05-03-17

Pier Paolo Pasolini, Koos van Zomeren, Jurre van den Berg, Arthur van Schendel, Nelly Arcan, Danny King, Jean Orizet

 

De Italiaanse filmregisseur, dichter en schrijver Pier Paolo Pasolini werd geboren in Bologna op 5 maart 1922. Zie ook alle tags voor Pier Paolo Pasolini op dit blog.

Uit: Seven Poems for Ninetto

6/

When you have been in pain for so long
and for so many months it has been the same, you resist it,
but it remains a reality in which you are caught.

It is a reality that wants only to see me dead.

And yet I do not die. I am like someone who is nauseous
and does not vomit, who does not surrender
despite the pressure of Authority. Yet, Sir,

I, like the entire world, agree with you.

It is better that we are kept at a far distance.
Instead of dying I will write to you.

In this way, I preserve intact my critique

of your hypocritical way of life,
which has been my sole joy in the world.

 

7/
After much weeping, in secret
and in front of you, after having staged
many acts of desperation, you made
the final decision to surrender

and never to be seen again. I am done.

I have acted like a madman. I will not let the water run
from the source of my evil and my good:
these pacts between men are not for you or perhaps

you’re too skilled in the art of breaking them,

guided by a Genie that gives you certainty
by which you are transfigured. You

know the right button to push.

When I speak you tell me “no”
and I tremble with disgust and fury
at the thought of our unforgettable happy hours.

 

 
Pier Paolo Pasolini (5 maart 1922 – 2 november 1975
Ninetto Davoli en Pier Paolo Pasolini

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05-03-16

Pier Paolo Pasolini, Arthur van Schendel, Koos van Zomeren, Jurre van den Berg, Nelly Arcan, Danny King, Jean Orizet

 

De Italiaanse filmregisseur, dichter en schrijver Pier Paolo Pasolini werd geboren in Bologna op 5 maart 1922. Zie ook alle tags voor Pier Paolo Pasolini op dit blog.

Uit: Seven Poems for Ninetto

 

3/
That Freud that you enjoy reading doesn’t
clarify what I desire. You came here,
and I repeat –Nothing binds you to me.
Yet you decide to stay.
 
The man who prays and does not feel shame, who desires 
his mother’s nest for comfort, will lead a false life.
A desolate life. You will deny this.
But remember his cry is not for you.
It is for his own ass.
You came to teach me things I had not known before
but the angel appears and you are silent again.
He is soon gone. And still you are anxious.

Pleasure suspends my anguish.
But I know afterwards regret will shatter our fragile peace.


4/
There existed in this world a thing without price.
It was unique.   Few were aware of it.
No code of the Church could classify it.
I confronted it midway on life’s journey
with no guide to lead me through this hell.
In the end there was no sense in it
tho it consumed the whole of my reality.
You wanted to destroy any good that came from it,
slowly, slowly, with your delicate hands.
You were not devoted and yet I cannot understand                                                                       
why there was so much fury in your soul
against a love that was so chaste.

 

 
Pier Paolo Pasolini (5 maart 1922 – 2 november 1975
Ninetto Davoli, Franco Citti en Pier Paolo Pasolini

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05-03-15

Pier Paolo Pasolini, Arthur van Schendel, Koos van Zomeren, Jurre van den Berg, Nelly Arcan

 

De Italiaanse filmregisseur, dichter en schrijver Pier Paolo Pasolini werd geboren in Bologna op 5 maart 1922. Zie ook alle tags voor Pier Paolo Pasolini op dit blog.

Uit: Seven Poems for Ninetto

 

1/
Your place was at my side,
and you were proud of this.
But, sitting with your arm on the steering wheel
you said, “I can’t go on. I must stay here, alone.”

If you remain in this provincial village you’ll fall into a trap.
We all do. I don’t know how or when but you will.
The years that comprise a life vanish in an instant.

You are quiet, pensive. I know it is love
that is tearing us apart.

I have given you
all the power of my existence,
yet you are humble and proud, obeying a destiny
that wants you to remain impoverished. You don’t know
what to do, whether to give in or not.

I can’t pretend your resistance
doesn’t cause me pain.
I can see the future. There is blood on the sand.


2/
I think of you and I say to myself: “ I have lost him.”
I cannot bear the pain and wish I were dead. A minute
or so passes and I reconsider. With joy 

I take back strength from your image. I refuse to cry.
My mind is changed.
Then again I consider you, lost and alone.

Who is this ugly gentleman
who does not understand what concerns him most? Are you
or are you not this Other,

he who always loses without really dying?
He is my double: I, pedantic. He, informal.

Knowledge of him has changed everything in my life.
He says that if I am lost he will find me.
He knows that when he does I will be dead.

 

 
Pier Paolo Pasolini (5 maart 1922 – 2 november 1975)
Paolo Pasolini en Ninetto Davoli

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05-03-12

Danny King, Nelly Arcan, Jean Orizet, Leslie Marmon Silko

 

De Britse schrijver Danny King werd geboren op 5 maart 1969 in Slough, Berkshire. Zie ook alle tags voor Danny King op dit blog.

 

Uit: The Pornographer Diaries

 

„Real, no joking naked ladies nudey mag. And it was amazing. Big round boobs and big hairy fannies that were so real I didn't need to use my imagination any more. Whole glossy pages of pink, bare flesh with just a hint of bird shit and mildew that was suddenly more fascinating and exhilarating than hunting Christmas presents or finding my big sister's diary. See, just lately I'd been finding women's bodies fascinating - not girls, not the little girls in my class, I still didn't care about them, I was talking about women - my friends' mums or even some of my mum's friend and I had a recurring fantasy about my form tutor Miss Jenkins keeping me behind after school to sit on my head, but I was still in the process of putting all the pieces together. Nudey mags seemed to hold some interesting clues. I'd heard all about these magazines before of course. Gary Allison had told us that he'd seen one his dad's stashed away in the shed and it was stacked full of pictures of ladies that had to take all their clothes off and stand in front of the camera while people took pictures of them. Barry had asked if they were covering themselves up with their hands or standing sideways or something and Gary had reassured us all that they were 'standing facing the camera and you can see everything.' At this point someone might as well have told me that the universe went on forever for all the ability I had to comprehend this. 'Everything!' David Tinnings exclaimed and normally we would've told him to fuck off and go and play with his flute but most of us were suddenly far to busy rearranging our trousers at this point. 'Bring it in,' Barry urged him. 'No I can't, it's my dad's, he'd kill me,' Gary replied. 'Yeah, Jimmy Hill. Your pants are on fire,' Neil Barratt responded, then added, 'He's lying,' for those of us who didn't know what the fuck he was going on about. 'I'm not,' he insisted. 'Then bring it in,' the whole of the first year waded in.“

 

 

Danny King (Slough, 5 maart 1969)

 

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05-03-11

Pier Paolo Pasolini, Arthur van Schendel, Koos van Zomeren, Danny King, Nelly Arcan, Jean Orizet, Leslie Marmon Silko

 

De Italiaanse filmregisseur, dichter en schrijver Pier Paolo Pasolini werd geboren in Bologna op 5 maart 1922. Zie ook mijn blog van 5 maart 2007 en ook mijn blog van 5 maart 2008 en ook mijn blog van 5 maart 2009 en ook mijn blog van 5 maart 2010.

 

 

The Best of Youth

Lord, we are alone you call on us no more.
Year after year, day after day You look on us no more!
Darkness on our side and splendor on your side,
for our sins you feel neither anger nor compassion.
for thirty centuries, nothing, nothing has changed:
nations have united so, united, they wage wars
but our misery's the same as everybody's misery
and only You know how to sort out good from bad!
Work days, dead days! She pushes the wheel barrow
by the railroad tracks then towards the quiet square
and stops in front of the almost-finished staircase
where it crunches the stones baked by the sun.
The gates are shut, two trucks are parked
near the cement slag, flanked by dead bushes
and the old lady pushes the wheel barrow
while holding the tips of a scarf with her teeth.
A young man sits down to blow on his harmonica,
another younger one with horse whip in his hand
feeds hay to his charge then follows his friends
who are dancing carefree by the stands.
They sing, a bit drunk, by early morning
and wear their red hankies around the neck.
Hoarsely they order four liters of wine
and coffee for the girls who are silent and sad.
Come on, trains, take these singing youths
dressed in white shirt and English blazers.
Come on, trains, take them so very far away
roaming the earth to see what they have lost here.
Trains everywhere scatter these once happy men,
They will not laugh when leaving home forever.

 

 

 

Vertaald door Adeodato Piazza Nicolai 

 

 

 

 

Pier Paolo Pasolini (5 maart 1922 – 2 november 1975)

Straatkunst in Rome

 

 

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