Michael Longley, Marijke Höweler, Theodore Dreiser, Hilde Domin, Julien Gracq, Hilaire Belloc, Vladimir Korolenko, Eimear McBride, Graeme C. Simsion

De Ierse dichter Michael Longley werd geboren op 27 juli 1939 in Belfast. Zie ook alle tags voor Michael Longley op dit blog en ook mijn blog van 27 juli 2010.

Saint Francis To The Birds

And, summing up, I think of when
With cloud and cloudburst you confer,
By God’s sheer genius lifted there,
Lighthearted starling, nervous wren.
It is perfection you rehearse –
God placed the limpet on a rock,
He dressed the primrose in its frock
upside down with its leg showing
And closed the chestnut in its purse:
Creating one more precedent,
With no less forethought, no less care
He gave you feathers and the air
To migrate to his best intent.
To useful angles well aligned,
At proper heights compelled to tilt,
Across kind landscapes yearly spilt –
Birds, you are always on his mind.
Quick emblems of his long estate,
It’s good to have you overhead
Who understand when all is said,
When all is done, and it is late.
May my sermon, like your customs,
Reach suddenly beyond dispute –
Oh, birds entire and absolute,
Last birds above our broken homes.



You give me cloudberry jam from Lapland,
Bog amber, snow-line titbits, scrumptious
Cloudberries sweetened slowly by the cold,
And costly enough for cloudberry wars
(Diplomatic wars, my dear).
Imagine us
Among the harvesters, keeping our distance
In sphagnum fields on the longest day
When dawn and dusk like frustrated lovers
Can kiss, legend has it, once a year. Ah,
Kisses at our age, cloudberry kisses.

Michael Longley (Belfast, 27 juli 1939)

Doorgaan met het lezen van “Michael Longley, Marijke Höweler, Theodore Dreiser, Hilde Domin, Julien Gracq, Hilaire Belloc, Vladimir Korolenko, Eimear McBride, Graeme C. Simsion”

Dan Coman

De Roemeense dichter en schrijver Dan Coman werd geboren op 27 juli 1975 in Gersa in de provincie Bistrita-Nasaud. Coman debuteerde in 1993 in het Minerva-magazine. Hij studeerde filosofie in Cluj (afgestudeerd in 1999). Hij publiceerde poëzie in de meeste van de belangrijke literaire tijdschriften in Roemenië. Voor zijn eerste bundel “Het jaar van de gele moedervlek” (Engels: “The Year of the Yellow Mole: , ontving hij de “Mihai Eminescu” Nationale Poëzieprijs en de Debuutprijs van de Roemeense Schrijversunie.In 2007 hield hij een gedichtenlezing, in het Frans vertaald door Linda Maria Baros, in Parijs, en in 2009 nam hij deel aan een poëzie- en vertaalworkshop in Zweden. In 2010 ontving hij een studiebeurs voor literatuur uitgereikt door Akademie Schloss Solitude. Coman heeft ook enkele goed ontvangen prozawerken gepubliceerd: “Irezistibil” (“Onweerstaanbaar”, 2010); “Parohia” (“De parochie”, 2012); en “Căsnicie” (“Huwelijk”, 2015). Zijn gedichten zijn vertaald en gepubliceerd in anthologieën en tijdschriften in Roemenië, Zweden, Frankrijk, de VS, Servië, Hongarije, Slovenië en Canada.


The New Mornings

several times a week there are new mornings
mornings that seem as good as any other
if they don’t quite reach a meter’s height

some educational cubes for children under one

coffee no longer fits in
tobacco no longer leaves the mouth and
our love sits close between us like a cow
shedding its hair

mara walks here
walks all sorts of small bodies
for whom the air is just a toy
to push quickly-quickly in the nose

these are new mornings
powdered milk rolls all over the length of them
a chicco sun ticks endlessy over their width

these are new mornings

a meter above them
our large bodies float already belly-up


Biscuits with apple sauce

i stay with mara at the window.
a beautiful winter’s day
it snows as we eat biscuits with apple sauce
not saying a thing.
each with the whole winter morning before us.
sometimes we stop eating and
press our noses to the glass
we stay that way without saying a thing
breath warms my face slowly
and slowly-slowly mara’s breath
spreads warmth throughout the park


Vertaald door Martin Woodside en Ioana Ieronim

Dan Coman (Gersa, 27 juli 1975)

Elizabeth Hardwick

De Amerikaanse schrijfster en literatuurcritica Elizabeth Hardwick werd geboren op 27 juli 1916 in Lexington, Kentucky, in een strikt protestantse familie. Ze studeerde af aan de Universiteit van Kentucky in 1939. In 1947 verwierf zij een Guggenheim Fellowship. In 1959 publiceerde Hardwick in Harper’s, “The Decline of Book Reviewing”, een over het algemeen harde en zelfs vernietigende kritiek op boekrecensies die in Amerikaanse tijdschriften van die tijd werden gepubliceerd. De krantenstaking uit 1962 in New York City heeft Hardwick, Robert Lowell, Jason Epstein, Barbara Epstein en Robert B. Silvers geïnspireerd om “The New York Review of Books” op te richten, een publicatie die voor veel lezers net zo gewoon werd als The New York Times Book Review die Hardwick in haar essay in 1959 aan flarden had gescheurd. In de jaren zeventig en het begin van de jaren tachtig gaf Hardwick lezingen aan het Barnard College en aan Columbia University’s School of the Arts, Writing Division. Zij leverde openhartig kritiek op het schrijven van de studenten, maar was een mentor voor studenten die zij als veelbelovend beschouwde. Van 1949 tot 1972 was zij getrouwd met de dichter Robert Lowell, met wie zij een dochter kreeg. Zij werd gekozen tot Fellow van de Amerikaanse Academie van Kunsten en Wetenschappen in 1996. In 2008 selecteerde The Library of America het verhaal van Hardwick over de misdaden van Caryl Chessman voor opname in een retrospectief over twee eeuwen schrijven over American True Crime. Hardwick schreef drie romans: “The Ghostly Lover” (1945), “The Simple Truth” (1955) en “Sleepless Nights” (1979). Een bundel met korte verhalen, “The New York Stories van Elizabeth Hardwick”, werd in 2010 gepubliceerd. Ze publiceerde ook vier boeken met kritieken: “A View of My Own” (1962), “Seduction and Betrayal” (1974), “Bartleby in Manhattan” (1983) en “Sight-Readings” (1998). In 1961 stelde zij “The Selected Letters of William James” samen en in 2000 publiceerde ze een korte biografie, “Herman Melville”, in de Penguin Lives-serie van Viking Press

Uit: Seduction and Beayal

“For his own part the Reverend Brontë disowned claims to flamboyance and said: “I do not deny that I am somewhat eccentric…. Only don’t set me on in my fury to burning hearthrugs, sawing the backs off chairs and tearing my wife’s silk gowns.” There were five daughters and one son in the Bronte fam-ily, and the father unluckily placed his hopes in his son, Branwell. It is only by accident that we know about people like Branwell who seemed destined for the arts, unable to work at anything else, and yet have not the talent, the tenac-ity, or the discipline to make any kind of sustained creative effort. With great hopes and at bitter financial sacrifice, Bran-well was sent up to London to study painting at the Academy Schools. The experience was wretched for him and he seemed to have sensed his lack of preparation, his uncertain dedi-cation, his faltering will. He never went to the school, did not present his letters of introduction, and spent his money in taverns drinking gin. It finally became necessary to return home in humiliation and to pretend that he had been robbed. One story has poor Branwell visiting the National Gallery and, in the presence of the great paintings there, despairing of his own talents. This is hard to credit, since the example of the great is seldom a deterrent to the mediocre. In any case, nothing leads us to think Branwell lacked vanity or expansive ideas of his own importance. Also, the deterrent of Branwell’s own nature made any further impediments unnecessary. His nature was hysterical, addictive, self-indulgent. Very early he fell under the spell of alcohol and opium; his ravings and mis-eries destroyed the family peace, absorbed their energies, and depressed their spirits. He had to be talked to, watched over, soothed, and protected—and nothing really availed. Branwell destroyed his life with drugs and drink, and died of a bronchial infection at the age of thirty-one. Perhaps the true legacy Branwell left the world is to be found in the extraordinary violence of feeling, the elaborate language of bitterness and frustration in Wuthering Heights. It is not unreasonable to see the origin of some of Heathcliff’s raging disappointment and disgust in Branwell’s own excited sense of injury and betrayal. Emily Brontë took toward her brother an attitude of stoical pity and protectiveness. Char-lotte was, on the other hand, in despair at his deterioration, troubled by his weaknesses, and condemning of the pain he brought to the household. It is significant that Charlotte insisted Branwell did not know of the publication of his sisters’ poems, nor of the composition of Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, and Agnes Grey.”

Elizabeth Hardwick (27 juli 1916 – 2 december 2007)