#entropy tango

[alinamelinda]

[jelimarco]

Episodio in biblioteca [Epizod w bibliotece]

Zbigniew Herbert

Una ragazza bionda si è chinata su una poesia. Con una matita affilata come un bisturi trasferisce le parole su un foglio bianco e le trasforma in trattini, accenti, cesure. Il lamento del poeta caduto in combattimento ha ora l'aspetto di una salamandra smangiucchiata dalle formiche. 

Quando lo trasportavamo sotto il fuoco, credevo che il suo corpo ancora caldo sarebbe risorto nella parola. Ora, vedendo la morte delle parole, so che non c'è limite alla decomposizione. Di noi resteranno lettere sparse nella terra nera. Accenti sul nulla e sulla polvere.

(dalla raccolta Hermes, Il cane, La stella/Hermes, pies i gwiazda traduzione di Pietro Marchesani, in Rapporto dalla città assediata)

[jelimarco]

Der Sechste Sinn

Konrad Bayer

la la la’, sang goldenberg. ‚bla bla bla’, antwortete braunschweiger. hierauf waren beide, braunschweiger und goldenberg, minutenlang glücklich.

[jelimarco]

Aniara [Aniara: en revy om människan i tid och rum]

Harry Martinson

    102     I had coveted a Paradise for this race     but since we left the one we had destroyed     the Zodiac’s lonely night became our only home,     a gaping chasm in which no god could hear us.     The eternal mystery of Heaven’s stars,     the miracle of the celestial mechanism,     is the law but not the Gospel.     Mercy can only thrive where there is life.     We failed to grasp the true meaning of the Law,     and found an empty death in Mima’s hall.     The God on whom we fixed our final hopes     lay wounded on the plains of Douris.     103     I turn the lantern low, enjoining stillness.     Our tragedy has ended.  But with the right     of travellers down the ages, I have told     our tale, a vision in galactic night.     With unabated speed towards the Lyra     the goldonda droned for fifteen thousand years,     like a museum filled with bones and artefacts,     and dried herbs and roots, relics from Douris’ woods.     Entombed in our immense sarcophagus     we were borne on across the desolate waves     of space-night, so unlike the day we’d known,     unchallenged silence closing round our grave.     By Mima’s graveside fallen in a circle     transformed once more to blameless dust we lay,     impervious to the sting of bitter stars,     lost and dispersed in oceans of Nirvana.

(translated by Hugh MacDiarmid and Elspeth Harley Schubert)

[jelimarco]

Gli Anelli di Saturno [Die Ringe des Saturn: Eine englische Wallfahrt]

W G Sebald

Nell’agosto del 1992, quando la canicola cominciò ad allentarsi, intrapresi un viaggio a piedi attraverso la contea di Suffolk in East Anglia con la speranza di sfuggire al vuoto che si stava diffondendo in me dopo la conclusione di un lavoro piuttosto impegnativo.

(Traduzione di Ada Vigliani)

[jelimarco]

The Double Hook

Sheila Watson Greta was at the stove. Turning hotcakes. Reaching for the coffee beans. Grinding away James’s voice. James was at the top of the stairs. His hand half-raised. His voice in the rafters. James walking away. The old lady falling. There under the jaw of the roof. In the vault of the bed loft. Into the shadow of death. Pushed by James’s will. By James’s hand. By James’s words: This is my day. You’ll not fish today.

[jelimarco]

Darkness Visible

William Golding

Matty limped from hospital into his first school; and from that into a school maintained by two of the biggest trade unions in Britain. Here, in the Foundlings School at Greenfield, he met Mr Pedigree. They could be said to have converged on each other, though Matty was going up and Mr Pedigree was going down.

[jelimarco]

The Crying of Lot 49

Thomas Pynchon

ONE summer afternoon Mrs Oedipa Maas came home from a Tupperware party whose hostess had put perhaps too much kirsch in the fondue to find that she, Oedipa, had been named executor, or she supposed executrix, of the estate of one Pierce Inverarity, a California real estate mogul who had once lost two million dollars in his spare time but still had assets numerous and tangled enough to make the job of sorting it all out more than honorary. Oedipa stood in the living room, stared at by the greenish dead eye of the TV tube, spoke the name of God, tried to feel as drunk as possible.