De Turkse dichter Tevfik Fikret werd geboren op 24 december 1867 in Istanbul. Zie ook mijn blog van 24 december 2006.xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />
FEAST OF PILLAGING
This small feast, gentlemen - for it is waiting to be devoured
trembling in your presence - it is the life of this people
Of this people agonized, of this people dying
But please, feel no restraint, eat, swallow, munch munch
Eat ye gentlemen, this appetizing feast is yours
Till you are satisfied, nauseous, eat till you burst
Gentlemen, you are very hungry, it is to be seen from your faces
Eat, if you dont eat today, perhaps it will not be here tomorrow
This heap of food is honored by your arrival
This is your right because of your campaign, yes, surely that right is yours
Eat ye gentlemen, this joyous feast is yours
Till you are satisfied, nauseous, eat till you burst
Count what these delicate gentlemen have lying around
Nobility, descendancy, honour, games, weddings, mansions, palaces
It is all yours, gentlemen, mansions, palaces, brides, parades
It is all your, it is all yours, readily, easily
Eat ye gentlemen, this appetizing feast is yours
Till you are satisfied, nauseous, eat till you burst
Even if the digestion of greatness is a trouble, its no harm
It has the pride of grandeur, the joy of revenge
This feast expects kindness from your attention
They are all yours these heads, brains, livers, all these bloody morsels
Eat ye gentlemen, this sacrificing feast is yours
Till you are satisfied, nauseous, eat till you burst
The poor country will give, whatever it has, its possessions
Its body, its life, its hope, its dreams
Its entire well-being, what it has of joy in heart
Quick, devour it, dont think about it being wrong or right
Eat ye gentlemen, this appetizing feast is yours
Till you are satisfied, nauseous, eat till you burst
This harvest will end, seize whatever you can on your way out
Tomorrow you might see all the crackling hearths go out
The stomachs of today are strong, the soup today is warm
Nibble, gobble fistfuls and platefuls
Eat ye gentlemen, this feast filled with music is yours
Till you are satisfied, nauseous, eat till you burst
Tevfik Fikret (24 december 1867 - 19 augustus 1915)
De Poolse dichter Adam Mickiewicz werd geboren op 24 december 1798 in Zaosie, nabij Nowogródek. Zie ook mijn blog van 24 december 2006.
THE PILGRIM
A rich and lovely country wide unrolled, A fair face by me, heavens where white clouds sail, Why does my heart forever still bewail Far-distant lands, more distant days of old? Litwa! your roaring forests sang more bold Than Salhir maid, Baydary nightingale; Id'rather walk your marshes than this vale Of mulberries, and pineapples of gold. Here are new pleasures, and I am so far! Why must I always sigh distractedly For her I loved when first my morning star Arose? In that dear house I may not see, Where yet the tokens of her lover are, Does she still walk my ways and think of me?
THE CALM OF THE SEA (from the heights of Tarkankut)
The flag on the pavilion barely stirs, The water quivers gently in the sun Like some young promised maiden dreaming on, Half-waking, of the joy that shall be hers, The sails upon the masts' bare cylinders Are furled like banners when the war is done; The ship rocks, chained on waters halcyon, With idle sailors, laughing passengers. O sea, among thy happy creatures, deep Below, a polyp slumbers through the storm, Its long arms ever lifted, poised to dart. O thought, the hydra, memory, asleep Through evil days, in peace will lift its form And plunge its talons in thy quiet heart.
Adam Mickiewicz (24 december 1798 - 26 november 1855)
De Franse schrijfster en historica Dominique Manotti werd geboren op 24 december 1942 in Parijs. Door de strijd in Algerije werd zij politiek actief en tot in de jaren tachtig deed zij vakbondswerk. Zij ziet zich zelf als communiste en is beïnvloed door personen als Antonio Gramsci en Rosa Luxemburg. Teleurgesteld door de regering van Mitterand wendde zij zich van de politiek af om zich aan het schrijven te wijden. Haar debuutroman, de detective Sombre Sentier leverde haar in 1995 de Prix Sang d'encre op.
Uit: Le corps noir
"Une foule dinformations sur la collaboration entre les patrons français et les services doccupation allemands, sur létat réel de léconomie française, sur le petit monde des collabos politiques et culturels
Et ce soir, la nausée. Dora, la belle Dora, la charmante Dora est enfermée dans un monde irréel, qui court au désastre. Consciente ? Inconsciente ? Peu importe. Non seulement je ne fais rien pour larrêter, mais, bien plus, je lencourage à continuer, je la pousse dans la pente. Un comportement de mac. Un mac intello mais un mac quand même. Pas si différent de Nohant ou de Deslauriers. Arrête de gamberger. Cest la guerre. Finit sa tasse de café. Froid. Se lève. Avec la pointe dun couteau, soulève une latte du plancher, sort quelques feuilles de papier, soigneusement pliées. Les notes de Nohant sur Dora Belle. Pas voulu les laisser au bureau, une indiscrétion toujours possible, trop dangereux. Prend un paquet dallumettes et brûle les feuilles, lune après lautre au-dessus de lévier. Comme une mise en liberté. Purement symbolique. Et va se coucher."
Dominique Manotti (Parijs, 24 december 1942)
De Amerikaanse schrijfster Stephenie Meyer werd geboren in Connecticut op 24 december 1973.
Meyer studeerde Engels aan de Brigham Young University in Provo (Utah). Ze woont in Arizona met haar man en drie kinderen. In juni 2003 kreeg ze een droom over een aantal personages en begon er over te schrijven in een serie jeugdboeken over de liefde tussen een meisje en een vampier. Na de publicatie van haar eerste boek in 2005, Twilight, werd ze als een veelbelovende schrijver aangemerkt. Haar tweede boek, New Moon, uit 2006 stond meer dan dertig weken op de bestsellerlijst van de New York Times
Uit: Twilight
Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven - now fifty-eight - students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together-their grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak.
Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, sporty, blond - a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps - all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.
Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been slender, but soft somehow, obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating myself - and harming both myself and anyone else who stood too close.
Stephenie Meyer (Connecticut, 24 december 1973)
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