Sir[ena]

z

Duccio di Buoninsegna – Invierea lui Lazar (c. 1310)

Chestiile mici raman cele mai interesante. Faptul ca putini le acceseaza, mai ales cand e vorba de mici mizerii literare, le face sa-si pastreze duhoarea irationala cumva nealterata, indelungata. Sunt ca mormantul nedeschis al lui Lazar. Necitate copios, se prefac, amenintator, ca nu stiu despre ce-i vorba. Sunt firmiturile care nu au cazut (inca) de la masa Stapanilor.

Recent, am dat peste mine o astfel de chestie mica, scrijelitura lui Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, autorul super-vomitatului volum Leopardul. Chestia mica se numeste La sirena, tradusa in engleza ca The Professor and the Siren.

Am reusit sa gasesc cateva extrase din Sirena. Probabil ca mi-ar fi placut sa gasesc altele… recunosc. Altele, si nu in engleza.

Ipocrit, imi acopar nasul si citesc.

‘‘Above the fireplace, ancient amphorae and craters: Odysseus tied to the mast of his boat, the sirens casting themselves down onto the rocks in expiation for having let their prey escape. ‘Lies… the lies of petit bourgeois poets. No one escapes, and even if someone did, the Sirens would never destroy themselves for something so little. In any case, how could they die?’’

‘‘Never had she been so adorable as in those fifteen minutes of fury. I watched from the window as she emerged and moved away into the morning mist: tall, slender, adorned with regained elegance. I never saw her again, just as I never saw a black cashmere sweater that had cost me a small fortune and possessed the woeful merit of being cut to suit a woman just as well as a man. All she left were two of those so-called invisible hairpins on the bed’’

‘‘I believed that he also developed a certain affection for me, but I didn’t delude myself… it was similar to what an elderly spinster might feel for her pet goldfinch, whose vacuousness and lack of understanding she is well aware of, but whose existence allows her to express aloud regrets in which the creature plays no part; and yet, if the pet were not there, she would suffer a distinct malaise…’’

‘‘And in truth, the sun, the seclusion, the nights passed beneath the wheeling stars, the silence, the scant nourishment, the study of remote subjects wove around me a spell that predisposed me to marvels.’’

___

> O recenzie, aici.

> O lectura integrala, in italiana, aici.