De Nederlandse dichteres en schrijfster Marjoleine de Vos werd geboren in Oosterbeek op 19 april 1957. Zie ook alle tags voor Marjoleine de Vos op dit blog.
Zie de Lente
Barst plots in de sneeuw de helleborus open
trompettert leven en knalt geel forsythia.
Guur waait de lente weg de stille winter
dun hoog licht verdrijft behaaglijk vuur.
Ineens moet alles uit zijn grond of tak
in bermen joelen paardebloemen
de kromme wilg rilt in zijn lichte groen.
Daar staan wij ook, naakt en koud met bloesem
in grijzig haar en willen warm en wild
en dat we houden van die schrille kleuren
van elkaar.
De ziel, een kudde schapen
Brave witten, zoet klingelen, lief eten.
Paar zwarten, tuintje leeg vreten
rennen waar geen schaap nog ging.
En die slome die niet merkt dat
brroemmm! de jonge herder op zijn brommer.
Leuke ziel met krullen wol en suffe kop,
veelstemmig omlaag stromend naar zee.
Dan weer verplicht de bergen op.
Valt het onze jongens niet mee
in het doel van hun missie te geloven.
Marjoleine de Vos (Oosterbeek, 19 april 1957)
De Braziliaanse dichter, schrijver en vertaler Manuel Carneiro de Souza Bandeira Filho werd geboren op 19 april 1886 in Recife. Zie ook alle tags voor Manuel Bandeira op dit blog.
Profundamente
When last night I feel asleep
At the feast of St. John
There was much merriment and noise
Stacatto banging of rockets and lights of Roman candles
Voices songs and laughter
Near the kindled bonfires.
In the middle of the night I awoke
And could no longer hear voices and laughter
Only vagrant balloons
Drifted here and there
Oh, so silently
And from time to time
Only the clatter of the streetcar
Bored through the silence
Like a tunnel.
Where were those who a mere moment ago
Were dancing
Were singing
Were laughing
Near the kindled bonfires?
— They were all asleep
They were all lying down
Sleeping
Oh, so profoundly.
When I was sic years old
I could not see the end of the feast of St. John
Because I fell asleep.
Today I can no longer hear the voices of that time
My grandmother
My grandfather
Totonio Rodrigues
Tomasia
Rosa
Where are they all?
— They are all asleep
They are all lying down
Sleeping
Oh, so profoundly.
Vertaald door John Nist enYolanda Leite
Manuel Bandeira (19 april 1886 – 13 oktober 1968)
Portret door Frederico Maron, 1931
De Zuidtiroolse dichter norbert c. kaser werd geboren op 19 april 1947 in Brixen. Zie ook alle tags voor norbert c. kaser op dit blog.
der hahn
wenn der hahn sich erhebt
an jedem morgen
seinen kamm neu stellt
rot voller blut und fleisch
da werfe ich ihm steine nach
an jedem morgen
dem hahn in
seine federn
wenn der hahn sich erhebt
an jedem abend
seinen kamm noch stellt
wo er doch schlafen soll
da werfe ich ihm sand ins lid
an jedem abend
dem hahn daß
er schlafe
ich bin so voll erregung
ich bin so voll erregung
daß ich zu zerspringen
angst habe
wie ein wasserglas
& auszulaufen zu
versickern in den klaffenden
spalten des bodens
der frisch
gescheuert ist
mit sand & asche
& wieder ergreift erregung
mich
daß etwas geschieht
zwischen eulen
& spritzendem lack
daß mir die schuhe
zerfallen
in rinder
n. c. kaser (19 april 1947 – 21 augustus 1978)
De Russische schrijver Veniamin Kaverin werd geboren op 19 april 1902 in Pskov. Zie ook alle tags voor Veniamin Kaverin op dit blog.
Uit: Two captains (Vertaald door Bernard Isaacs)
“The watchman ran heavily and once he even stopped to take breath. But the one who was running ahead seemed to find the going still harder, for he suddenly stopped and crouched down by the handrail. The watchman ran up to him, shouting, then suddenly reeled back, as if he had been struck from below. He hung on the handrail, slowly slipping down, while the murderer was already disappearing behind the rampart.
I don’t know why, but that night no one was guarding the pontoon bridge. The sentry-box stood empty, and except for the watchman, who was lying on his side with his arms stretched forward, there was not a soul in sight. A large undressed hide lay beside him, and when, shaking with terror, I went up to him, he started to yawn slowly. Years afterwards I learned that many people yawn just before they die. Then he heaved a deep sigh, as though with relief, and grew still.
Not knowing what to do, I bent over him, then ran to the sentry-box- that was when I saw it was empty-and back again to the watchman. I couldn’t even shout, not only because I was a mute at the time, but from sheer terror. Now voices could be heard from the bank, and I rushed back to the place where I had been fishing for crabs. Never again in my life did I run so fast; my heart hammered wildly and I could scarcely breathe. I had no time to cover up the crabs with grass and I lost half of them by the time I got home. But who cared about crabs then! With a thumping heart I opened the door noiselessly. In the single room of our home it was dark, all were fast asleep and no one had seen me go and come. In a moment I was lying in my old place beside my father, but I could not fall asleep for a long time. Before my eyes was the moonlit bridge and on it the two long running shadows.”
Veniamin Kaverin (19 april 1902 – 4 mei 1989)
Pskov
Zie voor nog meer schrijvers van de 19e april ook mijn vorige blog van vandaag.