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De Argentijnse dichter Juan Gelman werd geboren op 3 mei 1930 in Buenos Aires. Zie ook mijn blog van 3 mei 2009.xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />
lament for the death of parsifal hoolig
it began to rain cows
and in light of the prevailing situation in the country
the agronomy students sowed disorder
the engineering professors proclaimed their virginity
the philosophy janitors oiled the staples of intellectual reason
the math teachers verified crying the two plus two
the language learners invented good bad words
while this was happening
a wave of nostalgia invaded the countrys beds
and the couples look at each other as strangers
and twilight was served for lunch by mothers and fathers
and the pain or the hurt slowly dressed the little ones
and the chests fell off some and the backs off others and to the
rest nothing fell off at all
and they found God dead several times
and old men flew through the air holding tightly to their dried
testicles
and old women hurled exclamations and felt painful stitches
in their memory or oblivion
and various dogs approved and toasted with Armenian cognac
and they found a man dead several times
near a carnival Friday ripped from the carnival
under an invasion of autumnal insults
or over blue elephants standing on Mr. Hollows cheek
or close by the larks in sweet vocal challenge with summer
they found that man dead
with his hands openly gray
his hips disordered by the events in Chicago
remains of wind in his throat
25 cents in his pocket and its still eagle
with feathers wet from infernal rain
Vertaald door Katherine Hedeen en Víctor Rodríguez Núñez
Juan Gelman (Buenos Aires, 3 mei 1930)
De Duits-joodse schrijver Soma Morgenstern (eig. Salomo) werd geboren op 3 mei 1890 in Budzanów in Oostgalicië. Zie ook mijn blog van 3 mei 2007 en ook mijn blog van 3 mei 2008 en ook mijn blog van 3 mei 2009.
Uit: The Third Pillar
During that night we heard the tumult of battle. And when at the very break of day we ventured out into the street we saw the victors of those nocturnal skirmishes crowd into the city. There were the Germans in their grayish-green uniforms and on their sleeves were the hooked crosses, the swift pockmarks of the German pestilence.
On that day of their rapid victory they did us almost no harm. Perhaps it was that these soldiers were no murderers; perhaps it was that they wanted to give no time to murder. The bloody deeds of this day and of those that followed were committed by our fellow citizens, our neighbors. Ah, it is an ancient sorrow that in the days of their history, whether fortunate or wretched, it was always they, our neighbors, who were prone to vent their spleen on us. That is an old story, a European and Christian refrain.
And yet, contemptible as they were, what were the deeds of violence of our neighbors compared to the ill deeds of the German murderers as they now set in? Those were raging flames; these were all-consuming forest fires. Those neighbors devoured hundreds of us, but millions were spared. These other devoured millions and only hundreds were saved.
I, the narrating judge, mournfully name the deeds of violence of our neighbors, inspired more by the lust of gain than by the lust of blood, in order to commemorate those victims too, may their names be sanctified. Concerning the misdeeds of the German murderers the accusing judge will bear witness, and he will do so according to the measure of blood guiltiness, primarily of the blood guiltiness incurred upon the bodies and lives of our children: from the newborn to those thirteen; that is to say, children according to our Law.
May the accusing judge be upheld before this court by the merits of our fathers and the memory of our martyrs who fell for the Sanctification of the Name. And may strength be granted him to speak of what is unspeakable, that is, to bear witness according to the needs of this court, not to delineate, for that would be contrary to our Law. For only he could succeed in describing these bloody deeds and delineate them who was in a measure allied to the monsters who committed them. Only such a one would be willing and capable of rehearsing these deeds in word or writing or image.
Soma Morgenstern (3 mei 1890 17 april 1976)
De Braziliaanse schrijfster Nélida Piñon werd geboren op 3 mei 1937 in Rio de Janeiro als dochter van Spaanse immigranten. Zie ook mijn blog van 3 mei 2009.
Uit: Voices of the Desert (Vertaald door Clifford Landers)
Scheherazade has no fear of death. She does not believe that worldly power as represented by the Caliph, whom her father serves, decrees by her death the extinguishing of her imagination.
She tried to persuade her father that she alone can break the chain of deaths of maidens in the kingdom. She cannot bear seeing the triumph of evil that marks the Caliph's face. She will oppose the misfortune that invades the homes of Baghdad and its environs, by offering herself to the ruler in a seditious sacrifice.
Her father objected when he heard his daughter's proposal calling upon her to reconsider but failing to change her mind. He insisted again, this time smiting the purity of the Arabic language, employing imprecations, spurious, bastardized, scatological words used by the Bedouins in wrath and frolic alike. Shamelessly he marshaled every resource to persuade her. After all, his daughter owed him not only her life but also the luxury, the nobility, her rarefied education. (...)
Despite the Vizier's protests when faced with the threat of losing his beloved daughter, Scheherazade persisted in this decision, which really involved her entire family. Each member of the Vizier's clan evaluated in silence the significance of the decreed punishment, the effects that her death would have on their lives.
Nélida Piñon (Rio de Janeiro, 3 mei 1937)
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