The number 6 of the journal the South East, published by Editions No Place, has just been published.
Journal highlighting the cultures of the Balkans in their plurality, it consists of articles, translations of literary texts and photographs.
This particular issue contains a translation of eight texts Migjeni (1911-1938), author whose style and themes resolutely realistic marked the history of Albanian literature. These texts were never published in French, dismissed at the time Fayard publication of a collection of short stories translated by Jusuf Vrioni (Migjeni, Chronicles of a northern city , Paris, Fayard, 1990). The eight new that we have chosen to propose to the French reader for the first time are:
- A letter from the Village (1934)
- A chorus of My City (1934)
- The Forbidden Fruit (1935)
- In the church (1935)
- Little Luli (1936)
- May God give it to you (1936)
- The program of a journal (1936)
- Cherries (1936)
I this is an excerpt of the first text, A letter from village, where, in a letter form, Migjeni is positioned intellectually and given a universal sensitivity to his own and his own suffering (he is in frail health), while declaring his love for his hometown (later in the extract).
past, religious Christians in the desert and in caves isolated, penetrated deep into their ego and to see God's wonders and miracles. I, too, in this village, I dive into myself, running into a subjectivism of the most extreme, but not for God and see its wonders or to miracles. I lose myself in myself for another reason, more pleasing to my eyes. I have nothing else to do during my evening walks in the deserted fields (maybe not so deserted, but filled with a world incomprehensible to me). I walk, I walk on locked myself heedless step I take, slow at first then faster and faster still until my feet get caught in brambles and bring me back to me: "Hey! slower ... where did you leave? "I drive my walk in another direction and my thoughts also spontaneously, without any transition. My thoughts are not then those of a man happy in life but those of someone who suffers. I suffer with the child whose parents have not purchased a toy, I suffer with the young man who is consumed with eroticism, I suffer with the fiftieth anniversary drowning in apathy of life, I suffer with the old man trembling with fear of death, I suffer with the farmer who struggles against the earth, I suffer with the worker wounded by the sword, I suffer with patients of all diseases in the world, but I do not suffer continued with this fly by the swallow and whose sister is an old complaint: "The poor is a creature of God." I suffer with man! And I think, dear T., this metamorphosis is not a selfish, as some claim, but something that asserts itself in people who, by chance, for a time, are outside of materialism brutal. These sad thoughts hurt my feelings and irritate me. You say, T. I am an incurable pessimist attracted by the elegant style of Schopenhauer. But no, I admire the style of Schopenhauer, but his feelings and thoughts are for me only areas where readers can sample any the beauty of style, so I'm not schopenhaueriste, I am not pessimistic because I believe in a man's strength, I believe in superman. (Thinking thus, I come in someone's ear the words: "Your faith has saved you!") If you share these thoughts, I recommend that belief, more modern and adapted to today's world: the belief in Superman!
From "Migjeni and refrains of his city", text translated and introduced by Ermones Wilmart and Michael Wilmore, the South East (Editions No Place), No. 6, April 2010, p. 63-78.
0 comments:
Post a Comment