Bogi

“We go out on the balcony. It's spring. Below, in the middle of the street, a yellow-curled boy works lickety-split, sketching a god. The god stretches from one sidewalk to the other. The boy is clutching a piece of chalk in his hand, a little piece of white charcoal and he's squatting, circling, drawing with broad strokes. This white god has large white buttons and turned-out feet. Crucified on the asphalt, he looks skyward with round eyes. He has a white arc for a mouth. A log-sized cigar has appeared in his mouth. With helical jabs the boy makes spirals representing smoke. Arms akimbo, he contemplates his work. He adds another button....”
Gods e o poveste de-un lirism sfisietor; un cuplu tinar se agata cu disperare de soarele primavaratic, de animatia orasului in care-au emigrat, in incercarea de a redescoperi frumusetea vietii dupa tragedia pierderii propriului copil... atit de mic. Nu stiu daca e vorba de-o experienta personala a lui Nabokov, insa durerea pe care tinarul barbat o citeste in ochii sotiei e redata cu atita tristete, incit descrierea ei te induioseaza. Dimitri Nabokov, fiul scriitorului si cel care a tradus povestirea, spune ca ea a fost scrisa pe cind Nabokov lucra la cea mai importanta piesa a lui de teatru, “Tragedia Doamnei Morn”.
P.S. De pe acelasi podcast, am mai auzit “Youth, Beautiful Youth” a lui Herman Hesse, o povestire despre amintirea intoarcerii acasa a unui tinar plecat la studii (e calda, melancolica si poetica, e ceva neasteptat de la Hesse, din punctul meu de vedere) si “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?” a lui Joyce Carol Oates, o incercare “In Cold Blood”, realistica si empatica.
No comments:
Post a Comment