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.
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