Friday, January 15, 2016

My silent Friday

Forough Farrokhzad (1935-1967)


My silent Friday,
My deserted Friday,
My Friday: sad, like old abandoned lanes.

My Friday:
The cold day of ailing, idle thoughts,
Moist day of long, evil bore,
loaded with grief,
grief for my faith, for my hope,
Oh, my Friday, this renouncing day
Oh, this empty room,
Oh, this gloomy house…


These isolating walls from attacks of youth,
These collapsing roofs on my slight daydream of light,
In this place of lone, reflection and doubt,
In this space of shade, text, image and sign.

My life, like a mysterious river,
streamed into those silent, deserted days,
so calmly with a lot of pride.

My life, like a mysterious river,
Streamed into those empty, gloomy rooms,
so calmly with a lot of pride.



Translation: Maryam Dilmaghani From the website Forough Farrokhzad The Sad Little Fairy

Sea of Stories

Haroun and the Sea of Stories

Salman Rushdie

Numero Zero

Good read.

Umberto Eco

Thursday, January 14, 2016

Chris' Pie

Why wait till Easter?
'Incredible' recipe
is to be found here.

Friday, January 08, 2016

On the Road

Rain, rain, rain . . .

Die Tutoren

It's not been translated into English yet,
and perhaps will never be.
Its author has not even an English wiki-entry, yet.
It would be an intellectual challenge, you see.

Bora Ċosiċ