onsdag den 29. februar 2012
mandag den 27. februar 2012
Practicalities ()
"I’m told men often do the rough work and that you often see them in the household section of department stores. I don’t even answer that sort of thing. Rough work is fun for men. To cut down trees after a day at the office isn’t work – it’s a kind of game. Of course, if you tell a man of ordinary build and average strength what needs doing – he does it. Wash up a couple of plates – he does it. Do the shopping – he does it. But he has a terrible tendency to think he is a hero if goes out and buys some potatoes. Still, never mind."
- Translated by Barbara Bray
fredag den 24. februar 2012
Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy
His mood was subdued, even a little glum. Like an actor, he had a sense of approaching anti-climax before the curtain went up, a sense of great things dwindling to a small, mean end; as death itself seemed small and mean to him after the struggles of his life. He had no sense of conquest that he knew of. His thoughts, as often when he was afraid, concerned people. He had no theories or judgements in particular. He simply wondered how everyone would be affected; and he felt responsible.
…
He had often wondered which side he would be on if the test ever came; after prolonged reflection he had finally to admit that if either monolith had to win the day, he would prefer it to be the East.
“It’s an aesthetic judgement as much as anything,” he explained, looking up. “Partly a moral one, of course.”
“Of course,” said Smiley politely.
torsdag den 23. februar 2012
søndag den 19. februar 2012
lørdag den 18. februar 2012
fredag den 17. februar 2012
torsdag den 16. februar 2012
tirsdag den 14. februar 2012
mandag den 13. februar 2012
Den vilde fårejagt
”Jeg er ikke ekspert i Farah Fawcetts næse,” sagde jeg og tog en lille slurk vin. Så glemte jeg, hvad det var, jeg var ved at sige.
- oversat af --- fra den engelske oversættelse af ---.
Norwegian Wood
”Jeg slog op med ham … sådan,” sagde hun, stak en Marlboro i munden, skærmede for den med hånden, tændte den og tog et sug.
”Hvorfor?”
”Hvorfor?” skreg hun. ”Er du dag fuldkommen idiot?! Du har styr på engelsk konjunktiv, du forstår dig på trigonometri, og du har læst Marx, og alligevel fatter du ingenting. Hvordan kan du spørge om sådan noget? Hvordan kan du tvinge en pige til at skulle sige sådan noget? Fatter du slet ikke, at jeg bedre kan lide dig end ham? Jeg ville da gerne have forelsket mig i en fur, der så bedre ud, men nu er det altså dig, jeg har forelsket mig i.”
- Oversat af Mette Fugl.
torsdag den 2. februar 2012
Not Sadness Which is Always There
After I had learned to live with my sadness
There came another, more disturbing strangeness
Whose purpose I could never understand, who always came late at night
And who kept me awake all hours
Until I turned on the headlamp to read,
As if finally forced to concede,
Not understanding that some things have nothing to do with the Will.
I who had conducted my life so that
I could not do other that what I do,
Who had steered my heavy ship around and around
Until it could only steer in one direction,
I saw no way to put this turmoil to good use.
It was not sadness, which is always there
like a cat I raised from childhood and stroke absent-mindedly
Not even loneliness, which I had trained to back down
In the presence of good company,
But something more needy.
Even as I sit with friends in the Hungarian pastry shop
Dawdling over sweets,
I am shaken by the urge to run home
To be alone with it, to let it work be over,
The mice combing the bag of day-old crumbs
Raking my stomach for overlooked mistakes.
onsdag den 1. februar 2012
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