thel ([info]thel) wrote on February 19th, 2009 at 02:50 pm
Īstu veču dzeja
Mjā, dažkārt informētība pirms apgalvojumiem nenāk par sliktu. Piemēram, Nilss Sakss savā satori blogā jautā - Vai tad jūs varat iedomāties, piem., Hemingveju vai Džeku Londonu rakstām pantiņus? Es spēju ne tikai iedomāties, bet arī izlasīt. Par Bukovski i nevajadzētu runāt - viņš kļuva slavens tieši ar saviem dzejoļiem, bet prozu sāka rakstīt salīdzinoši vēlu. Tālāk. Kāpēc gan viņam nenopirkt šo grāmatu: The Complete Poetry of Jack London (Little Red Tree Pub. 2007)? Visubeidzot - Hemingveja veltījums Saksam:

Along with Youth

A porcupine skin,
Stiff with bad tanning,
It must have ended somewhere.
Stuffed horned owl
Pompous
Yellow eyed;
Chuck-wills-widow on a biassed twig
Sooted with dust.
Piles of old magazines,
Drawers of boy's letters
And the line of love
They must have ended somewhere.
Yesterday's Tribune is gone
Along with youth
And the canoe that went to pieces on the beach
The year of the big storm
When the hotel burned down
At Seney, Michigan.
 
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