With two of his sons, but otherwise unprotected, Bernabò rode to the rendezvous outside the gates. Gian Galeazzo, accompanied by a large bodyguard, dismounted, embraced his uncle and, while holding him tightly, called out an order in German, upon which one of his generals, the condottiero Jacopo del Verme, cut Bernabo’s sword belt while another, crying “You are a prisoner!,” seized his baton of office and took him in custody. Immediately Gian Galeazzo’s forces galloped through Milan and occupied its strong points. Because of his reasonable government of Pavia, the populace was ready to welcome him as a deliverer, and greeted him with cries of “ Viva il Conte! ” followed by their first thought on removal of the tyrant, “Down with taxes!” To smooth the transition, Gian Galeazzo allowed the mob to sack Bernabò’s palace and burn the tax registers.
«Birden Paris'teki çeşitli mahallelerde aynı anda yaşanan pek çok şey gözlerinin önüne geldi: TURİST MAHALLESİ olan St. Germain des Près'de tabaklardaki pizzalar çekiştiriliyor, karnı acıkan turistler lokantaların önünde kararsızlık içinde mönüleri inceliyorlardı; İŞÇİ MAHALLESİ Ménilmontant'da işçiler, "Au rendezvous des chauffeurs" isimli, bugün üç-beş entelektüelin de geldiği gerçek bir İŞÇİ BİSTROSUNDA akşam iş çıkışı bira içiyorlardı; YABANCILAR MAHALLESİ Belleville'de siyahlar gruplaşıyordu, birkaçı kapüşonlu uzun gömlek giymişti, ellerinde bira kutularıyla hiç konuşmadan açık havada duruyorlardı; ZENGİNLERİN MAHALLESİ olan Auteuil'de burjuvaların kızlarıyla oğullarına, İngiliz tarzı döşenmiş PUBLARDA garsonlar FRANSIZ birası mı yoksa ITHAL bira mı içmek istediklerini soruyordu; - ve kentin her yerinde kullanılmayan tilt makineleri parıldıyor, kullanılanlar takırdıyor, bulvarlardaki çınar ve kestane ağaçları hışırdıyor, metro yol alırken vagonlarının arasındaki siyah kemer kayışları sağa sola kayıyor, âşıklar göz göze bakışıyor, hâlâ çalışan WIMPY'lerde HAMBURGERLERİN altında yumuşamış soğan halkaları duruyordu - ve bütün bunlar, diye düşündü Keuschnig, hiç değişmeyen ışığa gözleri yanarak bakarken, insan olarak belki de iyi huylu denebilecek kadının şimdi örneğin meze olarak vinegret soslu avokadoyu hazırladığı gibi, her yıl aynı kaçınılmazlıkla, aynı kestirilebilirlikle, ölesiye bıktırarak, insanı kahreden bir ayrıcalıksızlıkla yaşanacak.»
Sayfa 60
Song of Myself (II)
40
Flaunt of the sunshine I need not your bask—lie over!
You light surfaces only, I force surfaces and depths also.
Earth! you seem to look for something at my hands,
Say, old top-knot, what do you want?
Man or woman, I might tell how I like you, but cannot,
And might tell what it is in me and what it is in you, but cannot,
And might tell that pining I have, that pulse of my nights and days.
Behold, I do not give lectures or a little charity,
When I give I give myself.
You there, impotent, loose in the knees,
Open your scarf’d chops till I blow grit within you,
Spread your palms and lift the flaps of your pockets,
I am not to be denied, I compel, I have stores plenty and to spare,
And any thing I have I bestow.
I do not ask who you are, that is not important to me,
You can do nothing and be nothing but what I will infold you.
To cotton-field drudge or cleaner of privies I lean,
On his right cheek I put the family kiss,
And in my soul I swear I never will deny him.
Ache of SeperationŞiir
After seeing the vast sea, no water can compare;
Scattered from the peak of Mount Wu, there are no other clouds;
Many times I’ve passed through the flowers, yet I spare them no glance;
For half my fate is in cultivation, and the other half, in you.
Written by the Tang poet Yuan Zhen, this poem expresses his eternal love and devotion to his dead wife. Mount Wu is a mythical place, and its usage in this piece alludes to an idiom, “the colorful clouds surrounding Mount Wu,” which means “rendezvous of lovers.”
No one had ever expected that, sooner or later, the stars would call to them.
'But at least we have answered one ancient question. We are not alone. The stars will never again be the same to us.'