Ernesto Sabato, Lucille Clifton

De Argentijnse schrijver Ernesto Sabato werd op 24 juni 1911 geboren in Rojas, een dorp in de provincie Buenos Aires. Zie ook alle tags voor Ernesto Sabato op dit blog.

Uit: The Resistance (Vertaald door D. Ohmans)

“I cannot but remember that same effect it produces on insects, and even on the large
animals. And then, it is not only difficult to leave it, but we also lose the everyday capacity to look and see. A street with enormous tipa-trees, some innocent eyes in the face of an old woman, the clouds of an afternoon. The flowering of aromas in mid-winter is not noticed by those who do not even enjoy the jacarandás of Buenos Aires. It has often surprised me how we
see the landscapes better in the movies than in reality.
It is urgent to reconnect with the commons spaces that prevent us from being a massified multitude isolatedly watching television. What is paradoxical is that through that screen we seem to be connected with the entire world, when in truth it removes the possibility of humanly cohabiting, and what is equally serious, predisposes us to apathy. I have said ironically in many interviews that “television is the opiate of the people,” modifying Marx’s famous phrase. But I believe it, one becomes lethargic in front of the screen, and while finding nothing of what one seeks, they stay there anyway, incapable of rising and doing something good. It takes away the desire to work on some
artisanry, read a book, fix something in the house while listening to music or drinking maté. Or going to the bar with some friend, or conversing with your own. It is a tedium, a boredom to which we accustom ourselves “for lack of something better.” Being monotonously seated before the television
anesthetizes the senses, makes the mind slow-witted, harms the soul.
The senses of the human being are closing, every time requiring more intensity, like the deaf. We do not see what does not have the illumination of the screen, nor do we hear that which does not come to us charged with decibels, nor do we smell perfumes. Now not even flowers have it.
Something that affects me terribly is noise. There are afternoons when we walk blocks and blocks before finding a place to have a coffee in peace. And it is not that we finally find a quiet bar, but that we resign ourselves to asking, please could they turn off the television, something they do completely willingly for me, yet I ask, what do persons who live in this city of 13 million inhabitants do to find a place to talk to a friend? What I describe happens to everyone, and most especially to true lovers of music, or does one think they prefer to hear it while all talk of different themes and by shouting? In every café there is, either a television, or a musical apparatus at full volume. If everyone complained like me, energetically, things would begin to change. I ask whether the people are aware of the damage it does to the hearing, or is it that they have been convinced how advanced it is to speak in shouts. In many units one hears the neighbor’s television, as if we respect each other so little?”

 

Ernesto Sabato (24 juni 1911 – 30 april 2011)

 

De Amerikaanse dichteres en schrijfster Lucille Clifton werd geboren in New York op 27 juni 1936. Zie ook alle tags voor Lucille Clifton op dit blog.

Vermaningen

jongens
Ik beloof jullie niets
behalve dit
wat je verpandt
zal ik terugkopen
wat je steelt
zal ik verbergen
mijn persoonlijke stilte
bij jou publieke schuld
is alles wat ik heb

meisjes
de eerste keer dat een blanke man
zijn broek opent
als was het iets goeds
zullen we gewoon lachen
lach heel hard mijn
zwarte vrouwen

kinderen
wanneer ze jullie vragen
waarom is jullie moeder zo grappig
zeg
ze is een dichter
ze heeft geen verstand

 

Vertaald door Frans Roumen

 

Lucille Clifton
(27 juni 1936 – 13 februari 2010)

 

Zie voor nog meer schrijvers van de 24e juni ook mijn blog van 24 juni 2019 en ook mijn blog van 24 juni 2018 deel 1 en eveneens deel 2.