Dolce far niente, Friedrich Hebbel, Václav Havel, Roberto Juarroz, K.L. Poll, Flann O’Brien, Sven Cooremans

Dolce far niente

 

 
In het Abramtsevo park door Ilya Ostroukhov, 1885

 

Herbstbild

Dies ist ein Herbsttag, wie ich keinen sah!
Die Luft ist still, als atmete man kaum,
Und dennoch fallen raschelnd, fern und nah,
Die schönsten Früchte ab von jedem Baum.

O stört sie nicht, die Feier der Natur!
Dies ist die Lese, die sie selber hält,
Denn heute löst sich von den Zweigen nur,
Was vor dem milden Strahl der Sonne fällt.

 


Friedrich Hebbel (18 maart 1813 – 13 december 1863)
Het Hebbelhaus (museum) in Wesselburen, de geboorteplaats van Friedrich Hebbel

 

De Tsjechische schrijver en politicus Václav Havel werd op 5 oktober 1936 in Praag geboren. Zie ook alle tags voor Václav Havel op dit blog.

Uit:The Power of the Powerless (Vertaald door Paul Wilson)

“Even this very superficial overview should make it clear that the system in which we live has very little in common with a classical dictatorship. In the first place, our system is not limited in a local, geographical sense; rather it holds sway over a huge power bloc controlled by one of the two superpowers. And although it quite naturally exhibits a number of local and historical variations, the range of these variations is fundamentally circumscribed by a single, unifying framework throughout the power bloc. Not only is the dictatorship everywhere based on the same principles and structured in the same way (that is, in the way evolved by the ruling superpower), but each country has been completely penetrated by a network of manipulatory instruments controlled by the superpower centre and totally subordinated to its interests. In the stalemated world of nuclear parity, of course, that circumstance endows the system with an unprecedented degree of external stability compared with classical dictatorships. Many local crises which, in an isolated state, would lead to a change in the system, can be resolved through direct intervention by the armed forces of the rest of the bloc. In the second place, if a feature of classical dictatorships is their lack of historical roots (frequently they appear to be no more than historical freaks, the fortuitous consequence of fortuitous social processes or of human and mob tendencies), the same cannot be said so facilely about our system. For even though our dictatorship has long since alienated itself completely from the social movements that gave birth to it, the authenticity of these movements (and I am thinking of the proletarian and socialist movements of the nineteenth century) give it undeniable historicity. These origins provided a solid foundation of sorts on which it could build until it became the utterly new social and political reality it is today, which has become so inextricably a part of the structure of the modern world. A feature of those historical origins was the ‘correct understanding’ of social conflicts in the period from which those original movements emerged.”

 
Václav Havel (5 oktober 1936 – 18 december 2011)
Cover van de Tsjechische uitgave

 

De Argentijnse dichter, essayist en literatuurwetenschapper Roberto Juarroz werd geboren in Coronel Dorrego op 5 oktober 1925. Zie ook alle tags voor Roberto Juarroz op dit blog.

IV, 44

Een enkele keer herlees ik mezelf.
Als ik dat doe,
lijkt mij wie dat schreef
achterop te zijn geraakt,
wie weet om te wachten tot ik terugkeer
of om van ver naar ons te kijken,
of daarna een dwarsweg te zijn ingeslagen
om verder weer bij ons te komen.

Jezelf herlezen is vaag vermoeden
dat het leven dat voorbij ging
elders op ons wacht,
tegendraads als een verloren zoon
die op de drempel staat te wachten
op de onwaarschijnlijke terugkomst van zijn vader.

Achter elk voorheen geschreven woord
doemen, als een stiekem volkje, alle woorden op
die wij niet opschrijven konden.
Daarom vindt wie zichzelf herleest,
veeleer dan de visioenen die wij waren,
de visioenen die vruchteloos aanspraak op ons maakten
maar met zonderlinge aandrang aanwezig bleven
als algen die zich hebben vastgezet
op wat wij halvelings begrijpend hebben vergaard.

Was de tijd niet opgebruikt,
dan loonde het misschien de moeite jezelf te herlezen
alleen al om die aankleefsels

 

Eighth.2

Words too fall to the ground,
like birds suddenly driven crazy
by their own movements,
like objects that suddenly lose their balance,
like men who stumble even when there’s no obstacle,
like dolls estranged by their own rigidity.

Then, the words themselves build a stairway
from the ground,
to climb up to human discourse,
to its stutter
or final sentence.

But some words remain forever fallen.
And sometimes we find such words
in an almost larval mimesis,
as if they knew someone were going to come
gather them up and build a new language,
a language made up entirely of fallen words.

 

Vertaald door Mariolein Sabarte Belacortu


Roberto Juarroz (5 oktober 1925 – 31 maart 1995)

 

De Amerikaanse dichter en criticus John Taggart werd geboren op 5 oktober 1942 in Guthrie Center, Iowa. Zie ook alle tags voor John Taggart op dit blog.

Precious Lord

2
The first time Mahalia does it as one interconnected phrase
she does it as three in one three words in one phrase
three in one: “take-en-n—my-ah-aah—ha-an-nd”
Mahalia does it in the same year in 1956 the same year as Aretha
same but different the second time it is more aggressive
it’s more aggressive: “take-ake my-ah han-and”
Mahalia was a big fine woman Mahalia was denuded
she sang “Precious Lord” at the funeral of Martin Luther King
Aretha sang “Precious Lord” at the funeral of Mahalia.

Thomas Dorsey met Mahalia met her for the first time in 1928
it was in 1928 that Georgia Tom moaned with Ma Rainey
he moaned with Ma Rainey he moaned and he groaned with Ma Rainey
he met Mahalia and he taught her how to moan
“you teach them how to say their words in a moanful way”
to say their words how to say his words
Mahalia was a big fine woman Mahalia was denuded
Dorsey knew the heavier the voice the better the singer

3
Al Green has a softened voice he has a voice made softened
he was made to sing softened by Willie Mitchell in 1972
softened and softened and softened
Al Green became Rev. Al Green of the Full Gospel Tabernacle in 1980
a tabernacle is a fixed or movable habitation
habitation where you stay together with the lord
Al Green has a softened voice he has a voice made softened
he was made to sing softened on “Let’s Stay Together”
in 1982 he was made to sing softened on “Precious Lord.”

Photograph of Thomas Dorsey photograph of a smooth operator
photograph of Georgia Tom photo of a smooth operator
the photo smoothed out retouched softened
one side of the face completely light one side of the face all dark
one side merges into the light smoothed out softened
one side merges into the dark smoothed out made softened
in the photograph a smooth operator is lighting a cigarette
slender fingers hold a matchbox hold a match
slender fingers hold a softened flame against the softened dark.

 
John Taggart (Guthrie Center, 5 oktober 1942)

 

De Nederlandse dichter, schrijver en journalist K. L. Poll, (volledige naam Kornelis Lubbertus Poll) werd geboren in Dordrecht op 5 oktober 1927. Zie ook alle tags voor K. L. Poll op dit blog.

Uit: Het Meer van de Ondank. Een tijdgedicht

Oktober

4
Ik ben, zei Helmut Schmidt,
een oude man, een groot deel
van het leven ligt achter me.
Als ik terugkijk, en vergelijk,
als ik me afvraag
welke stemming nu overheerst,
is dat geen angst
voor het lot van de wereld.

Carl Friedrich von Weiszäcker:
stemmingen zijn moeilijk ontwarbare gehelen,
het gaat om argumenten.
Voor mij blijft de vraag,
kunnen mensen de sprong maken
naar een cultuur zonder oorlog?
Die cultuur heeft nog niet bestaan.
Vergissingen kunnen wij ons niet veroorloven.
Het verlangen naar hegemonie blijft.
Wij behoren niet tot wat de biologen noemen
de fehlerfreundliche organismen.

Gezien en gehoord,
in Rettenbach, Midden-Europa:
twee wijze Duitse politici.


K.L. Poll (5 oktober 1927 – 14 november 1990)
Helmut Schmidt

 

De Ierse schrijver Flann O’Brien werd geboren op 5 oktober 1911 in Strabane, County Tyrone. Zie ook alle tags voor Flann O’Brien op dit blog.

Uit: At Swim-Two-Birds

“My uncle drained away the remainder of his tea and arranged his cup and saucer in the centre of his bacon plate in a token that his meal was at an end. He then blessed himself and sat for a time drawing air into his mouth with a hissing sound in an attempt to extract foodstuff from the crevices of his dentures. Subsequently he pursed his mouth and swallowed something. A boy of your age, he said at last, who gives himself up to the sin of sloth – what in God’s name is going to happen to him when he goes out to face the world? Boys but I often wonder what the world is coming to, I do indeed. Tell me this, do you ever open a book at all? I open several books every day, I answered. You open your granny, said my uncle. 0 I know the game you are at above in your bedroom. I am not as stupid as I look. I’ll warrant you that. He got up from the table and went out to the hall, sending back his voice to annoy me in his absence. Tell me this, did you press my Sunday trousers? I forgot, I said. What? I forgot, I shouted. Well that is very nice, he called, very nice indeed. Oh, trust you to forget. God look down on us and pity us this night and day. Will you forget again today? No, I answered. As he opened the hall-door, he was saying to himself in a low tone: Lord save us! The slam of the door released me from my anger. I finished my collation and retired to my bedroom, standing for a time at the window and observing the street-scene arranged below me that morning. Rain was coming softly from the low sky. I lit my cigarette and then took my letter from my pocket, opened it and read it.
Mail from V. Wright, Wyvern Cottage, Newmarket, Suffolk. V. Wright, the backer’s friend. Dear Friend and member. Thanks for your faith in me, it is very comforting to know that I have clients who are sportsmen who do not lose heart when the luck is ‘the wrong way’. Bounty Queen was indeed a great disappointment tho’ many were of opinion that she had dead-heated with the leaders but more of that anon. Considering I have been posting information from the same address since 1926, anybody leaving me now because of bad luck would indeed be a ‘puzzler’. You had the losers why not ‘row in’ and make a packet over the winners that are now our due. So much for the past, now for the future. SENSATIONAL NEWS has reached me that certain interests have planned a gigantic coup involving a certain animal who has been saved for the past month. INFORMATION from the RIGHT QUARTER notifies me that a sum of £5,000 at least will be wagered. The animal in question will be slipped at the right moment with the right man up and there will be a GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY to all who act `pronto’ and give their bookmaker the shock of his life. To all my friends forwarding 6d. and two S.A.E.’s I will present this THREE-STAR CAST-IRON PLUNGER and we will have the win of our lives and all the bad luck forgotten. We will feel ‘bucked’ when this animal flashes past the post at a fancy price.”


Flann O’Brien (5 oktober 1911 – 1 april 1966)
Portret door Micheál Ó’Nualláin, 1957

 

Onafhankelijk van geboortedata

De Vlaamse dichter en psycholoog Sven Cooremans werd geboren in Rumst 1970. Zie ook alle tags voor Sven Cooremans op dit blog.

Een mens hult een steen in het zachte

Een mens hult een steen in het zachte
binnen van een brood en wacht op de meeuwen,
de mouwen, de huid en het hart van de haas
gestroopt. Er ligt verf op de vensterbank
waar mijn ellebogen rusten. Op de velden
staat een scary man. Roerloos maakt hij
dag na dag een bootleg van het ruisen
van een zonevreemde pijn. In de kamer
bedekken schetsen de perenhouten vloer,
zwijgt mijn vrouw een tijd en met haar tong
langs haar lippen zwijgt mijn vrouw een tijd
voor ze toegeeft (ik heb dit uit liefde gedaan)
en het bed en haar stilte halfdonker maakt.


Sven Cooremans (Rumst, 1970)

 

Zie voor nog meer schrijvers van de 5e oktober ook mijn blog van 5 oktober 2017 en eveneens mijn blog van 5 oktober 2014 deel 2.

Václav Havel, Roberto Juarroz, Stig Dagerman, K.L. Poll, Flann O’,Brien, Denis Diderot, Charlotte Link, José Donoso, Sven Cooremans

De Tsjechische schrijver en politicus Václav Havel werd op 5 oktober 1936 in Praag geboren. Zie ook mijn blog van 5 oktober 2009 en ook mijn blog van 5 oktober 2010 en eveneens alle tags voor Václav Havel op dit blog.

Uit:The Power of the Powerless (Vertaald door Paul Wilson)

A specter is haunting Eastern Europe: the specter of what in the West is called “dissent.” This specter has not appeared out of thin air. It is a natural and inevitable consequence of the present historical phase of the system it is haunting. It was born at a time when this system, for a thousand reasons, can no longer base itself on the unadulterated, brutal, and arbitrary application of power, eliminating all expressions of nonconformity. What is more, the system has become so ossified politically that there is practically no way for such nonconformity to be implemented within its official structures.
Who are these so-called dissidents? Where does their point of view come from, and what importance does it have? What is the significance of the “independent initiatives” in which “dissidents” collaborate, and what real chances do such initiatives have of success? Is it appropriate to refer to “dissidents” as an opposition? If so, what exactly is such an opposition within the framework of this system? What does it do? What role does it play in society? What are its hopes and on what are they based? Is it within the power of the “dissidents”—as a category of subcitizen outside the power establishment—to have any influence at all on society and the social system? Can they actually change anything?
I think that an examination of these questions—an examination of the potential of the “powerless”—can only begin with an examination of the nature of power in the circumstances in which these powerless people operate.
Our system is most frequently characterized as a dictatorship or, more precisely, as the dictatorship of a political bureaucracy over a society which has undergone economic and social leveling. I am afraid that the term “dictatorship,” regardless of how intelligible it may otherwise be, tends to obscure rather than clarify the real nature of power in this system. We usually associate the term with the notion of a small group of people who take over the government of a given country by force; their power is wielded openly, using the direct instruments of power at their disposal, and they are easily distinguished socially from the majority over whom they rule. One of the essential aspects of this traditional or classical notion of dictatorship is the assumption that it is temporary, ephemeral, lacking historical roots. Its existence seems to be bound up with the lives of those who established it. It is usually local in extent and significance, and regardless of the ideology it utilizes to grant itself legitimacy, its power derives ultimately from the numbers and the armed might of its soldiers and police. The principal threat to its existence is felt to be the possibility that someone better equipped in this sense might appear and overthrow it.”

 
Václav Havel (5 oktober 1936 – 18 december 2011)

Continue reading “Václav Havel, Roberto Juarroz, Stig Dagerman, K.L. Poll, Flann O’,Brien, Denis Diderot, Charlotte Link, José Donoso, Sven Cooremans”

Václav Havel, Roberto Juarroz, Stig Dagerman, K.L. Poll, Flann O’Brien, Denis Diderot, Charlotte Link, Sven Cooremans

De Tsjechische schrijver en politicus Václav Havel werd op 5 oktober 1936 in Praag geboren. Zie ook mijn blog van 5 oktober 2009 en ook mijn blog van 5 oktober 2010 en eveneens alle tags voor Václav Havel op dit blog.

Uit: To the Castle and Back (Vertaald door Paul Wilson)

“I’ve run away. I’ve run away to America. I’ve run away for two months, with the whole family; that is, with Dasa and our two boxers, Sugar and her daughter Madlenka. I’ve run away in the hope that I will find more time and focus to write something. I haven’t been president now for two years, and I’m starting to worry about not having been able to write anything that holds together. When people ask me, as they do all the time, if I’m writing something and what I’m writing, I get mildly annoyed and I say that I’ve already written enough in my life, certainly more than most of my fellow citizens, and that writing isn’t a duty one can perform on demand. I’m here as a guest of the Library of Congress, which has given me a very quiet and pleasant room where I can come whenever I want, to do whatever I want. They ask nothing from me in return. It’s wonderful. Among other things, I would like to respond to Mr. HvÌzdala’s questions.
I’d like to start the conversation with a question that touches on the second half of the 1980s, when you became the most famous dissident in Central Europe, or-as John Keane wrote-“a star in the theater of opposition.” Do you remember the moment when it first occurred to you that you would have to enter into politics, that your role as a playwright, essayist, and thinker would no longer suffice?
In the first place I’d take issue with the designation “star in the theater of opposition.” We did everything we could not to separate ourselves into the “stars” and the others. The better known someone among us became, and thus the better protected from arbitrary repression, the more he tried to come out in defense of those who were less known and therefore more vulnerable. The regime, after all, held to the principle of “divide and conquer.” To some they said: “How can you, sir, an educated man respected by everyone, demean yourself by associating with such losers?” To others they said: “Don’t get mixed up with those guys; they’re a protected species. They’re always going to lie their way out of trouble, and they’ll go scot-free and leave you to pay the price.” It’s understandable that in such circumstances we placed a special emphasis on the principle of the equality of everyone who somehow expressed opposition to the regime.”

 
Václav Havel (5 oktober 1936 – 18 december 2011)

Continue reading “Václav Havel, Roberto Juarroz, Stig Dagerman, K.L. Poll, Flann O’Brien, Denis Diderot, Charlotte Link, Sven Cooremans”

Roberto Juarroz, Václav Havel, Stig Dagerman, K.L. Poll, Flann O’Brien, Denis Diderot

De Argentijnse dichter, essayist en literatuurwetenschapper Roberto Juarroz werd geboren in Coronel Dorrego op 5 oktober 1925. Zie ook mijn blog van 5 oktober 2009 en ook mijn blog van 5 oktober 2010 en eveneens alle tags voor Roberto Juarroz op dit blog.

The most beautiful day

The most beautiful day
lacks something:
its dark side.
Only to a near-sighted god
could light by itself
appear beautiful.

Beside any Let there be light!,
Let there be darkness!
should also be said.

We don’t arrive
at necessary night by omission only.

 

Night shuts down sometimes

Night shuts down sometimes
like blocks of stone
and leaves us without space.
My hand then can no longer touch you
to defend us from death
and I can’t even touch myself
to defend us from absence.
A vein that springs up in that same stone
separates me from my own thought too.
Thus night is converted
into our first tomb.

 

Now I can only wear old shoes

Now I can only wear old shoes.
The road I follow
wears shoes out from the first step.

But only old shoes
don’t despise my road
and only they can arrive
where my road arrives.

After that,
you have to continue barefoot.

 

Vertaald door Mary Crow

 
Roberto Juarroz (5 oktober 1925 – 31 maart 1995)

Continue reading “Roberto Juarroz, Václav Havel, Stig Dagerman, K.L. Poll, Flann O’Brien, Denis Diderot”

Roberto Juarroz, Václav Havel, Stig Dagerman, K.L. Poll

De Argentijnse dichter, essayist en literatuurwetenschapper Roberto Juarroz werd geboren in Coronel Dorrego op 5 oktober 1925. Zie ook mijn blog van 5 oktober 2009 en ook mijn blog van 5 oktober 2010 en eveneens alle tags voor Roberto Juarroz op dit blog.

Eleventh. I. 13

The craziness of the world must be changed.
To begin this work,
we could, for example,
take all the proper nouns
and write them again with lower case letters,
beginning with the one you love
of the biggest absence,
without overlooking
the proper noun for death.

By making names progressively smaller,
we will be gradually recovering the emptiness they contain
and perhaps we can find an extra,
the proper name of nothingness.

And to name nothingness
could be precisely
the foundation we lack:
the foundation of a craziness
we won’t need to change.

 

Vertaald door Mary Crow

 

Uit: Vertical Poetry

The roads leading upward
never get there.
The roads leading downward
always get there.
Then there are the roads in between.
But sooner or later every road
leads up or down.

 

Interior deserts,
vague litanies for someone who died
leaving all the doors open.
A gray cloak over another cloak of no color.
Excessive densities.
Even the wind casts a shadow.
Mockery of the landscape.
Nothing left to call to
but a flat dark sun
or an endless rain.
Or wipe out the landscape
with the wind and its shadow.
And there is one further resort:
drive the desert mad
until it turns into water
and drinks itself.
It it better to madden the desert
than to live there.

 

Vertaald door W.S. Merwin

 
Roberto Juarroz (5 oktober 1925 – 31 maart 1995)

Continue reading “Roberto Juarroz, Václav Havel, Stig Dagerman, K.L. Poll”

Roberto Juarroz, Václav Havel, Stig Dagerman, Flann O’Brien

De Argentijnse dichter, essayist en literatuurwetenschapper Roberto Juarroz werd geboren in Coronel Dorrego op 5 oktober 1925. Zie ook mijn blog van 5 oktober 2009 en ook mijn blog van 5 oktober 2010 en eveneens alle tags voor Roberto Juarroz op dit blog.

 

 

Interior deserts

 

Interior deserts,

vague litanies for someone who died

leaving all the doors open.

A gray cloak over another cloak of no color.

Excessive densities.

Even the wind casts a shadow.

Mockery of the landscape.

Nothing left to call to

but a flat dark sun

or an endless rain.

Or wipe out the landscape

with the wind and its shadow.

And there is one further resort:

drive the desert mad

until it turns into water

and drinks itself.

It it better to madden the desert

than to live there.

 

 

 

Crack of imminence in the heart

 

Crack of imminence in the heart,

while the foot of hope

dances its blue dance,

in love with its own shadow.

There is an expectant hymn

that cannot begin

as long as the dance has not finished

its cultivation of time.

It is a hymn backward,

and inverted imminence,

the last thread to tie the fountain

before its flow carries it away.

There are songs that sing,

there are others that are silent,

the deepest of all go backward

from the first letter.

 

 

Vertaald door W.S. Merwin

 

 

Roberto Juarroz (5 oktober 1925 – 31 maart 1995)

Continue reading “Roberto Juarroz, Václav Havel, Stig Dagerman, Flann O’Brien”

Flann O’Brien, Roberto Juarroz, Václav Havel

De Ierse schrijver Flann O’Brien werd geboren op 5 oktober 1911 in Strabane, County Tyrone. Zie ook mijn blog van 5 oktober 2009 en ook mijn blog van 5 oktober 2010 en eveneens alle tags voor Flann O’Brien op dit blog.

 

Uit: At Swim-Two-Birds

“HAVING placed in my mouth sufficient bread for three minutes’ chewing, I withdrew my powers of sensual perception and retired into the privacy of my mind, my eyes and face assuming a vacant and preoccupied expression. I reflected on the subject of my spare-time literary activities. One beginning and one ending for a book was a thing I did not agree with. A good book may have three openings entirely dissimilar and inter-related only in the prescience of the author, or for that matter one hundred times as many endings.

Examples of three separate openings – the first: The Pooka MacPhellimey, a member of the devil class, sat in his hut in the middle of a firwood meditating on the nature of the numerals and segregating in his mind the odd ones from the even. He was seated at his diptych or ancient two-leaved hinged writing-table with inner sides waxed. His rough long-nailed fingers toyed with a snuff-box of perfect rotundity and through a gap in his teeth he whistled a civil cavatina. He was a courtly man and received honour by reason of the generous treatment he gave his wife, one of the Corrigans of Carlow.

The second opening: There was nothing unusual in the appearance of Mr. John Furriskey but actually he had one distinction that is rarely encountered – he was born at the age of twenty-five and entered the world with a memory but without a personal experience to account for it. His teeth were well-formed but stained by tobacco, with two molars filled and a cavity threatened in the left canine. His knowledge of physics was moderate and extended to Boyle’s Law and the Parallelogram of Forces.

The third opening: Finn Mac Cool was a legendary hero of old Ireland. Though not mentally robust, he was a man of superb physique and development. Each of his thighs was as thick as a horse’s belly, narrowing to a calf as thick as the belly of a foal. Three fifties of fosterlings could engage with handball against the wideness of his backside, which was large enough to halt the march of men through a mountain-pass.

I hurt a tooth in the corner of my jaw with a lump of the crust I was eating. This recalled me to the perception of my surroundings.

It is a great pity, observed my uncle, that you don’t apply yourself more to your studies. The dear knows your father worked hard enough for the money he is laying out on your education. Tell me this, do you ever open a book at all?

I surveyed my uncle in a sullen manner. He speared a portion of cooked rasher against a crust on the prongs of his fork and poised the whole at the opening of his mouth in a token of continued interrogation.”

 


Flann O’Brien (5 oktober 1911 – 1 april 1966)

Continue reading “Flann O’Brien, Roberto Juarroz, Václav Havel”