped on the Shinkansen bullet train with Kiyotaka and rushed to see him. No sooner had he lost his mobility than he became difficult to deal with. He disliked the fussy way Ikuko looked after him, and telephoned for me to come over though I had just left. Thinking that it might turn out to be a long stay, I had no choice but to take Kiyotaka along. As soon as Father saw our faces he calmed down. Perhaps worrying about the house in Kôroen, he perversely started to say that we should go back right away. I didn't know whether to be amazed or amused by his willfulness. Entrusting him to the care of Ikuko and Okabe, his secretary, I decided to return to Kôroen and left for Tokyo Station with Kiyotaka.
It was there that I saw a travel poster for Mount Zaô.The large photograph was filled with the spreading branches of brightly colored trees in autumn. I had always associated Zaô with its ice-covered trees in winter, and I stood in the Tokyo Station concourse imagining how these trees-which would become pillars of ice, but were now brilliant with autumn foliage-would look swaying in the breeze under a star-studded night sky. For some reason, I felt an irresistible urge to let my handicapped child experience the invigorating mountains and see all the stars. When I told Kiyotaka this, his eyes brightened and he begged me to take him there. Although it seemed too much of an adventure for the two of us, we went to a travel agent inside the station and bought train tickets to Yamagata. Then we made reservations at an inn at Zaô. Hot Spring, and tried to reserve return seats on a flight from Sendai to Osaka Airport. No seats were available, though, and we had to change our plans and stay an extra night at either Zaô or Sendai before our return flight. I decided to stay two nights at Zaô so we headed for Ueno Station to catch the tram there. If we had stayed only one night at Zaô. I would not have run into you. It all seems very strange to me now.
Teru Miyamoto (Kobe, 6 maart 1947)
De Zwitserse schrijver, fotograaf en journalist Nicolas Bouvier werd geboren op 6 maart 1929 in Lancy. Zie ook alle tags voor Nicolas Bouvier op dit blog.
LE DEHORS
Comme le temps passe
«
I hate to see the evening sun go down
»
murmure la radio du coiffeur
avec accompagnement de cymbales japonaises
mais c'est bien peu de circonstance
le soleil est à peine levé
et les crachoirs de la boutique
commencent justement à briller
soupirs matinaux
mille anguilles électriques me travaillent les tempes
une couronne de mousse impériale
s'élève sur mon front
et je vois dans la glace
la moitié de mon visage
en train de rire de l'autre
posé entre les cuirs à aiguiser
un bouquet de tagètes
m'adresse des signes éperdus
dont le sens n'est guère convenable
«
kore nani
» (qu'est-ce que c'est ?)
fait une voix d'enfant dans la rue
un peu moins de bruit s'il vous plaît
c'est l'exact milieu de ma vie
c'est un peu de mon temps qui passe
Tokyo, banlieue nord,
Novembre 1964
Nicolas Bouvier (6 maart 1929 17 februari 1998)
De Noorse schrijver Jan Kjærstad werd geboren op 6 maart 1953 in Oslo. Zie ook mijn blog van 6 maart 2007 en ook mijn blog van 6 maart 2009 en ook mijn blog van 6 maart 2010 en ook mijn blog van 6 maart 2011.
Uit: Normans Area (Vertaald door Julie Marie Hansen)
The open window faced west, and when I woke the sound of the sea reached me with a clarity that told me my senses were back to normal. I knew I could not put it off any longer. What I most wanted to do was to comb the island, find out whether the woman in the rowboat lived here I had dreamt of her hair but first I had to get to the bottom of something else. The nausea. Not the nausea of a hangover but the mysterious nausea that had suddenly laid me low some months earlier.
This brings me to a crucial point in my story (search?), and here I would ask not only that you pay attention, but that you keep an open mind: it was early summer and I was sitting in my office, reading a manuscript which, strictly speaking, I did not have to read. I was doing it as a gesture all vain authors loved a perceptive remark at a party and because I liked to keep myself up-to-date. I was about halfway through this manuscript when I began to feel nauseous. I thought it must have been something I‟d eaten: because I had had lunch down by the harbour, where I had been wooing or what in my business is called nurturing‟ one of our promising new writers, and to make him feel special I had insisted on ordering champagne and oysters. But back in my office I soon realised that this queasiness was caused by what I was reading. And here I should just say that it was not a bad manuscript. Not at all. Its authoress was one of the most acclaimed in Norway, the novel had long since been snapped up by a publisher and I could tell with half an eye that it was no worse than her previous books.
Jan Kjærstad (Oslo, 6 maart 1953)
De Italiaanse beeldhouwer, schilder, architect en dichter Michelangelo werd geboren op 6 maart 1475 in Caprese. Zie ook mijn blog van 6 maart 2009 en ook mijn blog van 6 maart 2010 en ook mijn blog van 6 maart 2011.
The Doom Of Beauty
Choice soul, in whom, as in a glass, we see,
Mirrored in thy pure form and delicate,
What beauties heaven and nature can create,
The paragon of all their works to be!
Fair soul, in whom love, pity, piety,
Have found a home, as from thy outward state
We clearly read, and are so rare and great
That they adorn none other like to thee!
Love takes me captive; beauty binds my soul;
Pity and mercy with their gentle eyes
Wake in my heart a hope that cannot cheat.
What law, what destiny, what fell control,
What cruelty, or late or soon, denies
That death should spare perfection so complete?
Vertaald door John Addington Symonds
Michelangelo (6 maart 1475 18 februari 1564)
Zelfportret als onderdeel van de Florentijnse Pietà
Zie voor nog meer schrijvers van de 6e maart ook mijn blog van 6 maart 2011 deel 2.
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