Poezii in filme
 

Unul dintre filmele pe care l-am vazut de foarte multe ori pe la 13-14 ani, si, de cate ori am ocazia îl revãd(deºi ºtiu ca mã port copilãreºte, pur si simplu nu mã pot abþine), este Spendour in the Grass (Elia Kazan, 1961). Printre lucrurile care mi-au rãmas in minte din film se numãra si poezia cu acelaºi nume a lui William Wordsworth. Asta mi-a rãmas in minte cu precãdere si, ori de cate ori sunt amarata sau viata mi se pare nedreapta, la fel ca Natalie Wood, mi-o repet in gând… ”wherever I am”.
Iat-o:

”What though the radiance
which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass,
of glory in the flower,
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind”

Cealalta poezie la care vreau sa ma refer este cea pe care Karen (Meryl Streep) o citeste la mormantul lui Denys (Robert Redford) in Out of Africa (Sydney Pollack, 1985). Poezia i-apartine lui A.E. Housman si se numeste ”To a Young Athlete Dying”. Si pe aceasta am invatat-o, filmul-gazda nefacand exceptie, nici el, de la sindromul mai-multe-vizionari-fara-rost:

”If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe
and the African new moon lying on her back,
of the plows in the fields
and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers…
does the Africa know a song of me?
Will the air over the plain
Quiver with a colour that I have had on?
Or will the children invent a game
In which my name is?
Or the full moon throw a shadow
Over the gravel of the drive
That was like me?
Or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills
Look out for me?”

Acesta este deci topicul pe care vreau sa vi-l propun: poezia in filme. Dar nu orice poezie, ci una cu semnificatii sau careia i s-a acordat timp si atentie in film…

Sper sa nu mai fi fost acest topic; sincer, mi-a fost imposibil sa le parcurg in amanunt.

Astept raspuns in special de la cinefilo-poieti. :)

Nu intru in target, dar voiam sa intreb altceva. Daca stie cineva din ce sint versurile de la finalul 'Privirii lui Ulise', ca mi s-au parut foarte misto. Suna a Biblie, suna a G. Seferis, nu stiu. Anyone?

e Seferis

cum ii zice? s-o caut pe net
mersi

nu stiu exact de unde e luata...

si in momentul intalnirii dintre A si prietenul sau, in Belgrad, sunt folosite cuvintele poetului...alea cu "when God created the world..."

cred ca o cautam impreuna... De aia merge netu' asa greeeu?? :)

asta cautam:

When I return, it will be with another man's clothes, another man's name. My coming will be unexpected. If you look at me unbelieving, and say, You are not he, I will show you signs, and you will believe me. I will tell you about the lemon tree in your garden. The corner window that lets in the moonlight and then the signs of the body, the signs of love. And as we climb trembling to our old room, betwen one embrace and the next, between lovers' calls, I will tell you about the journey, all the night long. And in all the nights to come, between one embrace and the next, between lovers' calls, the whole human story. The story that never ends.

Nu stiu cine se intoarce in poezia asta: o fi Iisus, o fi vreun simplu mort.

@Ambra

da...

imi plac si astea: "When God created the world the first thing he made were journeys [...] then came doubt and nostalgia."

si poeziile din Dead Poets Society (r. Peter Weir) :

1. “O Captain! My Captain!” – Walt Whitman ( volumul “Leaves of Grass”)

“O Captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O Heart ! heart ! heart !
O, the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.”


2. “To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time” - Robert Herrick
“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a- flying:
And this same flowers that
Smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying”

3. “O Me! O Life! – Walt Whitman ( tot vol. “Leaves of Grass”)

“O Me! O Life!...of the questions of these reccuring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless – of cities fill’d with foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself,(for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light – of the objects mean-of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all-of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest-with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring-What good amid these, O me, O life?”


De a-2-a stiu sigur ca este amintita in film, celelalte sunt poate doar mentionate.

sau versurile din Oglinda lui Tarkovski scrise de tatal lui, Arseni Tarkovski.
Din pacate nu le stiu, tre' sa le caut... Pare-mi-se ca le recita chiar Andrei Tarlovski in film. Am I wrong?

"Under the spreading chestnut tree
I sold you and you sold me
There lie they, and here lie we
Under the spreading chestnut tree"

"my daddy was a dollar
i wrote once on a fence
my daddy was a dollar
not worth 100 cents".
off.

i'm so pretty, oh so pretty, i'm so pretty, and witty and gaaaaaaaay...

s-asa-mai-desparte...

apropo de arseni.

insert.

"blanda soarta-mi zambea
drept in palma mi-a pus
a norocului stea
insa n-a fost deajuns".

poezia e FOARTE misto, o aveam undeva in subsolurile rep-lui, pana m-am decis ca e mai sanatos sa nu.dommage.
trebuie sa o gasesc din nou, pentru ca nu o mai tin minte ca lumea.

sau-mai-bine-zis: ;)

I feel pretty,
Oh, so pretty,
I feel pretty
And witty
And bright,
And I pity
And girl who isn't me tonight!

I feel charming
And enchanting,
It's alarming
How charming I feel,
And so pretty
That I hardly can believe I'm real!

One-two, Freddy is coming for you,
three-four, better lock the doo,
five-six, get a crucifix,
seven-eight, better stay up late,
nine-ten, NEVER SLEEP AGAIN!!

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!

This is my favourite, sper ca am scris corect.

traducerea in romaneste a poeziei lui Arseni Tarkovski e defectuoasa, uneori amatoristica (eu am gasit niste variante la Elena Dulgheru - exista si altele? unde, cine?). poate gasesc eu timp sa fac o varianta mai buna, mai fidela originalului.
Iata varianta ruseasca a ceea ce a citat - fragmentar - obvious, un poem care rasuna in "Stalker", in lectura lui Smoktunovski:

"Vot i leto proshlo
Slovno i ne bîvalo
Na prigreve teplo
Toliko etogo malo

Vsio, chto sbîtsea moglo,
Mne kak list patipalîi,
Preamo v ruki leglo
Toliko etogo malo.

Ponaprasnu ni zlo
Ni dobro ne propalo
Vsio gorelo svetlo
Toliko etogo malo.

Jizni brala pod krîlo
Beregla i spasala,
Mne i vpravdu vezlo
Toliko etogo malo.

Listiev ne obojglo,
Vetok ne oblomalo
Deni promît, kak steklo
Toliko etogo malo.

Si un vers remarcabil din acelasi A. Tarkovski, care rasuna in "Oglinda":
"Cand destinul calca pe urmele noastre,
Ca un nebun cu briciul în mana"

Ni asam roman, i asam bulgar. Foarte interesant.

M-o fi stigand pe mine?

da :P

topicul poate include si asta(sau altele asemanatoare):

“And when the lamb had opened the seventh seal…
There was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour
And the seven angels which had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound
The first angel sounded and there followed
hail and fire mingled with blood..
And they were cast upon the earth
And the third part of the trees was burnt up…
And all the green grass was burnt up
And the second angel sounded….
And as it were a great mountain burning with fire
Was cast into the sea
And the third part of the sea became blood
And the third angel sounded
And there fell a great star from heaven
Burning as if it were a lamp
And the name of the star
Is called Wormwood”

Filmul nu e extraordinar, dar poezia este minunata.

I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme.

I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call.
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

Din "10 things I hate about you"


Si rugaciunea din "Bondock Saints"

And shepherds we shall be,
For Thee, my Lord, for Thee.
Power hath descended forth from Thy hand,
That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command.
So we shall flow a river forth to Thee,
And teeming with souls shall it ever be.

BTW, dupa 10 ani apare Bondock Saints 2 .... Abia astept :X

Din "21 grams"

The Earth Turned to Bring Us Closer

by Eugenio Montejo
translated by Peter Boyle

The earth turned to bring us closer,
it spun on itself and within us,
and finally joined us together in this dream
as written in the Symposium.
Nights passed by, snowfalls and solstices;
time passed in minutes and millennia.
An ox cart that was on its way to Nineveh
arrived in Nebraska.
A rooster was singing some distance from the world,
in one of the thousand pre-lives of our fathers.
The earth was spinning with its music
carrying us on board;
it didn't stop turning a single moment
as if so much love, so much that's miraculous
was only an adagio written long ago
in the Symposium's score.