Jaan Kaplinski (1941–2021)
Autore di The Same Sea in Us All
Sull'Autore
Opere di Jaan Kaplinski
Ex oriente : tõlkekogumik 6 copie
Kes mida sööb, kes keda sööb 4 copie
Jalgrataste talveuni 3 copie
Jänes 2 copie
Käoraamat : luulet 1956-1980 2 copie
Kaks päikest 1 copia
Mitu suve ja kevadet: Kai Pu lini ja Su Dong po luulet ja märkmeid Mitu suve ja kevadet: Kai Pu lini ja Su Dong po (1995) 1 copia
Käoraamat: Luulet 1956-1980 1 copia
Jää ja Titanic : [essee] 1 copia
Kes mida sööb, kes keda sööb 1 copia
Kust tuli öö 1 copia
Tule tagasi helmemänd 1 copia
Udujutt 1 copia
Kust tuli öö 1 copia
Opere correlate
Etichette
Informazioni generali
- Nome canonico
- Kaplinski, Jaan
- Data di nascita
- 1941-01-22
- Data di morte
- 2021-08-08
- Sesso
- male
- Nazionalità
- Estonia
- Luogo di morte
- Tartu, Estonia
- Causa della morte
- Charcot disease
- Istruzione
- Université de Tartu (Linguistique, Franais)
Lycée Hugo-Treffner - Attività lavorative
- Professeur
Poète
Traducteur (Estonien ∙ Espagnol ∙ Anglais ∙ Russe ∙ Français)
Editeur
Botaniste
Politicien - Relazioni
- Kaplinski, Jerzy (Père)
Toomeet, Tiia (Epouse)
Raudsepp-Kaplinski, Nora (Mère) - Organizzazioni
- Université de Tartu (Professeur)
- Premi e riconoscimenti
- Eino Leinon palkinto (1992)
Vilenica International Literary Prize (2001)
Utenti
Recensioni
Potrebbero anche piacerti
Autori correlati
Statistiche
- Opere
- 85
- Opere correlate
- 6
- Utenti
- 289
- Popolarità
- #80,898
- Voto
- 4.1
- Recensioni
- 5
- ISBN
- 87
- Lingue
- 10
- Preferito da
- 2
This is heartbreaking, from the book Evening Brings Everything Back and available free on Jaan Kaplinski's website:
"My aunt knew them well, I know of them
only names and what other people have told me:
tinkers, haberdashers, attorneys, doctors,
Genss, Michelson, Itzkowitsch, Gulkowitsch...
Where are they now? Some of them were lucky enough
to be buried in this cemetery under a slab with Hebrew letters.
But those my aunt met on the streets of German-occupied Tartu,
with a yellow star sewn to their clothes, and to whom
she even dared to speak to the horror of her friends:
they are not here, they are scattered
into nameless graves, ditches and pits
in many places, many countries, homeless in death
as in life. Maybe some of them are hovering
in the air as a particles of ash, and have not yet
descended to earth. I've thought
that if I were a physicist I would like to study dust,
everything that is hovering in the air, dancing in sunlight,
getting into eyes and mouth, into the ice of Greenland
or between books on the shelf. Maybe one day
I would have met you,
Isaac, Mordechai, Sarah, Esther, Sulamith,
and whoever you were. Maybe even today I breathed in
something of you with this intoxicating spring air;
maybe a flake of you fell today on the white white
apple blossom in my grandfather's garden
or on my grey hair."
I'm not going to type all of this poem out but there's also humour, from the book Through the Forest:
"Politics and politicians are gradually becoming streamlined,
[...]
like the newest cars,
[...]
Their wind resistance is always decreasing;
[...]
[...] race through the community, whose resistance and turbulence have been thoroughly examined on the test circuit."… (altro)