Bernard Malamud, Vincente Alexandre, Leo Stilma, Hannelies Taschau, Theun de Vries

De Amerikaanse schrijver Bernard Malamud werd op 26 april 1914 in Brooklyn, New York, geboren. Zie ook alle tags voor Bernard Malamud op dit blog. 

Uit: The Natural

“The Natural PRE-GAME Roy Hobbs pawed at the glass before thinking to prick a match with his thumbnail and hold the spurting flame in his cupped palm close to the lower berth window, but by then he had figured it was a tunnel they were passing through and was no longer surprised at the bright sight of himself holding a yellow light over his head, peering back in. As the train yanked its long tail out of the thundering tunnel, the kneeling reflection dissolved and he felt a splurge of freedom at the view of the moon-hazed Western hills bulked against night broken by sprays of summer lightning, although the season was early spring. Lying back, elbowed up on his long side, sleepless still despite the lulling train, he watched the land flowing and waited with suppressed expectancy for a sight of the Mississippi, a thousand miles away. Having no timepiece he appraised the night and decided it was moving toward dawn. As he was looking, there flowed along this bone-white farmhouse with sagging skeletal porch, alone in untold miles of moonlight, and before it this white-faced, long-boned boy whipped with train-whistle yowl a glowing ball to someone hidden under a dark oak, who shot it back without thought, and the kid once more wound and returned. Roy shut his eyes to the sight because if it wasn’t real it was a way he sometimes had of observing himself, just as in this dream he could never shake off–that had hours ago waked him out of sound sleep–of him standing at night in a strange field with a golden baseball in his palm that all the time grew heavier as he sweated to settle whether to hold onor fling it away. But when he had made his decision it was too heavy to lift or let fall (who wanted a hole that deep?) so he changed his mind to keep it and the thing grew fluffy light, a white rose breaking out of its hide, and all but soared off by itself, but he had already sworn to hang on forever.As dawn tilted the night, a gust of windblown rain blinded him–no, there was a window–but the sliding drops made him thirsty and from thirst sprang hunger. He reached into the hammock for his underwear to be first at breakfast in the dining car and make his blunders of ordering and eating more or less in private, since it was doubtful Sam would be up to tell him what to do.”

Bernard Malamud (26 april 1914 – 18 maart 1986)
Cover met Robert Redford (Het boek werd in 1984 verfilmd)

Doorgaan met het lezen van “Bernard Malamud, Vincente Alexandre, Leo Stilma, Hannelies Taschau, Theun de Vries”

Hertha Kräftner, Arno Holz, Mesa Selimović, Margreet van Hoorn, Johann Uhland, Joanne Gobure

De Oostenrijkse dichteres en schrijfster Hertha Kräftner werd geboren op 26 april 1928 in Wenen. Zie ook alle tags voor Hertha Kräftner op dit blog.

Suche nicht! Du wirst verlieren

Suche nicht! Du wirst verlieren.
Treibe hin und lächle nur den Dingen.
Derer, die in deinem Haar sich fingen,
sind viel mehr, als je dein Singen
locken konnte. Ungesucht wirst du die
Welt in deinem Schoße spüren.


Ich ging vorbei am Tränenstrauch

Ich ging vorbei am Tränenstrauch
Und gab nicht acht,
da stach ein Dorn mich in die Seite.

Sie sagen, wem das widerfuhr,
der weinte Tag und Nacht
um das, woran er eben gedacht,
als der Dorn ins Fleisch ihm fuhr.

Ich ging vorbei am Tränenstrauch
und hab an Dich gedacht,
da stach der Dorn in meine Seite.

Hertha Kräftner (26 april 1928 – 13 november 1951)

Doorgaan met het lezen van “Hertha Kräftner, Arno Holz, Mesa Selimović, Margreet van Hoorn, Johann Uhland, Joanne Gobure”