Ion Barbu, Rosalie Loveling, Tobias Smollett, Petar Preradović, Irving Wallace, Peter Abrahams

De Roemeense dichter en wiskundige Ion Barbu (eig. Dan Barbilian) werd geboren op 19 maart 1895 in Câmpulung. Zie ook mijn blog van 19 maart 2007 en ook mijn blog van 19 maart 2009 en ook mijn blog van 19 maart 2010.

Uvedenrode

At the ravine Uvedenrodes
So many gastropods!
Suprasexual,
Supramusical.

Gastropodists!
Such clear rhapsodists
Ode-singing modistes
The skies are all scarves
Antennae in harps.

Uvedenrodes
Over time, over modes—
Palinodes!

The hour, crystalline,
Next to virgin Geraldine!

Her lacy veil—
Flower of chain mail,

And through her arms—
Icebergs with charms!

To the sacred sun—
This song, bar none.

Ordered spire,
Sound,
Fruit of a lyre,
Ending  paralogical
Cradle mythological,
From the high spheres
You appear:
Oh knave of wave
Over the cavalcade,
The cave over it in an arcade!

Self contained lust,
A girl with a bust
Slides, but just
Once, then she slides
Twice, then nine times,
Until she feels
Light shivers and thrills
Until you spin her,
Gastropodal blur;

Until into many
Attentive antennae
You lower her down:

Like a pendulum rocks,
A useless box,
Under times,
Under modes,
In Uvedenrodes.

 

Ion Barbu (19 maart 1895 – 11 augustus 1961)

 

De Vlaamse schrijfster en dichteres Rosalie Loveling werd geboren op 19 maart 1834. Zie ook mijn blog van 19 maart 2007  en ook mijn blog van 19 maart 2009 en ook mijn blog van 19 maart 2010.

De Zaterdag Avond

De koelte van de avond
Verspreidt zich over ’t dal;
De koeien keren loeiend
Terug weer naar de stal.

De krekel ronkt in ’t lover,
De rietmus zingt niet meer;
De leeuwrik daalt in ’t koren
Weer op zijn nestje neer.

De velden in het ronde
Zijn duister reeds omhuld;
En lichte wolkjes zweven
In ’t Westen nog verguld.

De spade op brede schouder,
Vermoeid en uitgeput,
Keert thans de landman weder
Naar zijn geliefde hut.

’t Is Zaterdag. Verkwikkend
Is ’t scheemrig avonduur;
De vloer is rood, en ’t koper
Blinkt in de gloed van ’t vuur.

’t Zal morgen Zondag wezen:
De dag der rust is zacht
Voor hem, die heel de weke
In ’t werk heeft doorgebracht.

’t Is rustig in de velden,
En vrede is in ’t gemoed,
Dat, sterk door ’t rein geweten,
De rust niet vrezen moet.

 

Rosalie Loveling (19 maart 1834 – 4 mei 1875)

Gedenkplaat aan het geboortehuis van Rosalie en Virginie Loveling

 

 

 

De Schotse romanschrijver Tobias George Smollett werd geboren op 19 maart 1721 in Dalquhurn in het tegenwoordige West Dunbartonshire. Zie ook mijn blog van 19 maart 2009 en ook mijn blog van 19 maart 2010.

 

Uit: The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle

  

„The young Gentleman, having settled his domestic Affairs, arrives in London, and sets up a gay Equipage—He meets with Emilia, and is introduced to her Uncle.

His aunt, at the earnest solicitations of Julia and her husband, took up her quarters at the house of that affectionate kinswoman, who made it her chief study to comfort and cherish the disconsolate widow; and Jolter, in expectation of the living, which was not yet vacant, remained in garrison, in quality of land-steward upon our hero’s country estate. As for the lieutenant, our young gentleman communed with him in a serious manner, about the commodore’s proposal of taking Mrs. Trunnion to wife; and Jack, being quite tired of the solitary situation of a bachelor, which nothing but the company of his old commander could have enabled him to support so long, far from discovering aversion from the match, observed with an arch smile, that it was not the first time he had commanded a vessel in the absence of Captain Trunnion; and therefore, if the widow was willing, he would cheerfully stand by her helm, and, as he hoped the duty would not be of long continuance, do his endeavour to steer her safe into port, where the commodore might come on board, and take charge of her again.

In consequence of this declaration, it was determined that Mr. Hatchway should make his addresses to Mrs. Trunnion as soon as decency would permit her to receive them; and Mr. Clover and his wife promised to exert their influence on his behalf. Meanwhile, Jack was desired to live at the castle as usual, and assured, that it should be put wholly in his possession, as soon as he should be able to accomplish this matrimonial scheme.

When Peregrine had settled all these points to his own satisfaction, he took leave of all his friends, and, repairing to the great city, purchased a new chariot and horses, put Pipes and another lacquey into rich liveries, took elegant lodgings in Pall Mall, and made a most remarkable appearance among the people of fashion.“

 

 

Tobias Smollett (19 maart 1721  – 17 september 1771)

 

 

 

De Kroatische dichter en schrijver Petar Preradović werd geboren op 19 maart 1818 in het dorp Grabrovnica bij Virovitica. Zie ook mijn blog van 19 maart 2009.

Le coeur humain

Au coeur humain il manque toujours quelque chose,
il n’est jamais satisfait tout à fait.
Aussitôt a-t-il fait sien le but assigné
qu’il en germe mille désirs qui lui sont nouveaux. 

Méprisant le pain quotidien,
pourquoi brûle-t-il en sa poitrine
du désir ardent d’un cruel faucon,
qui toujours le frappe d’un bec affamé ?

Bien trop peu dure notre courte vie,
muselée entre berceau et tombeau.
Aussi mis en présence de la tombe

le coeur tremble-t-il toujours d’un même désir,
ressassant qu’il y a sur terre des délices
qui jamais ne basculeront avec lui dans la fosse !

Petar Preradović (19 maart 1818 – 18 augustus 1872)

Standbeeld in Zagreb

  

 

 

De Amerikaanse schrijver Irving Wallace werd geboren op 19 maart 1916 in Chicago, Illinois. Zie ook mijn blog van 19 maart 2007.

 

Uit: Japan’s Last Hope

 

„Radio Tokyo is on the air.

“News flash! News flash from Tokyo! The Imperial Headquarters announced at two thirty o’clock this afternoon that the Kamikaze Special Attack Corps has sunk one American battleship, three large transports, and damaged one battleship or cruiser in Leyte Gulf.

“Our six fliers successfully penetrated enemy fighter-plane defenses and headed for enemy transports, which were escorted by battleships and cruisers.

“One of our planes plunged into an American battleship, and just as the big ship shook from the impact, a second plane crashed into it. A huge fire soon enveloped the vessel. The four other planes raced toward the enemy transports. In swift succession they plunged into them, sinking three and setting ablaze another large ship, which last was seen emitting a pillar of black smoke.

“Among the six Kamikaze fliers who died in this attack, three men—Matsui, Terashima, and Kawashima—are not yet twenty years old. The spirit of these young fliers crash-diving on their objectives is admirable.”

This news report—typical of recent daily reports—discloses Japan’s last hope.

With Allied sea and air power slowly strangling Japan, the Tokyo war lords cast about for some last-resort weapon. They observed that Hitler had pulled one out of his ordnance hat; but that his V-1 and V-2 robot bombs, though frightening and damaging, were not enough to stop the Allies. They decided to go Hitler one better. They had human robot bombs.“

 

 

Irving Wallace (19 maart 1916 – 29 juni 1990)

 

 

 

De Zuid-Afrikaanse schrijver Peter Abrahams werd op 19 maart 1919 geboren in Vrededorp bij Johannesburg. Zie ook mijn blog van 19 maart 2007.

 

Uit: Mine Boy

 

‘For Xuma the day was strange. Stranger than any day he had ever known. There was the rumbling noise and the shouting and the explosions and the tremblings of the earth. And always the shouting indunas driving the men on to work. And over all those, the bitter eyes and hardness of the white man who had told him to push the truck when he did not know how.
It was the strangeness of it all that terrified him. And the look in the eyes of the other men who worked with him. He had seen that look before when he was at home on the farms . . . The eyes of these men were like the eyes of the sheep that did not know where to run when the dog barked. It was this that frightened him.
And when a lorry came the men jumped out of the road and ran like the sheep. Over all this the induna was like a shepherd with a spear. And the white man sat with folded arms. With another he had pushed the loaded truck up the incline. The path was narrow on which they had to walk and it was difficult to balance well. And the white man had shouted. ‘Hurry up!’ And the induna had taken up the shout. And one little truck after another, loaded with fine wet white sand, was pushed up the incline to where a new mine-dump was being built.”

 

 

Peter Abrahams (Vrededorp, 19 maart 1919)