Sayfa 1280/7020 İlkİlk ... 2807801180123012701278127912801281128212901330138017802280 ... SonSon
Arama sonucu : 56156 madde; 10,233 - 10,240 arası.

Konu: Sanat Mozaik

  1. Milano'daki Teatro alla Scala, 3 Agustos 1778'deki acilisini Antonio Salieri'nin operasi Europa Riconosciuta ile yapti.






  2. Ingiliz asker sair Rupert Chawner Brooke'un dogum yildonumu (3 Agustos 1887)

    "Olursem eger, uzak bir kosesinde yabanci diyarlarin.Sonsuza kadar Ingiltere'ye kalacak.Yattigim bir avuc toprak!”



    "If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field. That is for ever England."

  3. Librettosunu Friedrich Schiller’in Jean-Pierre Claris de Florian'in La Suisse libre adli oykusunden uyarladigi, Gioachino Rossini’nin besteledigi 4 perdelik Guglielmo Tell (Guillaume Tell - William Tell) operasi ilk kez 3 Agustos 1829’da Opéra di Parigi (Opéra national de Paris) sahnelendi.


  4. Amerikali sair, edebiyat elestirmeni ve antolojist Hayden Carruth’un dogum yildonumu (3 Agustos 1921)

    Hani bir gun bana
    senin olumune alisabilmem
    katlanabilmem icin
    yokluguna
    niye bir siir yazmiyorsun
    diye sormustun ya bana
    inanmayacaksin ama
    o gun cok ender
    bir gun oldu
    kusura bakma
    gunes degisik dogdu
    bu mevsimde
    bu iklimde
    alisilmadik etkili
    ic isitici
    guzel acik gunesli
    yasam dolu
    hatta olumun golgesi bile
    gecmedi aklimin kosesinden
    nedir nasildir
    dusunmek istemedim
    ellerim varmadi
    olumu resmetmeye
    ulasmak istedim sonsuza
    olanaksiz olsa da
    zaten
    yasamda yasanan tecrubeler
    basmakalip olurmus
    daima
    zamanla
    hatta o unlu soz
    seninle beraber olacagim
    anilarda duslerde
    her yerde
    sen gittikten sonra
    yokluga alistikca
    kaldirilmis raflara
    oysa ben
    gercekten beraber olacagim
    seninle
    en azindan yadigar biraktigim
    binlerce siirle
    bu kisa şiir musveddesi bile
    beni sana animsatacak
    istesen de istemesen de
    duslerinde ve anilarinda
    SIK SIK rahatsiz edecegim seni
    kusura kalma



    Why don’t you write me a poem that will prepare me for your
    death? you said.
    It was a rare day here in our climate, bright and sunny. I didn’t feel like
    dying that day,
    I didn’t even want to think about it – my lovely knees and bold
    shoulders broken open,
    Crawling with maggots. Good Christ! I stood at the window and I saw
    a strange dog
    Running in the field with its nose down, sniffing the snow, zigging and
    zagging,
    And whose dog is that? I asked myself. As if I didn’t know. The limbs
    of the apple trees
    Were lined with snow, making a bright calligraphy against the world,
    messages to me
    From an enigmatic source in an obscure language. Tell me, how shall I
    decipher them?
    And a jay slanted down to the feeder and looked at me behind my glass
    and squawked.
    Prepare, prepare. Fuck you, I said, come back tomorrow. And here he
    is in this new gray and gloomy morning.
    We’re back to our normal weather. Death in the air, the idea of death
    settling around us like mist,
    And I am thinking again in despair, in desperation, how will it happen?
    Will you wake up
    Some morning and find me lying stiff and cold beside you in our bed?
    How atrocious!
    Or will I fall asleep in the car, as I nearly did a couple of weeks ago,
    and drive off the road
    Into a tree? The possibilities are endless and not at all fascinating,
    except that I can’t stop
    Thinking about them, can’t stop envisioning that moment of hideous
    violence.
    Hideous and indescribable as well, because it won’t happen until it’s
    over. But not for you.
    For you it will go on and on, thirty years or more, since that’s the
    distance between us
    In our ages. The loss will be a great chasm with no bridge across it
    (for we both know
    Our life together, so unexpected, is entirely loving and rare). Living
    on your own –
    Where will you go? what will you do? And the continuing sense of
    displacement
    From what we’ve had in this little house, our refuge on our green or
    snowbound
    Hill. Life is not easy and you will be alive. Experience reduces itself to
    platitudes always,
    Including the one which says that I’ll be with you forever in your
    memories and dreams.

  5. Polonya asilli Ingiliz yazar Joseph Conrad'in (Józef Teodor Nalecz Konrad Korzeniowski) olum yildonumu (3 Agustos 1924)

    "Boyle yeteneklerim olsaydi bile, hayatin normal akisinda surdurulen herhangi bir kelime kalabaligi arasinda coktan bogulup gider, kaybolurlardi. Iyi bilindigi gibi, kelimeler gercegin amansiz dusmanidir. Uzun yillardan beri lisan ogretmenligi yapiyorum. Lisan ogretmenligi, siradan bir insanin dogustan payina dusen dus, gozlem ve sezgi gucunu zamanla olduren bir meslektir. Bir lisan ogretmeni icin oyle bir zaman gelir ki; dunya, bir yigin kelimenin mekani, insan ise bir papagandan pek de ustun olmayan ve sadece konusabilen bir hayvan gibi gorunur." Batili Gozler Altinda



    "If I have ever had these gifts in any sort of living form they have been smothered out of existence a long time ago under a wilderness of words.Words, as is well known, are the great foes of reality. I have been for many years a teacher of languages. It is an occupation which at length becomes fatal to whatever share of imagination, observation, and insight an ordinary person may be heir to. To a teacher of languages there comes a time when the world is but a place of many words and man appears a mere talking animal not much more wonderful than a parrot."


    “Zihnimi, dusuncelerimi bos yere isgal ediyorlardi. Bana gore bu insanlar, hayat bilgilerini sinir bozucu yalan ve hileler uzerine kurulu isgalcilerdi; cunku benim bildigim seyleri onlarin bilmelerinin mumkun olmadigindan son derece emindim. Kendilerini kusursuzca emniyette hissederek gundelik yasamlarini surduren siradan insanlarin davranislarindan farksiz olan davranis ve duruslari bana gore, idrak edemedigi bir tehlikenin karsisinda olcusuzce ve abes bir bicimde gosteris yapan bir delinin davranislari kadar iticiydi. Onlari aydinlatmak gibi belli bir hirsim yoktu, fakat kendilerine verdikleri o aptalca onemi yansitan yuzlerine bakip kendimi gulmemek icin tuttugum zamanlar oluyordu. O donemde pek de iyi olmadigimi söyleyebilirim. Son derece saygideğer insanlara aci aci siritarak, sokaklarda yalpalayarak dolasiyordum; halletmem gereken cesitli meseleler vardi. Davranisimin affedilmez oldugunu kabul ediyorum fakat o gunlerde atesim nadiren normal sevilerde seyrediyordu. Sevgili yengemin ‘gucumu toparlama’ cabalari tümüyle bosuna gorunuyordu. Toparlanmasi gereken fiziksel gucum degildi. Hayal gucumun yatistirilmaya ihtiyaci vardi.” Karanligin Yuregi



    “No, they did not bury me, though there is a period of time which I remember mistily, with a shuddering wonder, like a passage through some inconceivable world that had no hope in it and no desire. I found myself back in the sepulchral city resenting the sight of people hurrying through the streets to filch a little money from each other, to devour their infamous cookery, to gulp their unwholesome beer, to dream their insignificant and silly dreams. They trespassed upon my thoughts. They were intruders whose knowledge of life was to me an irritating pretence, because I felt so sure they could not possibly known the things I knew. Their bearing, which was simply the bearing of commonplace individuals going about their business in the assurance of perfect safety, was offensive to me like the outrageous flaunting of folly in the face of a danger it is unable to comprehend. I had no particular desire to enlighten them, but I had some difficulty in restraining myself from laughing in their faces so full of stupid importance. I dareway I was not very well at that time. I tottered about the streets—there were various affairs to settle—grinning bitterly at perfectly respectable persons. I admit my behaviour was inexcusable, but then my temperature was seldom normal in these days. My dear aunt’s endeavours to `nurse up my strength´ seemed altogether beside the mark. It was not my strength that wanted nursing, it was my imagination that wanted soothing.”




    “Kimse bana Arsimet'in kaldiracindan bahsetmesin. Arsimet, matematiksel imgeleme sahip dalgin bir adamdi. Matematige olan saygim sonsuz ama bu noktada formüllere ihtiyacim yok. Bana dogru vurguyu ve dogru sozcugu verin, sizin icin dunyayi yerinden oynatayim.”

  6. Emmy ve Golden Globe odulu sahibi Amerikali aktor Martin Sheen'in dogum gunu (3 Agustos 1940)






  7. Pulitzer Odullu Amerikali roman ve kisa oyku yazari Steven Millhauser’in dogum gunu (3 Agustos 1943)

    “Yazin, Cumartesi ogleden sonralarinda babam beni sinemaya gotururdu. Butun sabah calisma odasindan agzinda piposuyla kaslarini catarak ve mokasen terliklerini merdivenlerde takirdatarak gelmesini beklerdim. Sanki parlak koyu piposu, terlikleri, bizzat bekleyisim karanliklar diyarina cok uzun suren yolculugumun gerekli bir parcasi gibiydi.”



    “On Saturday afternoons in summer my father took me to the movies. All morning long I waited for him to come down from his study, frowning at the bowl of his pipe and slapping the stairs with his slipper-moccasins, as though the glossy dark bowl, the slippers, the waiting itself were a necessary part of my longdrawn out passage into the realm of dark.”


  8. Fransiz roman ve oyun yazari Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette’in olum yildonumu (3 Agustos 1954)

    “Orada, yesil kiremitli damin ustunde, hicbir isigin piriltisi oynasmiyor artik. Gun batiyor; az once hic kimildamayan iki bulut parcasi arasinda masmavi gorunen bir gokyuzu golu, tatli tatli soluyor, firuzeden limon yesiline geciyor. Koltuga dayali kollarim, bukuk dizlerim uyusmus. Verimsiz bir gun bitmek uzere, bense hala ne karar verebildim, ne de bir sey yazabildim, bir zamanlar icimi tutusturan -neredeyse 'Tanrısal' diyecegim- o atesin, dusunmeden boyun egdigim alevlerinden bir tekini bile kalbimde canlandiramadim.”



    “Aucun reflet ne danse plus, là-bas, sur le toit aux tuiles vertes. Le soleil a tourné ; un lac de ciel, tout à l'heure d'azur entre deux fuseaux de nuages immobiles, pâlit suavement, passe de la turquoise au citron vert. Mes bras accoudés, mes genoux plies se sont engourdis. L'infructueuse journée va finir, et je n'ai rien décidé, rien écrit, je n'ai pas arraché à mon cœur un de ces mouvements irrépressibles dont j'acceptais autrefois sans contrôle — et prête à la nommer ‘divine’ — l'orageuse impulsion. Pour aujourd'hui, écrire, brièvement, car l'heure presse, et mentir.”




    “Aptalca seyler yapacaksan da, onlari coskuyla yap!”




    “Mutlu ol. Bu, bilge olmanin tek yoludur.”

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