ko bom imela čas, bom ...
ko je bil čas, je ...
če si vzameš čas, si ...
Tako se je glasil opomnik na III. literarni večer kluba Kljub, ki so ga v dvoranici JSKD na Beethovnovi 12. pripravili gostobesedni dijaki Gimnazije Vič z mentorico Ireno Strelec.
Pesnik večera je bil Ted Hughes, mož s težko življenjsko zgodbo in temu primernih težkih besed. Večer se je iztekel nekoliko prehitro za moj okus, po eni šolski uri smo ostali brez debate - kar pa gre verjetno pripisati tudi majhnemu številu poslušalcev. Škoda, saj je bila vzpostavljena atmosfera kar prava ...
Pesnik večera je bil Ted Hughes, mož s težko življenjsko zgodbo in temu primernih težkih besed. Večer se je iztekel nekoliko prehitro za moj okus, po eni šolski uri smo ostali brez debate - kar pa gre verjetno pripisati tudi majhnemu številu poslušalcev. Škoda, saj je bila vzpostavljena atmosfera kar prava ...
Naslednji literarni večer se ima menda pričakovati v februarju, takrat bolj avtorsko obarvan.
The Thought-Fox (Ted Hughes)
I imagine this midnight moment's forest:
Something else is alive
Beside the clock's loneliness
And this blank page where my fingers move.
Through the window I see no star:
Something more near
Though deeper within darkness
Is entering the loneliness:
Cold, delicately as the dark snow,
A fox's nose touches twig, leaf;
Two eyes serve a movement, that now
And again now, and now, and now
Sets neat prints into the snow
Between trees, and warily a lame
Shadow lags by stump and in hollow
Of a body that is bold to come
Across clearings, an eye,
A widening deepening greenness,
Brilliantly, concentratedly,
Coming about its own business
Till, with sudden sharp hot stink of fox
It enters the dark hole of the head.
The window is starless still; the clock ticks,
The page is printed.
I imagine this midnight moment's forest:
Something else is alive
Beside the clock's loneliness
And this blank page where my fingers move.
Through the window I see no star:
Something more near
Though deeper within darkness
Is entering the loneliness:
Cold, delicately as the dark snow,
A fox's nose touches twig, leaf;
Two eyes serve a movement, that now
And again now, and now, and now
Sets neat prints into the snow
Between trees, and warily a lame
Shadow lags by stump and in hollow
Of a body that is bold to come
Across clearings, an eye,
A widening deepening greenness,
Brilliantly, concentratedly,
Coming about its own business
Till, with sudden sharp hot stink of fox
It enters the dark hole of the head.
The window is starless still; the clock ticks,
The page is printed.
[en] Yesterday we went to a place just a few blocks from where we live, a little hall-almost-chamber in the center to listen to a reading of Ted Hughes's poetry.
The evening was prepared by students of one of the Ljubljana's gymnasiums Gimnazija Vič and their mentor Irena Strelec. In my opinion they established a cozy-appropriate atmosphere for the poems that were read and the only thing I found lacking was the listeners. If there would be more, the evening could just as well continued to a nice debate, ... who knows.
Their next reading is to be excpected in February.
1 komentar:
hvala za promocijo :)
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