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C’est Lou Qu’on La Nommait
Il est des loups de toute sorte
Je connais le plus inhumain
Mon cœur que le diable l’emporte
Et qu’il le dépose à sa porte
N’est plus qu’un jouet dans sa main
Les loups jadis étaient fidèles
Comme sont les petits toutous
Et les soldats amants des belles
Galamment en souvenir d’elles
Ainsi que les loups étaient doux
Mais aujourd’hui les temps sont pires
Les loups sont tigres devenus
Et les Soldats et les Empires
Les Césars devenus Vampires
Sont aussi cruels que Vénus
J’en ai pris mon parti Rouveyre
Et monté sur mon grand cheval
Je vais bientôt partir en guerre
Sans pitié chaste et l’œil sévère
Comme ces guerriers qu’Epinal
Vendait Images populaires
Que Georgin gravait dans le bois
Où sont-ils ces beaux militaires
Soldats passés Où sont les guerres
Où sont les guerres d’autrefois
Guillaume Apollinaire
(1880 – 1918)
Poèmes à Lou
C’est Lou Qu’on La Nommait
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More in: Apollinaire, Guillaume, Archive A-B, Guillaume Apollinaire
Zelfportret met schijnbeeld
Vannacht was ik een Bolognezer. Een ieder
die mij op de Piazza Verdi passeerde deelde
ik zebravinkjes uit, ontelbare zebravinkjes.
Wat een geluid maken die vogeltjes. Het lijkt
het hardste marmer te kunnen doordringen.
Uit alle ramen van de universiteit staken
gezichten met vraagtekens. Ik weende niet.
Bert Bevers
Bert Bevers is a poet and writer who lives and works in Antwerp (Be)
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More in: Archive A-B, Archive A-B, Bevers, Bert, Natural history
When I founded the Cabaret Voltaire, I was sure that there must be a few young people in Switzerland who like me were interested not only in enjoying their independence but also in giving proof of it.
I went to Herr Ephraim, the owner of the Meierei, and said, “Herr Ephraim, please let me have your room. I want to start a night-club.” Herr Ephraim agreed and gave me the room. And I went to some people I knew and said, “Please give me a picture, or a drawing, or an engraving. I should like to put on an exhibition in my night-club.” I went to the friendly Zürich press and said, “Put in some announcements. There is going to be an international cabaret. We shall do great things.” And they gave me pictures and they put in my annoucements. So on 5th February we had a cabaret. Mademoiselle Hennings and Mademoiselle Leconte sang French and Danish chansons. Herr Tristan Tzara recited Rumanian poetry. A balalaika orchestra played delightful folk-songs and dances.
I received much support and encouragement from Herr M. Slodki, who designed the poster, and from Herr Hans Arp, who supplied some Picassos, as well as works of his own, and obtained for me pictures by his friends O. van Rees and Artur Segall. Much support also from Messrs. Tristan Tzara, Marcel Janco and Max Oppenheimer, who readily agreed to take part in the cabaret.
We organized a Russian evening and, a little later, a French one (works by Apollinaire, Max Jacob, André Salmon, A. Jarry, Laforgue and Rimbaud). On 26th February Richard Huelsenbeck arrived from Berlin and on 30th March we performed some stupendous Negro music (toujours avec la grosse caisse: boum boum boum boum – drabatja mo gere drabatja mo bonooooooooo -). Monsieur Laban was present at the performance and was very enthusiastic. Herr Tristan Tzara was the initiator of a performance by Messrs. Tzara, Huelsenbeck and Janco (the first in Zürich and in the world) of simultaneist verse by Messrs. Henri Barzun and Fernand Divoire, as well as a poème simultané of his own composition, which is reproduced on pages six and seven.
The persent booklet is published by us with the support of our friends in France, Italy and Russia. It is intended to present to the Public the activities and interests of the Cabaret Voltaire, which has as its sole purpose to draw attention, across the barriers of war and nationalism, to the few independent spirits who live for other ideals. The next objective of the artists who are assembled here is the publication of a revue internationale. La revue paraîtra à Zurich et portera le nom “Dada” (“Dada”). Dada Dada Dada Dada.
Zürich, 15th May 1916
Hugo Ball
(1886-1927)
From Cabaret Voltaire – Issue 1
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More in: Archive A-B, Archive A-B, Ball, Hugo, Dada, DADA, Dadaïsme, LITERARY MAGAZINES, Pablo Picasso
Pour Madeleine Seule
Lune candide vous brillez moins que les hanches
De mon amour
Aubes que j’admire vous êtes moins blanches
Aubes que chaque jour
J’admire ô hanches si blanches
Il y a le reflet de votre blancheur
Au fond de cet aluminium
Dont on fait des bagues
Dans cette zone où règne la blancheur
O hanches si blanches.
Guillaume Apollinaire
(1880 – 1918)
Pour Madeleine Seule
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Apollinaire, Guillaume, Archive A-B, Guillaume Apollinaire
“Je pense à toi”
Je pense à toi mon Lou ton cœur est ma caserne
Mes sens sont tes chevaux ton souvenir est ma luzerne
Le ciel est plein ce soir de sabres d’éperons
Les canonniers s’en vont dans l’ombre lourds et prompts
Mais près de toi je vois sans cesse ton image
Ta bouche est la blessure ardente du courage
Nos fanfares éclatent dans la nuit comme ta voix
Quand je suis à cheval tu trottes près de moi
Nos 75 sont gracieux comme ton corps
Et tes cheveux sont fauves comme le feu d’un obus
qui éclate au nord
Je t’aime tes mains et mes souvenirs
Font sonner à toute heure une heureuse fanfare
Des soleils tour à tour se prennent à hennir
Nous sommes les bat-flanc sur qui ruent les étoiles.
Guillaume Apollinaire
(1880 – 1918)
“Je pense à toi”
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Apollinaire, Guillaume, Archive A-B, Guillaume Apollinaire
In memoriam Joseph Brodsky
Dat het gevoel geïncarneerd te zijn
niet doorbreekt, Iosif, is niet werkelijk
jouw fout. Als abstractie en scholastiek
een uitweg bieden als het ongeluk
verstoppertje spelen wil met de pijn,
so be it. Velen worden geestesziek
nadat het ziektebeeld is vastgesteld.
‘Een parasiet.’ Er wordt niet bijverteld
wat verder de verwachtingen nog zijn.
Jij overleeft het, Joseph, gaat publiek,
wordt een socialite of sorts en laat
jouw duizelingwekkende acrobatiek
een stug verlangen naar de verte zijn.
En nu jij voorgoed vertrokken bent,
nou missen we jou en je vreselijke
enjambementen, jouw smartelijke
sjamanenstem, je gedichten, je pijn.
Paul Bezembinder
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive A-B, Bezembinder, Paul, Brodsky, Joseph, POETRY IN TRANSLATION: BEZEMBINDER
The Board of Trustees of the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade has chosen the Canadian author, essayist and poet Margaret Atwood to be the recipient of this year’s Peace Prize.
The award ceremony will take place on Sunday, October 15, 2017, the final day of the Frankfurt Book Fair, at the Church of St. Paul in Frankfurt am Main. The ceremony will be broadcast live on German public television. The Peace Prize has been awarded since 1950 and is endowed with a sum of €25,000.
In her wide range of novels, essays and volumes of poetry, Canadian author Margaret Atwood has demonstrated a keen political intuition and a deeply perceptive ability to detect dangerous and underlying developments and tendencies.
Margaret Eleanor Atwood was born in Ottawa on November 18, 1939 and spent the first part of her childhood in the forests of northern Quebec, where her father conducted research as an entomologist. During this time, she and her older brother and younger sister were taught at home by their mother. In 1946, when her father took up a position at the University of Toronto, Atwood began attending regular school for the first time. From 1957 to 1962, she studied English and literature at universities in Toronto and Cambridge, Massachusetts. In 1963, she got her professional life underway at a market research company, and in 1964, she began working as a professor of literature at various universities.
Atwood started publishing her first poems (see »The Circle Game«) in the early 1960s in what she referred to as a »private printing press«. She then continued to make an increasingly respected name for herself throughout the 1970s with a number of further volumes of poetry. It was at this time in her career that she began to focus on writing novels. Today, she is considered the most important and most successful author in Canada. Her work, which comprises novels, short stories, essays, poetry, stage plays, screenplays and children’s books, has been translated into more than 30 languages.
Atwood achieved far-reaching national and international recognition with the publication of her first work of literary criticism, »Survival: A Thematic Guide to Canadian Literature« (1972), in which she examined the role of Canadian literature and literary history with tremendous wit and concision. She followed that up with her first two novels, »The Edible Woman« (1969) and »Surfacing« (1972), in which she explored the perception of women’s role in modern Canada.
In 1985, Atwood published »The Handmaid’s Tale«, a dystopian novel in the tradition of George Orwell. The novel depicts a totalitarian society in which women are meticulously oppressed and used as birth machines. By taking up certain social tendencies of her day and following their logic to its latent conclusion, Atwood was able to create a novel of timeless relevance. The Handmaid’s Tale brought her to the peak of her already impressive literary career, and in 1989, German director Volker Schlöndorff even directed a film version. Today, precisely due to its enduring topicality, the novel is back on bestseller lists and experiencing a renaissance in American society under Donald Trump.
After »Cat’s Eye« (1988), which explores the childhood and friendship of two women in post-war Canada, and »The Robber Bride« (1993), in which she examines women’s darker side, Atwood published »Alias Grace« (1996), a historical fiction about a mysterious girl sentenced to life in prison for murder in the mid 19th century. After »The Blind Assassin« (2000), a broad portrait of Canadian society in the 20th century that garnered her the Booker Prize for Fiction, she shifted her focus to themes of ecological devastation and dangerous social tendencies in the post-apocalyptic worlds of her end-of-times trilogy »Oryx und Crake« (2003), »The Year of the Flood« (2009) and »MaddAddam« (2013). Known today for being an author and an environmental activist, Atwood coined the term »speculative fiction« to describe her work, although nothing she describes in her novels is pure invention. She takes a similar approach in her socially critical work »Payback. Debt and the Shadow Side of Wealth« (2008), a collection of lectures in which she examines the preconditions and consequences of the global financial crisis. Drawing on facts from cultural history, literature and linguistics, she spotlights the concept of economic and moral guilt found in the economic disaster.
In the past several years, Atwood had rounded out her literary oeuvre with a number of works, including »Scribbler Moon«, a novel that will be published no sooner than 2114 as part of the Future Library Project. She also published »The Tent« (2006) and »Stone Mattress« (2014), as well as the novels »The Heart Goes Last« (2015) and »Hag-Seed« (2016). In addition to writing, Atwood continues to be active both politically and socially. In Germany, the latest product of her efforts is a volume of collected essays translated into German and set for publication in November 2017; »Aus Neugier und Leidenschaft« presents the cosmos of Margaret Atwood, including reviews, travel reports, writings on ecological themes and short stories. In May 2017, Atwood joined Salman Rushdie at the head of a campaign to garner support and higher levels of attention for authors suffering persecution and censorship. The campaign involves more than 200 writers and artists belonging to PEN International.
Margaret Atwood lives in Toronto with her second husband, the writer Graeme Gibson. Toronto is also the home of the Margaret Atwood Society, an organization dedicated to international scholarship and discourse on her work, for which she has received several honorary doctor titles.
# More info on website ‘Friedenspreis des Deutschen Buchhandels’
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More in: - Bookstores, Archive A-B, Archive A-B, Art & Literature News, Awards & Prizes, Margaret Atwood, PRESS & PUBLISHING, REPRESSION OF WRITERS, JOURNALISTS & ARTISTS, WAR & PEACE
Belijdenis
Je moet niets verbranden. Zelfs geen mieren
als je denkt dat die een oprukkend leger zijn.
Dat heb ik wel gebiecht ja, dat heb ik toen wel
gebiecht. Ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine
Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. Amen.
Ach, die 10 Ave Maria’s en 5 Paternosters
waarmee ik mijn zieltje destijds schoon waste.
Het blonk daarna weer als een ansjovisbuikje.
Nooit echt heb ik me onderworpen aan de sluier
van de dwang. Onrustige biechtelingen waren
er genoeg hoor, bang mokkend in hun eigen
schaduw. Vierduizend mijl dik waren voor hen
de muren van de hel. Zij leerden de beschroomde
tere tinten van berouw nooit kennen. Bleven
verhard in wrede gedachten, grauw als gummi.
Bert Bevers
Eerder verschenen in Digther, Diksmuide, november 2013
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive A-B, Archive A-B, Bevers, Bert
Silence with Peter Porter
We met briefly in an Edwardian hall
but I can’t remember which one.
I do remember I recited
and so did you, but you did so
like there was a hush in sound
without the necessary noise
polluting the voice of your words.
London was varnished with rain
and the audience were wet with
guilt at the disappointment
of an unruly climate outside
that pissed all over them.
The stark-birth of your words
were not counted by charismatic bullets,
I thought you a little boring
protected in the flat-jacket
of your reputation, how stupid of me.
I noticed a silence encircling you
and your eyes met mine
and yours couldn’t be acquired
by anything or anyone at any cost.
Vincent Berquez
Vincent Berquez is a London–based artist and poet
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive A-B, Berquez, Vincent, Vincent Berquez
Gedichten
Zonder titel
1
Deze hiërarchie van zichtbaarheid
doemt als een spiegel op uit diepte.
Geen tijd voor afleidingsmanoeuvres:
wie haar kennen moet kent haar.
2
Tot de hoogste macht verheven lijkt
dit vloeien tussen droom en stroom.
De Rijn verwijt niemand ooit iets.
Geen vijand kent water, is de regel.
Bert Bevers
Geschreven voor het poëzieproject in Millingen aan de Rijn, 2014
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive A-B, Archive A-B, Bevers, Bert
Verzegelde tijd
Besefte jij het, dat in Зеркало
heden en verleden samenvielen,
als twee afzonderlijke werkelijk-
heden, bijna als twee oude zielen,
als dans van denken en amygdala,
op dat moment nog niet beseffend
dat een verstoorde scopofilia hen
uiteen zou drijven, de abstractie
het winnen zou van de intimiteit,
en het heden het verleden enkel
nog kennen zou in de verleden tijd?
Paul Bezembinder
Biografie: Paul Bezembinder studeerde theoretische natuurkunde in Nijmegen. In zijn poëzie zoekt hij in vooral klassieke versvormen en thema’s naar de balans tussen serieuze poëzie, pastiche en smartlap. Zijn gedichten (Nederlands) en vertalingen (Russisch-Nederlands) verschenen in verschillende (online) literaire tijdschriften. Voorbeelden van zijn werk zijn te vinden op zijn website, www.paulbezembinder.nl.
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive A-B, Bezembinder, Paul, POETRY IN TRANSLATION: BEZEMBINDER
Italy versus England
With all its sinful doings, I must say,
That Italy’s a pleasant place to me,
Who love to see the sun shine every day,
And vines (not nailed to walls) from tree to tree
Festooned, much like the back scene of a play,
Or melodrame, which people flock to see,
When the first act is ended by a dance
In vineyards copied from the South of France.
I like on autumn evenings to ride out,
Without being forced to bid my groom be sure
My cloak is round his middle strapped about,
Because the skies are not the most secure ;
I know too that, if stopped upon my route,
Where the green alleys windingly allure,
Reeling with grapes red wagons choke the way.—
In England ’twould be dung, dust, or a dray.
I also like to dine on becaficas,
To see the sun set, sure he’ll rise to-morrow,
Not through a misty morning twinkling weak as
A drunken man’s dead eye in maudlin sorrow,
But with all Heaven to himself ; the day will break as
Beauteous as cloudless, nor be forced to borrow
That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers
Where reeking London’s smoky cauldron simmers.
I love the language, that soft bastard Latin,
Which melts like kisses from a female mouth,
And sounds as if it should be writ on satin,
With syllables which breathe of the sweet South,
And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in,
That not a single accent seems uncouth,
Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural,
Which we’re obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all.
I like the women too (forgive my folly!),
From the rich peasant cheek of ruddy bronze,
And large black eyes that flash on you a volley
Of rays that say a thousand things at once,
To the high Dama’s brow, more melancholy,
But clear, and with a wild and liquid glance,
Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes,
Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.
Eve of the land which still is Paradise !
Italian Beauty ! didst thou not inspire
Raphael, who died in thy embrace, and vies
With all we know of Heaven, or can desire,
In what he had bequeathed us ?—in what guise,
Though flashing from the fervour of the lyre,
Would words described thy past and present glow,
While yet Canova can create below ?
‘England ! with all thy faults I love thee still’,
I said at Calais, and have not forgot it ;
I like to speak and lucubrate my fill ;
I like the government (but that is not it) ;
I like the freedom of the press and quill ;
I like the Habeas Corpus (when we’ve got it) ;
I like a Parliamentary debate,
Particularly when ’tis not too late ;
I like the taxes, when they’re not too many ;
I like a seacoal fire, when not too dear ;
I like a beef-steak, too, as well as any ;
Have no objection to a pot of beer ;
I like the weather,—when it is not rainy,
That is, I like two months of every year.
And so God save the Regent, Church, and King !
Which means that I like all and every thing.
Our standing army, and disbanded seamen,
Poor’s rate, Reform, my own, the nation’s debt,
Our little riots just to show we’re free men,
Our trifling bankruptcies in the Gazette,
Our cloudy climate, and our chilly women,
All these I can forgive, and those forget,
And greatly venerate our recent glories,
And wish they were not owing to the Tories.
Lord Byron (1788-1824)
Italy versus England
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive A-B, Byron, Lord
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