Leaving: A Poem from the Time of the Virus - Hardcover

Nooteboom, Cees

 
9780857428837: Leaving: A Poem from the Time of the Virus

Inhaltsangabe

<b>An exceptionally current volume of poems from one of Europe&#8217;s greatest poets that dwell on the most pressing reality of our times: the coronavirus pandemic.</b><br><br> One of the leading living European writers, Cees Nooteboom never shies away from contemporary issues. His latest collection of poems, <i>Leaving</i>, begins in a garden with descriptions of Mediterranean plants, but what emerges are memories of the war&#8212;images of a distant past that have never disappeared. The poems take another turn when, unexpectedly, a mysterious virus takes control of the world and turns life upside down.<br> &#160;<br> A collection that can be read as a single poem, in which desolation and beauty, past and future, nostalgia and mortality all merge to represent the most mature work of a great poet. German artist Max Neumann&#8217;s haunting images that accompany the poems work as complex visual metaphors that further underline the beauty and the gravity of the poems. Together, they make for a delicate and thoughtful read.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

<b>Cees Nooteboom</b>&#160;is one of Europe&#8217;s leading living authors. His poetry, novels and, travel literature have been translated into many languages. Several of his books, including <i>Light Everywhere </i>and <i>Monk&#8217;s Eye, </i>are also available from Seagull Books. <b>Max Neumann</b> is a German artist. <b>David Colmer</b> is an award-winning translator.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

The end of the end, the man in the winter garden<br> Asked himself, what could that be?<br> If nothing else, he thought, not any kind of sorrow.<br> He looked outside and saw a cloud that looked<br> &#160;<br> Like a cloud, as grey as lead, too heavy<br> For every balance, the bare fig against the wall<br> With the thousand-year-old stones,<br> The geese next door, their disapproval,<br> &#160;<br> The way the night needed to be set right,<br> The grammar of expropriation, nobody<br> Themselves anymore, not a single apparition,<br> Withdrawal after defeat<br> &#160;<br> But no destination.<br> &#160;<br> &#160;<br> He&#39;d seen that in the war, defeated soldiers<br> In retreat, frightened, dirty, the mouths<br> That sang so heartily when they marched in<br> Now closed. They had sung of triumph,<br> &#160;<br> Their tiny lives had suddenly expanded,<br> Fitted with new futures, victims, others<br> To maltreat, the back of the mirror,<br> Now turned again, the fate of destiny.<br> &#160;<br> He remembered it well, the humbled back<br> She saw again now. He was no army but felt<br> The lesson like a rabbit feels the hunter&#8217;s blow,<br> Imposed without mercy and<br> &#160;<br> All over.<br><br> &#160;<br> The war that never stopped coming back,<br> A guest who&#8217;s known to all, a toothless<br> Kiss, the language of intimate betrayal<br> Around him now again, remembering a past<br> &#160;<br> He couldn&#8217;t share with anyone. His father,<br> A man in a dinner suit leaning on the railing<br> Of the boulevard, his mother alongside the future<br> Deceased, already wrapped in the time to come,<br> &#160;<br> And he himself still hidden, the world a cloud<br> Without rules, and behind his parents the sea,<br> The warning no one wanted to hear, always<br> The same, the sound of indrawn breath,<br> &#160;<br> Devouring so much.<br> &#160;<br> &#160;

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