terça-feira, julho 07, 2009


“I tried for you Pete, I tried to hold him off. I'm sorry,” joked Andy Roddick after the final, when addressing Peter Sampras, who was in the stands at Wimbledon watching.... eh eh eh

domingo, julho 05, 2009

Fragments of Thought-Poems: "Das Stundenbuch" by Rainer Maria Rilke

(original review, 2009)

Da neigt sich die Stunde und rührt mich an
mit klarem, metallenem Schlag:
mir zittern die Sinne. Ich fühle: ich kann -
und ich fasse den plastischen Tag.

Nichts war noch vollendet, eh ich es erschaut,
ein jedes Werden stand still.
Meine Blicke sind reif, und wie eine Braut
kommt jedem das Ding, das er will.

Nichts ist mir zu klein, und ich lieb es trotzdem
und mal es auf Goldgrund und groß
und halte es hoch, und ich weiß nicht wem
löst es die Seele los...

In “Das Stundenbuch” von Rainer Maria Rilke.

Sometimes I get locked in, to a particular mood, memory, thought cycle or reverie. Like a fevered dream that immediately disappears upon on waking, but leaves you with the rush and noise and colour of fast motion. "Stundenbuch" is that fevered dream, and sometimes I need to be locked in, but not as often as I would need to read "Das Buch vom Mönchsichen Leben", or "Das Buch von der Pilgerschaft", or "Das Buch von der Armut und vom Tode", all of them in their entirety, or "Ich bin, du Ängstlicher", or the snare shot kick that opens "Nachwächter ist der Wahnsinn, weil er wacht", or the dense angst driven darkness of "Ich bin nur einer deiner Ganzgeringen, der in das leben aus der Zelle sieht", or a thousand other moments I could easily pick. These are words, driving to an unheard rhythm, fragments of thought-poems, miscellaneous advice and scenes from dark imagings. I used to have an old tattered copy given to me by a German girlfriend almost 30 years ago, and either me or she (my memory can't reveal who) underlined certain phrases or key lines that seemed to have some greater importance than others. Reading through this now (getting past the sudden thought that books might be one of the very few things in our lives that we can touch and hold and reconnect back physically 30 years) it strikes me that we could have underlined almost anything at random. Maybe we did. There's no significance here, and I'm not sure there ever was meant to be. But if a book of heightened poetry by an incredible poet can lock me into a wonderful moment, than that surely is significance enough.

Loved Maria Teresa Dias Furtado's translation. Not exactly my choices translation-wise, but she  made a valiant attempt at translating the untranslatable.

One of the books of my life.

NB: This is the bilingual edition I bought a few years later because the original edition, in German, vanished in the mists of time...so did the German girl...