Bodenski, James Jones, Galaktion Tabidze, Jonas Lie, Johannes Jörgensen

De Duitse dichter, componist en musicus Bodenski (eig. Michael Boden) werd geboren op 6 november 1965 in Potsdam. Zie ook mijn blog van 6 november 2008 en ook mijn blog van 6 november 2010

 

Ein Baum

Ich schneide mir das Haar nicht mehr,
horch wie mir Blätter treiben.
Der Wald pflanzt Hölzer in mein Herz,
ich streck die Arme himmelwärts,
um immer hier zu bleiben.

Die Nägel senken sich hinein
ins Reich der Mutter Erde.
Schon krümmt und bricht sich mir die Haut,
hab Sand und Steine viel verdaut,
dass ich so müde werde.

Ein Baum, mit Käfern im Gesicht,
mit Moos in meinem Haar,
die Haut so hart wie Stein.

Durch meine Finger geht der Wind,
war`s gestern, war es heute.
Den Winter lang werd ich nicht wach,
ein Specht klopft an mein Schädeldach
und hofft auf fette Beute.

Mein Haupt wird grün, der Sommer kommt
mit Tautropfen und Regen.
Ein Zittern geht durch meinen Stamm,
ich hör sie schon, sie kommen an
die Männer mit den Sägen.

Ein Baum, mit Käfern im Gesicht
mit Moos in meinem Haar,
die Haut so hart wie Stein.


Bodenski (Potsdam, 6 november 1965)

 

De Amerikaanse schrijver James Jones werd geboren op 6 november 1921 in Robinson, Illinois. Zie ook mijn blog van 6 november 2008 en ook mijn blog van 6 november 2009 en ook mijn blog van 6 november 2010

 

Uit: From Here to Eternity

“Lissen,” he said. He stabbed his finger at the big white bulk of Tommy. “You’re queer as a three dollar bill. How did you get to be queer? What made you queer, anyway?”
Tommy’s dark eyes that behind the deep purple circles never seemed to focus on anything at all, were on him now and focused, and they became brighter and brighter as he watched them.
“I’ve always been that way,” Tommy said. “I was born that way.”
“Like to talk about it, don’t you?” Prew grinned. He felt the silence of both Hal and Maggio behind him and knew that they were watching him.
“No,” Tommy said. “I hate to talk about it. It was a tragedy, being born that way.” He was smiling now and breathing fast, smiling painfully the way a broken dog does when you pat him.
“Balls,” Prew said. “Nobody’s born that way. When was the first time you went down on anybody?”
“When I was ten,” Tommy said, talking swiftly now, almost joyously. “I was going to a military school in New York, my parents were divorced and my mother sent me there, a bunch of upperclassmen got,—oh a whole bunch of them, there must have been twelve at least,” Tommy’s eyes were brighter and his voice was going faster, hardly space between the words to breathe, “—they got me out and tied me up, and beat me, they made me go down on all twelve of them, one right after another, and they beat me till I did it.”

 

Burt Lancaster en Deborah Kerr in de film uit 1953

 

Prew watched him talking, his big body jerking nervously in the chair, as if under a whip.
“I don’t believe that,” Prew snarled. “I bet that wasn’t the first time. Because lissen, they could of killed me and I wouldn’t of ever done it. If they did it, they did it because you wanted them to do it. No matter how much you tried to fight. You wanted to be beaten, and you wanted to be evil.”
Hal moved from beside Maggio and stepped toward the other two. “That’s a lie,” he said.
“It’s true,” Tommy whispered. “It wasn’t the first time. But it was the first important time. I did want it. Do you hate me?”
“No,” Prew said, contemptuously. “Why should I hate you?”

“But you do. You’re contemptuous of me. Aren’t you? Aren’t you? You think I’m evil.”
“No. You’re the one that thinks you’re evil. That’s what I think. I don’t think you’re evil. I think you like to do anything you think is evil, the eviller the better, and the better you will like it. Maybe it’s because you can show how much you hate the church.”

 


James Jones (6 november 1921 – 9 mei 1977)

 

De Georgische diichter en schrijver Galaktion Tabidze werd geboren op 6 november 1891 in Chqvishi, in de buurt van Vani. Zie ook mijn blog van 6 november 2008 en ook mijn blog van 6 november 2009 en ook mijn blog van 6 november 2010

Snow Fell On Winter Gardens

Snow fell on winter gardens,

a coffin was brought out

and the standards unfolded

caught by the dishevelled breeze.

The roadway was desolate,

without form and without shape.

One more coffin was brought out…

The raven’s exhortation:

Let the bells toll! Bury them!

Snow fell on winter gardens.

Let the Banners Wave on High!

The day has dawned: A sun of fire glides up…

Let the banners wave on high!

The soul’s athirst for Liberty and Right

As wounded deer that seek a streamlet bright.

Let the banners wave on high!

Glory to those with souls devoid of fear,

Who for the people’s cause did bravely die…

Their names shine bright like torches in the night…

Let the banners wave on high!

Glory to him who fills our hearts with hope,

Braves foes with matchless worth and fearless eye!

The day has dawned! United let us fight!

Let Freedom’s banner over us wave on high!

 

Vertaald door PJ Hillery

 

Galaktion Tabidze (6 november 1891 – 17 maart 1959)

 

De Noorse schrijver Jonas Laurits Idemil Lie werd geboren op 6 november 1833 in Eiker bij Drammen. Zie ook mijn blog van 6 november 2008 en ook mijn blog van 6 november 2010

 

Uit: One of Life’s Slaves (Vertaald door J. Muir)

„Yet Society has, as we know, a wonderful faculty for making use of, assimilating and reconstructing everything, even the apparently most meaningless and useless, for its own purpose. And the way it took, quickly enough, with poor Barbara was that she became the only thing in which she could be of any service in the town–namely, a nurse.

It was a sad time and a hard struggle while the shame lasted, almost enough to kill her; and after that, she never thought of returning to the Heimdal mountains again.

But things were to be still harder.

The various social claims, which an age of progress increasingly lays upon the lady of the house in the upper classes of society, asserted themselves here in the town by an ever increasing demand for nurses.

“The reason,” as Dr. Schneibel explained, “was simply a law of Nature–you can’t be a milch-cow and an intelligent human being at the same time. The renovation of blood and nerves must be artificially
conveyed from that class of society which stands nearer to Nature.”

And now the thing was to find an extra-healthy, thoroughly strong nurse for Consul-General Veyergang’s two delicate, newly-arrived, little ones. Dr. Schneibel had very thoughtfully kept a nurse in reserve for Mrs. Veyergang–“a really remarkable specimen of the original healthiness in the common stock. One might say–h’m, h’m–that if Mrs. Veyergang could not get to the mountains, the mountains were so courteous as to come to her. The girl still had an odour of the cowshed about her perhaps; but
when all’s said and done, that was only a stronger assurance of originality. And _that_ is an important factor in our day, madam, when milk is adulterated even from the very cows themselves.–Quite young, scarcely twenty!”

Barbara Högden had not the faintest suspicion, as she carried water and wood, or stood at the edge of the ice beating linen, or did any drudgery she could find to do, in order to earn a little money to pay for herself and her baby at the tinsmith’s, that, from her deepest degradation, she had risen at one step to the rank of an exceptionally sought-after and esteemed person in the town.“

 


Jonas Lie (6 november 1833 – 5 juli 1908)

 

De Deense schrijver Johannes Jörgensen werd geboren in Svendborg op 6 november 1866 geboren. Zie ook mijn blog van 6 november 2008 en ook mijn blog van 6 november 2010

 

Uit: St. Francis and His Brethren (Vertaald door T. O’Conor Sloane)

„It was April 23, the feastof the martyr St. George, and the young man betook himself to St. George’s church to hear mass. Thence he tookthe direct road down to Portiuncula, where he knew thatSt. Francis would keep himself. At the hospital of S. Salvatore degli Pareti the road forks, and Giles prayed God thathe might select the right one. His prayer was heard, forafter wandering about a while he approached a wood and saw Francis coming out of it. Giles at once cast himself atthe feet of Francis and begged to be received into the Brotherhood. But Francis looked at Giles’ pious young face, raisedhim up and said:
” Dearest brother, God has shown you a wonderful favor!For if the Emperor were to come to Assisi and wished to makeone of the citizens his knight or his chamberlain, then wouldthe citizen be greatly rejoiced. How much more should yourejoice, whom God has chosen as his true knight and servantand to maintain the holy evangelical perfection.”
And he took him to the place where the other Brothers werekeeping themselves and presented him to them with thesewords: “The Lord our God has sent us a new good Brother.Let us therefore rejoice in the Lord and eat together incharity.”
But after the meal was ended, Francis and Giles went up toAssisi to obtain cloth for the new Brother’s habit. On theway an old woman met them and asked for alms. ThenFrancis turned around towards Brother Giles and said tohim, as he looked at him “with an angel’s expression”:

 

Johannes Jørgensen (6 november 1866 – 29 mei 1956)