1931 yilinde The Good Earth (Iyi Dunya) romaniyla Pulitzer Odulu'nu, 1938 yilinda The Mother (Ana) romaniyla Nobel Edebiyat Odulu'nu alan Amerikali roman yazari Pearl S. Buck'in olum yildonumu (6 Mart 1973)
"Saz damli kucuk koy evinin mutfaginda ana, kamis iskemlesini toprak ocagin basina cekmis, ocagin agzindan iceri ustalikla kuru sazlar atmaktaydi. Atesin uzerinde buyuk bir demir tencere vardi. Ates yeni tutusmus oldugu icin ana kah bir dal, kah bir avuc yaprak, kah biraz daha kuru saz atarak alevleri besliyordu. Bu sazlari gecen guz civar yamaclardan, kendisi toplayip kurutmustu.Mutfagin kosesinde, atese sokulabildigi kadar sokulmus, pek ihtiyar, pek ciliz ve burusuk bir kadin oturmaktaydi. Ustune gecirmis oldugu yamali mavi yeldirmenin altindan, icindeki parlak kirmizi pamuklu hirkanin uclari gorunuyordu.Gozleri hastalikli oldugu icin gozkapaklari birbirine yapismis, yarı kor gibiydi. Ama kirpiklerinin arasindan secebildikleri ona yetiyordu. Bu sirada ihtiyar kadin, ananin o guclu ve becerikli elleriyle, ocaktaki alevleri besleyip parlatisini seyretmekteydi.Cokuk, dissiz agzindan hafifce islik gibi cikan bir sesle, ‘Dikkat, et, atesi pek besleme’dedi. ‘Kala kala bir demet cirpimiz kaldi yoksa iki mi? Bahar geleli daha surada kac gun otlarin kesilecek boya gelmelerine daha cok var. Ben de iste gordugun gibiyim; bir daha disari cikip da ateslik cali cirpi toplayacak gucum kalmadi. Kimsenin isine yaramaz acuzenin biri olup ciktim iste. Gayri olsem daha iyi."
"In the kitchen of the small thatched farmhouse the mother sat on a low bamboo stool behind the earthen stove and fed grass deftly into the hole where a fire burned beneath the iron cauldron. The blaze was but just caught and she moved a twig here, a handful of leaves there, and thrust in a fresh bit of the dried grass she had cut from the hillsides last autumn.In the corner of the kitchen as near as she could creep to the fire sat a very old and weazened woman, wrapped in a thick padded coat of bright red cotton stuff, whose edges showed under a patched coat of blue she wore over it. She was half blind with a sore disease of the eyes, and this had well-nigh sealed her eyelids together. But through the small slits left open she could see a great deal still, and she watched the flare of the flames as they leaped and caught under the strong and skillful hands of the mother. Now she said, her words hissing softly through her sunken, toothless gums, --Be careful how you feed the fire -- there is only that one load --is it two? --and the spring is but newly come and we have long to go before the grass is long enough to cut and here I am as I am and I doubt I can ever go again and pick a bit of fuel -- a useless old crone now, who ought to die."
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