The Survivor
Primo LeviThe Survivor Gönderileri
The Survivor kitaplarını, The Survivor sözleri ve alıntılarını, The Survivor yazarlarını, The Survivor yorumları ve incelemelerini 1000Kitap'ta bulabilirsiniz.Airport
We're leaving. The great cavelike bird
Sucks up everyone indiscriminately:
We cross Acheron
Via a telescopic concourse.
It taxis, accelerates, gathers power,
Lifts off, and suddenly is raised into the sky
Body and soul: our bodies and souls.
Are we worthy of Assumption?
Now it flies into the purple twilight
Over the ice of nameless seas,
Or above a mantle of dark clouds,
As if this planet of ours
Had hidden its face in shame.
Now it's flying with dull thuds
Almost as if someone were driving piles
Into the Stygian swamp;
Now along soft,
Smoothed tracks of air.
The night is without sleep, but brief,
Brief the way no night has ever been:
Light and carefree like a first night.
Sayfa 56Kitabı okudu
The vulture that gnaws at me every evening
Has the face of everyman.
Sayfa 50Kitabı okudu
Passover
Tell me: how is this night
Different from all other nights?
Tell me, how is this Passover
Different from other Passovers?
Light the light, unbar the door
So that the traveler may enter,
Be he Gentile or Jew:
Perhaps the prophet is hidden under his rags.
Enter and sit with us,
Listen, drink, and sing and celebrate Passover.
Eat the bread of
Sayfa 37Kitabı okudu
Autobiography
I'm old like the world, I who speak to you.
In the dark of origins
I swarmed in the blind furrows of the sea,
Blind myself: but already I wanted the light
When I was still lying in the sea floor's filth.
I swilled salt with a thousand infinitesimal throats;
I was a fish, sleek and fast. I avoided traps,
I showed my young the sidewise tracks of the crab.
Taller than a tower, I offended the sky,
The mountains trembled at my storming step
And my brute hulk obstructed the valleys:
The rocks of your time still sport
The incredible mark of my scales.
I sang to the moon the liquid song of the toad,
And my patient hunger perforated wood.
Impetuous skittish stag
I ran through woods that are ashes today, and gloried in my strength.
I was drunk cicada, astute horrendous tarantula,
And salamander and scorpion and unicorn and asp.
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Heart of Wood
My next-door neighbor's sturdy:
A horse chestnut on Corso Re Umberto;
My age but he doesn't seem it,
He shelters sparrows and crows, and has no
shame
Putting out buds and leaves in April,
Fragile flowers in May, and in September
Burrs with harmless spines
That hold shiny, tannic chestnuts.
An impostor, but naïve: he wants to seem
Like his fine mountain brother's rival,
Lord of sweet fruit and rare mushrooms.
It's not a happy life. The number 8
And 19 trams run across his roots
Every five minutes, leaving him deaf,
And he grows twisted, as if he wants to escape.
Year after year, he sucks up gentle poisons
From the methane-saturated subsoil;
He's drenched by dog piss,
The striations on his bark get clogged
With the avenues’ polluted dust;
Under his bark hang desiccated
Chrysalises that will never be butterflies.
Still, in his slow-witted wooden heart
He senses and enjoys the changing seasons.
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The Girl of Pompeii
Since the anguish of each belongs to us all
We're still living yours, scrawny little girl
Clinging convulsively to your mother
As if you wanted to get back inside her
When the sky went black that afternoon.
To no avail, because the sky, turned poison,
Infiltrated the shut windows of your quiet
House with its thick walls to find you
Happy
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