Sara Teasdale, Hieronymus van Alphen, Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, Zofia Kossak-Szczucka, Hitomi Kanehara, Flavia Bujor, Franco Biondi, Reinhold Hauschka

De Amerikaanse dichteres Sara Teasdale werd geboren op 8 augustus 1884 in St. Louis. Zie ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2007 en ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2008 en ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2009  en ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2010

 

Because

Oh, because you never tried
To bow my will or break my pride,
And nothing of the cave-man made
You want to keep me half afraid,
Nor ever with a conquering air
You thought to draw me unaware —
Take me, for I love you more
Than I ever loved before.

And since the body’s maidenhood
Alone were neither rare nor good
Unless with it I gave to you
A spirit still untrammeled, too,
Take my dreams and take my mind
That were masterless as wind;
And “Master!” I shall say to you
Since you never asked me to.

 

 

Gray Eyes

It was April when you came
The first time to me,
And my first look in your eyes
Was like my first look at the sea.

We have been together
Four Aprils now
Watching for the green
On the swaying willow bough;

Yet whenever I turn
To your gray eyes over me,
It is as though I looked
For the first time at the sea.

 

 

Sara Teasdale (8 augustus 1884 – 29 januari 1933)

 

De Nederlandse dichter en schrijver Hieronymus van Alphenwerd op 8 augustus 1746 geboren te Gouda. Zie ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2006 en ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2007 en ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2008 enook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2009 en ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2010

   

De gezondheid

Gezondheid is een grote schat
Om vergenoegd te leven.
Ofschoon ik grote rijkdom had,
Wat voordeel zou het geven,
Zo ik, doorknaagd van angst en pijn,
Mij zelve tot een last moest zijn.

Maar zou ik dan mijn Vaders raad
Niet ijverig betrachten?
En gulzigheid en overdaad
Niet mijden en verachten?
Die nooit genoeg heeft voor zijn mond,
Leeft zelden vrolijk en gezond.

 

 

De ware vriendschap

Een vriend, die mij mijn feilen toont,
Gestreng bestraft, en nooit verschoont,
Heeft op mijn hart een groot vermogen;-
Maar…`t laag gemoed, dat altoos vleit,
Verdenk ik van baatzuchtigheid;-
Ik kan zijn bijzijn niet gedogen.
Die zelden prijst, spreekt vriendentaal:
Die altoos vleit, liegt menigmaal.


Hieronymus van Alphen (8 augustus 1746 – 2 april 1803)

 

 

De Amerikaanse schrijfster Marjorie Kinnan Rawlingswerd geboren op 8 augustus 1896 in Washington. Zie ook

mijn blog van 8 augustus 2009 en ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2010

Uit: The Yearling

 

“They watched after him indifferently. They were a sorry pair, he thought, good for nothing but the chase, the catch and the kill. They had no interest in him except when he brought them their plates of table scraps night and morning. Old Julia was a gentle thing with humans, but her worn-toothed devotion was only for his father, Penny Baxter. Jody had tried to make up to Julia, but she would have none of him.

“You was pups together,” his father told him, “ten year gone, when you was two year old and her a baby. You hurted the leetle thing, not meanin’ no harm. She cain’t bring herself to trust you. Hounds is often that-a-way.”

He made a circle around the sheds and corn-crib and cut south through the black-jack. He wished he had a dog like Grandma Hutto’s. It was white and curly-haired and did tricks. When Grandma Hutto laughed and shook and could not stop, the dog jumped into her lap and licked her face, wagging its plumed tail as though it laughed with her. He would like anything that was his own; that licked his face and followed him as old Julia followed his father. He cut into the sand road and began to run east. It was two miles to the Glen, but it seemed to Jody that he could run forever. There was no ache in his legs, as when he hoed the corn. He slowed down to make the road last longer. He had passed the big pines and left them behind. Where he walked now, the scrub had closed in, walling in the road with dense sand pines, each one so thin it seemed to the boy it might make kindling by itself. The road went up an incline. At the top he stopped. The April sky was framed by the tawny sand and the pines. It was as blue as his homespun shirt, dyed with Grandma Hutto’s indigo. Small clouds were stationary, like bolls of cotton. As he watched, the sunlight left the sky a moment and the clouds were gray.

 

 


Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings (8 augustus 1896 – 14 december 1953)

 

 

De Poolse schrijfster Zofia Kossak-Szczuckawerd geboren op 8 augustus 1890 in Kośmin.  Zie ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2007 en ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2010

Uit: Protest

 

“In the Warsaw Ghetto, behind walls separating it from the outside world, several hundred thousand condemned are awaiting death. There is no hope for any rescue, no help comes. Streets are patrolled by executioners, who fire at anyone who dares to leave his house. They also fire at anyone standing by the windows. On pavements rot unburied human corpses.

Daily shipments as ordered by the authorities are set at 8-10 thousand of victims. Jewish policemen are ordered to deliver them into the hands of German executioners. If they fail, they will be killed. Children unable to walk by themselves are loaded on wagons. The loading process is so cruel, that only a small number of them reaches the railway platform alive. Mothers seeing it go insane. The number of the insane from despair and horror equals the number of the shot-down.

There are railcars waiting at the platform. The executioners are forcibly packing over 150 captives in each one. Thick layers of lime and chlorine are put on the floor of railcars and splashed with water. The doors of the railcar are securely bolted. Trains sometimes start immediately after the load, however sometimes wait one or two days on the side rail… No one cares. Of the people packed so densely that the dead cannot fall down and are standing arm to arm with the living, of the people dying of the lime and chlorine gases, without air, a drop of water, without food – noone will survive. These death-trains, whenever and wherever they arrive will bring only dead bodies.”.

 

 

Zofia Kossak-Szczucka (8 augustus 1890 – 9 april 1968)

 

 

 

Zie voor onderstaande schrijvers ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2010

 

De Japanse schrijfster Hitomi Kaneharawerd geboren op 8 augustus 1983 in Tokyo. Zie ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2007 en ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2009.

 

De Franse schrijfster Flavia Bujorwerd geboren op 8 augustus 1988 in Roemenië. Zie ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2007.

 

De Duitstalige schrijver Franco Biondi werd geboren op 8 augustus 1947 in Forli in Italië. Zie ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2009.

 

De Duitse dichter en schrijver Reinhold Hauschka werd geboren op 8 augustus 1926 in Aussig in Bohemen. Zie ook mijn blog van 8 augustus 2009.