Wulf Kirsten, Frans de Cort, Patrick Lowie, Henry S. Taylor, Mary McCarthy, Aleksandr Tvardovsky, Fyodor Gladkov

De Duitse dichter, schrijver en uitgever Wulf Kirsten werd geboren op 21 juni 1934 in Klipphausen bij Meißen. Zie ook alle tags voor Wulf Kirsten op dit blog.

KURFÜRSTENDAMM

Eisenzahnstraße, abgewinkelten arms.
emaille. gingkobäumchen in reih und glied.
astlos. vorübergehend an pfähle gebunden,
laufen neben den passanten her. so tun,
als ob. und wie sie marschieren.
pomologie, preußisch gedrillt. flexibel
gekrümmt bogenlaternen, eisenkunstguß.
nostalgisch verschnörkelt.
die geschmacksbildende idee alternierend
und eine spur zu absichtlich
zwischen die baumschulflüchter gesetzt.
abgeplatzte platanenrinde: heißt das,
ich soll entziffern, was die urbanisierte
natur mir achtlos vor die füße wirft?
eingemummt in ein giftgrünes brillengestell
die bankbesetzerin und ihr ausgesperrtes
eigentum. hinter einem wall sparriger
bündel das sperrgut mitten auf der avenue.
die einzige und ihr eigentum. anschauungs-
modell. sorgsam verschnürt und gehütet.
die geheimnisse des lebens. fremdbestimmt.
die krümel teilt sie mit den tauben, fittich,
fußkrank und stahlblau. ein ausgewildertes
team. gut eingespielt. auf einem endlosband
gestreckt fassadenfrohes grafitti-esperanto.
der mauerabtrag von spechten handlich
geklopft, oder waren die heiligen brocken
bloß auf feindwall getrimmt? verhökert
an einer straßenecke in Berlin.

 
Wulf Kirsten (Klipphausen, 21 juni 1934)
De Kurfürstendamm in Berlijn

Doorgaan met het lezen van “Wulf Kirsten, Frans de Cort, Patrick Lowie, Henry S. Taylor, Mary McCarthy, Aleksandr Tvardovsky, Fyodor Gladkov”

Ian McEwan, Alon Hilu, Françoise Sagan, Wulf Kirsten, Frans de Cort

De Britse schrijver Ian McEwan werd op 21 juni 1948 geboren in de Engelse garnizoensplaats Aldershot. Zie ook alle tags voor Ian McEwan op dit blog.

 

Uit: Amsterdam

„The patch of lawn was strewn with flattened cigarette butts, for this was a place where people came to stand about and wait for the funeral party ahead of theirs to clear the building. As they strolled up and down, the two old friends resumed the conversation they had had in various forms a half-dozen times before but that gave them rather more comfort than singing “Pilgrim.”
Clive Linley had known Molly first, back when they were students in ’68 and lived together in a chaotic, shifting household in the Vale of Health.
“A terrible way to go.”
He watched his own vaporized breath float off into the gray air. The temperature in central London was said to be twelve degrees today. Twelve. There was something seriously wrong with the world for which neither God nor his absence could be blamed. Man’s first disobedience, the Fall, a falling figure, an oboe, nine notes, ten notes. Clive had the gift of perfect pitch and heard them descending from the G. There was no need to write them down.
He continued, “I mean, to die that way, with no awareness, like an animal. To be reduced, humiliated, before she could make arrangements, or even say goodbye. It crept up on her, and then . . .”
He shrugged. They came to the end of the trampled lawn, turned, and walked back.

“She would have killed herself rather than end up like that,” Vernon Halliday said. He had lived with her for a year in Paris in ’74, when he had his first job with Reuters and Molly did something or other for Vogue.
“Brain-dead and in George’s clutches,” Clive said.“

 


Ian McEwan (Aldershot, 21 juni 1948)

Doorgaan met het lezen van “Ian McEwan, Alon Hilu, Françoise Sagan, Wulf Kirsten, Frans de Cort”

Henry S. Taylor, Mary McCarthy, Aleksandr Tvardovsky, Fyodor Gladkov, Frans de Cort

 

De Amerikaanse dichter Henry S. Taylor werd geboren op 21 juni 1942 in Loudoun County, Virginia. Zie ook mijn blog van 21 uni 2009.

 

 

A Crosstown Breeze

 

A drift of wind

when August wheeled

brought back to mind

an alfalfa field

 

where green windrows

bleached down to hay

while storm clouds rose

and rolled our way.

 

With lighthearted strain

in our pastoral agon

we raced the rain

with baler and wagon,

 

driving each other

to hold the turn

out of the weather

and into the barn.

 

A nostalgic pause

claims we saved it all,

but I’ve known the loss

of the lifelong haul;

 

now gray concrete

and electric light

wear on my feet

and dull my sight.

 

So I keep asking,

as I stand here,

my cheek still basking

in that trick of air,

 

would I live that life

if I had the chance,

or is it enough

to have been there once?

 

 

Henry S. Taylor (Loudoun County, 21 juni 1942)

Doorgaan met het lezen van “Henry S. Taylor, Mary McCarthy, Aleksandr Tvardovsky, Fyodor Gladkov, Frans de Cort”