Dolce far niente
Streets in Late August door Daniel Robbins, 2013
August
A day of torpor in the sullen heat Of Summer's passion: In the sluggish stream The panting cattle lave their lazy feet, With drowsy eyes, and dream.
Long since the winds have died, and in the sky There lives no cloud to hint of Nature's grief; The sun glares ever like an evil eye, And withers flower and leaf.
Upon the gleaming harvest-field remote The thresher lies deserted, like some old Dismantled galleon that hangs afloat Upon a sea of gold.
The yearning cry of some bewildered bird Above an empty nest, and truant boys Along the river's shady margin heard-- A harmony of noise--
A melody of wrangling voices blent With liquid laughter, and with rippling calls Of piping lips and thrilling echoes sent To mimic waterfalls.
And through the hazy veil the atmosphere Has draped about the gleaming face of Day, The sifted glances of the sun appear In splinterings of spray.
The dusty highway, like a cloud of dawn, Trails o'er the hillside, and the passer-by, A tired ghost in misty shroud, toils on His journey to the sky.
And down across the valley's drooping sweep, Withdrawn to farthest limit of the glade, The forest stands in silence, drinking deep Its purple wine of shade.
The gossamer floats up on phantom wing; The sailor-vision voyages the skies And carries into chaos everything That freights the weary eyes:
Till, throbbing on and on, the pulse of heat Increases--reaches--passes fever's height, And Day sinks into slumber, cool and sweet, Within the arms of Night.
James Whitcomb Riley (7 oktober 1849 – 22 juli 1916) Greenfield, Indiana, de geboorteplaats van James Whitcomb Riley
De Amerikaanse dichter Charles Reznikoff werd op 30 augustus 1894 in New York geboren. Zie ook mijn blog van 30 augustus 2010 en alle alle tags voor Charles Reznikoff op dit blog.
A Son with a Future
When he was four years old, he stood at the window during a thunderstorm. His father, a tailor, sat on the table sewing. He came up to his father and said, "I know what makes thunder: two clouds knock together." When he was older, he recited well-known rants at parties. They all said that he would be a lawyer. At law school he won a prize for an essay. Afterwards, he became the chum of an only son of rich people. They were said to think the world of the young lawyer. The Appellate Division considered the matter of his disbarment. His relatives heard rumours of embezzlement.
When a boy, to keep himself at school, he had worked in a drug store. Now he turned to this half-forgotten work, among perfumes and pungent drugs, quiet after the hubble-bubble of the courts and the search in law books. He had just enough money to buy a drug store in a side street. Influenza broke out. The old tailor was still keeping his shop and sitting cross-legged on the table sewing, but he was half-blind. He, too, was taken sick. As he lay in bed he thought, "What a lot of money doctors and druggists must be making; now is my son's chance." They did not tell him that his son was dead of influenza.
Charles Reznikoff (30 augustus 1894 – 22 januari 1976) Een zomers dakterras in New York
De Chinees-Franse dichter, schrijver en vertaler François Cheng werd geboren op 30 augustus 1929 in Nanchang in China. Zie ook mijn blog van 30 augustus 2010 en eveens alle tags voor François Cheng op dit blog.
Ame soeur
Ame soeur Entends-tu ce qui Vient de l’heure, ce qui Vient du coeur, à l’heure De l’abandon, à l’heure Du crève-coeur, Ce battement depuis La naissance, déchirant Les entrailles maternelles, Déchirant l’écorce Terrestre, ce battement Qui cherche à se dire, Qui cherche à se faire Entendre, entends-tu Ame soeur Ce cri d’avant-vie, plein D’une étranger nostsalgie, De ce qui avait été Rêvé, et comme à jamais Vécu, matin de brume D’un fleuve, nuage Se découvrant feuillage, Midi de feu d’un pré, pierre Se dévoilant pivoine, toute La terre embrasée, tout Le ciel incandescent En une seule promesse, En une seule invite Ne rate pas le divin Ne rate pas le destin, Entends-tu ce qui Vient de la flamme Du cœur, à l’heure Du crève cœur, ce cri Surgi un jour, à ton Insu, en toi-même, Le transparent, le transportant, Le transfigurant, seul cri Fidèle à l’âme en attente, Ame sœur.
François Cheng (Nanchang, 30 augustus 1929)
De Tsjechische dichter Jiří Orten (eig.Jiří Ohrenstein) werd geboren op 30 augustus 1919 bij Kutná Hora. Zie ook mijn blog van 30 augustus 2010 en eveneens alle tags voor Jiří Orten op dit blog en eveneens de tags voor J. Orten.
And Throw Your Clothes Away...
Things would become full of life again and all the songs, time's arias would follow as before to sustain things hidden within us
If someone just shed that heaviness which has imprinted our touch and finishes sewing the coat's stitches knowing now it doesn't hurt much
Just not to pull it on the body as you are used to in the frost wearing long sleeves when February has brought love that tends to exhaust
Feel a touch where the cloth has left it where there is the bare skin lying where there is no place for a jacket (it is too large for the living)
Jiří Orten (30 augustus 1919 – 1 september 1941) Cover
De Duitstalige, Tsjechische schrijfster Libuše Moníková werd geboren op 30 augustus 1945 in Praag. Zie ook mijn blog van 30 augustus 2010 en eveneens alle tags voor Libuše Moníková op dit blog.
Uit: Eine Schädigung und Pavane für eine verstorbene Infantin
„Ich habe heute die Katze ausgesetzt. Ich habe sie an einem Waldrain, zum Feld hin, verlassen, ich rannte davon, damit sie mich nicht einholt. Es war der liebste Kater, den ich je hatte, er heulte und miaute und lief mir nach, ich habe ihn abgehängt. Danach Seitenstechen, und die Hüfte. Ich habe Katzen nie kastrieren lassen, ich habe sie vertragen, wenn sie zu träge, zu anhänglich wurden, sie sollen verwildern, Wühlmäuse fangen, notfalls auch Sperlinge falls sie sie kriegen, sich mit anderen Katzen anlegen, vielleicht auch mit Füchsen. Er soll sich verlaufen. Ein Film über die holländischen Geiseln, die zwölf Tage von den Molukkern im Zug festgehalten wurden, in Frost, Hunger, Todesangst. Nach der Freilassung besuchten viele von ihnen die Molukker im Gefängnis und setzten sich für ihre Forderungen ein. Ein Mann geht seitdem regelmäßig mit seiner Frau zu ihren Festen und versucht, mit ihnen zu feiern. Andere haben es bis heute nicht überwunden, sie sind für Augenblicke immer noch Geiseln. Ein fünfzigjähriger Zeitungsredakteur aus Groningen schildert die Strapazen, dann sagt er zu seiner Frau, die bei dem Interview neben ihm sitzt, daß es auch schön war. »Ich habe zwölf Tage lang nichts getan, wofür ich mich hätte schämen müssen. Ich bereite mich für das Seminar am nächsten Tag vor. Ich werde eine Karte der Stadt an die Wand projizieren und die wichtigsten Orte zeigen, die mit Kafkas Biographie und mit seinen Texten zusammenhängen: die wechselnden Wohnsitze der Familie, Kafkas Anstellungsstätten, seine gescheiterten Versuche, allein zu wohnen, die Wege, die er unternahm, um sich in der weiteren, tschechischen Umgebung auszukennen. Er blieb in dem kleinen Stadtquadranten gefangen. Über seine Grenzen, im eigentlichen Sinne aus der Stadt, ist er nicht hinausgekommen; nur der letzte Ausflug glückte und endete in Kierling. Ich werde diesen Bereich auf dem Stadtplan markieren; ich werde über Kafkas Zugehörigkeiten mutmaßen.“
Libuše Moníková (30 augustus 1945 – 12 januari 1998) Cover
De Engelse schrijfster Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley werd geboren op 30 augustus 1797 in Somers Town, London. Zie ook alle tags voor Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley op dit blog en ook mijn blog van 30 augustus 2010.
Uit: Frankenstein
“Well, these are useless complaints; I shall certainly find no friend on the wide ocean, nor even here in Archangel, among merchants and seamen. Yet some feelings, unallied to the dross of human nature, beat even in these rugged bosoms. My lieutenant, for instance, is a man of wonderful courage and enterprise; he is madly desirous of glory, or rather, to word my phrase more characteristically, of advancement in his profession. He is an Englishman, and in the midst of national and professional prejudices, unsoftened by cultivation, retains some of the noblest endowments of humanity. I first became acquainted with him on board a whale vessel; finding that he was unemployed in this city, I easily engaged him to assist in my enterprise. The master is a person of an excellent disposition and is remarkable in the ship for his gentleness and the mildness of his discipline. This circumstance, added to his well-known integrity and dauntless courage, made me very desirous to engage him. A youth passed in solitude, my best years spent under your gentle and feminine fosterage, has so refined the groundwork of my character that I cannot overcome an intense distaste to the usual brutality exercised on board ship: I have never believed it to be necessary, and when I heard of a mariner equally noted for his kindliness of heart and the respect and obedience paid to him by his crew, I felt myself peculiarly fortunate in being able to secure his services. I heard of him first in rather a romantic manner, from a lady who owes to him the happiness of her life. This, briefly, is his story. Some years ago he loved a young Russian lady of moderate fortune, and having amassed a considerable sum in prize-money, the father of the girl consented to the match. He saw his mistress once before the destined ceremony; but she was bathed in tears, and throwing herself at his feet, entreated him to spare her, confessing at the same time that she loved another, but that he was poor, and that her father would never consent to the union. My generous friend reassured the suppliant, and on being informed of the name of her lover, instantly abandoned his pursuit. He had already bought a farm with his money, on which he had designed to pass the remainder of his life; but he bestowed the whole on his rival, together with the remains of his prize-money to purchase stock, and then himself solicited the young woman's father to consent to her marriage with her lover. But the old man decidedly refused, thinking himself bound in honour to my friend, who, when he found the father inexorable, quitted his country, nor returned until he heard that his former mistress was married according to her inclinations. "What a noble fellow!" you will exclaim. He is so; but then he is wholly uneducated: he is as silent as a Turk, and a kind of ignorant carelessness attends him, which, while it renders his conduct the more astonishing, detracts from the interest and sympathy which otherwise he would command.”
Mary Shelley (30 augustus 1797 – 1 februari 1851) Scene uit het ballet “Frankenstein” van choreograaf Liam Scarlett, Londen, 2016
Zie voor nog meer schrijvers van de 30e augustus ook mijn blog van 30 augustus 2016.
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