Susanna Tamaro, Kader Abdolah, Sophie Kinsella, Gustave Flaubert, John Osborne

De Italiaanse schrijfster Susanna Tamaro werd geboren in Triëst op 12 december 1957. Zie ook alle tags voor Susanna Tamaro op dit blog.

Uit:The Acceptance Of A Gift

“Unfortunately, I don’t have a particularly happy memory of my first encounter with Catholic doctrine. I recall a freezing hall, the sing-song voice of a priest who was talking about strange stories which I could not follow through to the end and the chorus of our answers spoken out loud, always the same and always incomprehensible.
Within me, there were already great and terrible questions which were boiling. Why is there evil? Why does everything end? Why are we born? Why do we die? And instead of answers, I only received some «stories» which were not able to draw me in their folds. I had been waiting for the beginning of catechism with great excitement, I hoped to receive some answers to my worries, but that excitement, afternoon after afternoon, parable after parable, was slowly dissipating, leaving me more and more unsatisfied and deluded.
There was no anger, nor rejection in that dissatisfaction, just bitterness of someone who doesn’t feel respected in their desire to get closer to the Truth. On the way hope, I walked quickly, wrapped up in my thoughts. If God is good and loves us, why does he permit evil? Why does he force Abraham to lift his sword over his son Isaac? Why did Cain kill Abel? Why did Judas prefer a small pittance of money over the love of Jesus?
I remember my childhood like a prolonged insomnia, sometimes I had the impression that my head would explode for the many questions floating in it, for the total absence of an adult who was capable of taking me by the hand and accompanying me through the answers. In this absolute solitude of mine, only two images were very peaceful for me: the Guardian Angel and the Holy Spirit. Both had vaporous, white wings, both lived next to men, but were not men, they flew above us, participating in the events of the earth without being captured, far from hate and betrayal which had killed Jesus.”

 

 
Susanna Tamaro (Triëst, 12 december 1957)

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Ahmad Shamlou, Vassilis Alexakis, Beat Sterchi, Hans Keilson, Shrinivási

De Iraanse dichter, schrijver en journalist Ahmad Shamlou werd geboren op 12 december 1925 in Teheran. Zie ook alle tags voor Ahmad Shamlou op dit blog en ook mijn blog van 12 december 2009.

 

The Fish

Never has been my heart,
I think,
So crimson and warm:
At the worst seconds
Of this deadly night,
I feel,
Thousands of founts of sun
Spout with certitude
in my heart.
In every corner
Of this salt-desert of despair,
Thousands of vivacious woods,
I feel,
Grow sudden out of ground.
 
You! My lost certitude!
You runaway fish!
Slipping in and out
Of lakes of mirror!
A filtering pond am I;
Now with the sorcery of love,
Seek a way towards I
From the lakes of mirror!
 
Never has been my hand,
I think,
This gay and grand:
With a waterfall of crimson tear
in my eye
I feel,
Breathes a dusk-less sun of an anthem.
In every vein of mine
With every beat of my heart,
I feel,
Chimes now the awakening of a caravan.
 
She entered through the door one night
Nude as the water’s soul;
Her breasts: two fish,
Hands, holding a mirror,
Her hair: moss-smelling,
Twisted as moss.
 
At the threshold of despair,
Cried I:
“My found certitude!
Of you,
I will not let go of you.”

 

Vertaald door Sheida Dayani

 

 
Ahmad Shamlou (12 december 1925 – 24 juli 2000)

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Christian Dotremont, Tsjingiz Ajtmatov, Manès Sperber, Else Buschheuer, Patrick O’Brian

De Belgische kunstschilder, schrijver en dichter Christian Dotremont werd geboren in Tervuren op 12 december 1922. Zie ook alle tags voor Christian Dotremont op dit blog.

 

 
Zonder titel, 1971

 

Zo verlaten als de winter in het hoge noorden

zo verlaten als de winter in het Hoge Noorden
is en zo donker als de nacht die wij zopas
nog voegden bij deze nacht, vonden wij
er nog enorm veel lumineus licht,
niet zozeer in de schittering van de lucht
die reëel is en nabij, of de verblindende schittering
van de besneeuwde vlakten, of het bruuske
noorderlicht, dan in de vermoedelijk niet te beschrijven
huivering alles te beleven wat wij zagen en meer dan dat

 

 
Christian Dotremont (12 december 1922 – 20 augustus 1979)

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