Dolce far niente
Baum im Kornfeld door August Macke, 1907
Der Sommer
Das Erntefeld erscheint, auf Höhen schimmert
Der hellen Wolke Pracht, indes am weiten Himmel
In stiller Nacht die Zahl der Sterne flimmert,
Groß ist und weit von Wolken das Gewimmel.
Die Pfade gehn entfernter hin, der Menschen Leben,
Es zeiget sich auf Meeren unverborgen,
Der Sonne Tag ist zu der Menschen Streben
Ein hohes Bild, und golden glänzt der Morgen.
Mit neuen Farben ist geschmückt der Gärten Breite,
Der Mensch verwundert sich, dass sein Bemühn gelinget,
Was er mit Tugend schafft, und was er hoch vollbringet,
Es steht mit der Vergangenheit in prächtigem Geleite.
Friedrich Hölderlin (20 maart 1770 – 7 juni 1843)
Die Neckarbrücke in Lauffen am Neckar waar Hölderlin werd geboren
De Poolse dichter, schrijver en Nobelprijswinnaar Czesław Miłosz werd geboren in Šeteniai op 30 juni 1911. Zie ook alle tags voor Czeslaw Milosz op dit blog.
Faith
Faith is in you whenever you look
At a dewdropp or a floating leaf
And know that they are because they have to be.
Even if you close your eyes and dream up things
The world will remain as it has always been
And the leaf will be carried by the waters of the river.
You have faith also when you hurt your foot
Against a sharp rock and you know
That rocks are there to hurt our feet.
See the long shadow that is cast by the tree?
We and trees throw shadows on the earth.
What has no shadow has no strength to live.
Hope
Hope is with you when you believe
The earth is not a dream but living flesh,
that sight, touch, and hearing do not lie,
That all thing you have ever seen here
Are like a garden looked at from a gate.
You cannot enter. But you’re sure it’s there.
Could we but look more clearly and wisely
We might discover somewhere in the garden
A strange new flower and an unnamed star.
Some people say that we should not trust our eyes,
That there is nothing, just a seeming,
There are the ones who have no hope.
They think the moment we turn away,
The world, behind our backs, ceases to exist,
As if snatched up by the hand of thieves.
Love
Love means to learn to look at yourself
The way one looks at distant things
For you are only one thing among many.
And whoever sees that way heals his heart,
Without knowing it, from various ills—
A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.
Then he wants to use himself and things
So that they stand in the glow of ripeness.
It doesn’t matter whether he knows what he serves:
Who serves best doesn’t always understand.
Czeslaw Milosz (30 juni 1911 – 14 augustus 2004)
De Indiase dichter Yaseen Anwer werd geboren op 30 juni 1989 in Patna. Zie ook alle tags voor Yaseen Anwer op dit blog.
Gentle breeze
Oh you gentle breeze
Slowly,
Gradually…
Drive my fragrance
Away,
Along…
And exchange, where
willingly,
Happily…
It starts to disappear.
Yaseen Anwer (Patna, 30 juni 1989)
De Mexicaanse schrijver, dichter, essayist en vertaler José Emilio Pacheco werd geboren in Mexico City op 30 juni 1939. Zie ook alle tags voor José Emilio Pacheco op dit blog.
Salt
If you want to study its essence, its purpose,
its usefulness in the world,
you’ve got to see it as a whole. Salt
isn’t the individuals who make it up
but the solidary tribe. Without it
each particle would be like a fragment of nothingness,
dissolving in some unthinkable black hole.
Salt surfaces from the sea. It’s petrified
foam.
It’s sea baked by the sun.
And so finally worn-out,
deprived of its great water force,
it dies on the beach to become stone in the sand.
Salt is the desert where there once was sea.
Water and land
reconciled,
matter of no one.
It’s why the world tastes of what it is to be alive.
Vertaald door Katherine M. Hedeen en Víctor Rodríguez Núñez.
José Emilio Pacheco (30 juni 1939 – 26 januari 2014)
Zie voor nog meer schrijvers van de 30e juni ook mijn blog van 30 juni 2014 en eveneens mijn blog van 30 juni 2013 deel 1 en eveneens deel 2.