tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5463134830425807259.post833634394646189297..comments2023-10-31T11:07:50.217+02:00Comments on Natan Garstea: Uşa în varăNatanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00390293771239313376noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5463134830425807259.post-60556116672739063672008-05-13T21:15:00.000+03:002008-05-13T21:15:00.000+03:00Iată eu încă nu am un început de carte pe care să ...Iată eu încă nu am un început de carte pe care să vreau să-l citez. De vre-o 3 ani am, însă, un alineat (care, totuşi, se află pe la începutul cărţii) din "Marile Speranţe" lui Charles Dikens care-mi pare genial, mai ales pentru melodicitatea cuvintelor.<BR/><BR/>În traducere îşi pierde farmecul..<BR/><BR/>"My first most vivid and broad impression of the identity of things, seems to me to have been gained on a memorable raw afternoon towards evening. At such a time I found out for certain, that this bleak place overgrown with nettles was the churchyard; and that Philip Pirrip, late of this parish, and also Georgiana wife of the above, were dead and buried; and that Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and Roger, infant children of the aforesaid, were also dead and buried; and that the dark flat wilderness beyond the churchyard, intersected with dykes and mounds and gates, with scattered cattle feeding on it, was the marshes; and that the low leaden line beyond, was the river; and that the distant savage lair from which the wind was rushing, was the sea; and that the small bundle of shivers growing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, was Pip."Nadia Melintihttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11732169413159974576noreply@blogger.com