Dermot Bolger, Felix Mitterer, Heinz Kahlau, Thomas von Steinaecker, Annelies Verbeke, Pramoedya Ananta Toer, John Henry Mackay

De Ierse schrijver en uitgever Dermot Bolger werd geboren op 6 februari 1959 in Dublin. Zie ook mijn blog van 6 februari 2009 en ook mijn blog van 6 februari 2010. 

 

Uit: Walking The Road

 

„FRANK: Hear the whispers of men whose bodies were never found. I was a blind mouse tussled up in a grain sack, scurrying about with no way in and no way out.

COMPANION: I wanted someone to hold me amid the bullets and screaming.

FRANK: I want someone to find my remains – a splintered skull and some buttons, two rows of teeth biting into a rusted identity tag.

COMPANION: (Rises) Feel them pass, Frank? Another shoal of souls from Ypres, another flock of swallows searching for Africa. Always at the end, one confused soul is struggling to keep up, clinging onto the past, unable to accept that it’s simply too cold to stay here. It’s time you took flight too, Frank, time to try and walk this road home again.

FRANK: I don’t know how. I’m still just not ready.

COMPANION: Think of one night, Frank. One night when you knew you were truly walking home. 

FRANK: Creeping down the back stairs of Mr Daly’s shop, crossing the main street of Rathfarnham village, walking through the dark of South Dublin. (He rises and starts to walk around the extremities of the stage) I carry my first poem close to my breast and I’m walking home. Will I be there by daybreak?

COMPANION: We’ll all be there by daylight. There and back again, Sir.

FRANK: (Approaches COMPANION, as they are both facing each other, centre stage) For ninety years now I have been walking home. My name is Wolfgang and I am walking home. My name is Hans and Gunter and Gabriel…

COMPANION: (Overlapping with him) My name is Alasdair and Alexander and Dirk and Dieter.

FRANK: My name is Frederick and Flavio and Fritz and Felix.

COMPANION: My name is Jan and Jonas and Jasper and Jammet.

FRANK and the COMPANION turn to face the audience, side by side. 

FRANK: My name is forgotten by every living being. I have lost my legs and arms.

COMPANION: The mustard gas in my lungs still burns even though my lungs were eaten by worms.“

 

 

Dermot Bolger (Dublin, 6 februari 1959)

 

Doorgaan met het lezen van “Dermot Bolger, Felix Mitterer, Heinz Kahlau, Thomas von Steinaecker, Annelies Verbeke, Pramoedya Ananta Toer, John Henry Mackay”

Irmgard Keun, Ernst Wilhelm Lotz, Ugo Foscolo, Wilhelm Schmidtbonn, Alfred Mombert, Christopher Marlowe, Sergio Corazzini

De Duitse schrijfster Irmgard Keun werd geboren op 6 februari 1905 in Charlottenburg. Zie ook mijn blog van 6 februari 2007 en ook mijn blog van 6 februari 2009 en ook mijn blog van 6 februari 2010.

 

Die fremde Stadt  

 

Fremde Stadt,

Ich liebe dich um deiner Fremdheit willen.

Du könntest das Verlangen nach Verlorenem mir stillen,

Nach dem, was ich verließ.

Laß mich vollenden, was ich einst verhieß;

Einmal als Kind.

Laß mich noch einmal sein, wie Kinder sind,

Die eines Menschen Fuß noch nicht getreten hat,

Fremde Stadt.

Berge mich hinter deinen Mauern,

Fremde Stadt.

Laß mich in deiner Sicherheit trauern,

Fremde Stadt,

Nur eine Stunde,

Nur kurze Zeit.

Hunger und Hunde

Jagen das Leid,

Jage nicht du mich auch, fremde Stadt.

Laß mich ruhn unter deines Himmels Regen,

Fremdes Land.

Gott gab dir den Himmel, mir gab er den Segen

Für dich, fremdes Land.

Nur eine Stunde, nur kurze Zeit

Wärme uns Arme die Ewigkeit:

Der Himmel über dir, fremdes Land.

 

 

Irmgard Keun (6 februari 1905 – 5 mei 1982)

Keun in 1933

 

Doorgaan met het lezen van “Irmgard Keun, Ernst Wilhelm Lotz, Ugo Foscolo, Wilhelm Schmidtbonn, Alfred Mombert, Christopher Marlowe, Sergio Corazzini”