Monday, January 17, 2022

The quarantine haiku

 


Cat’s going crazy
from being cooped up. So am 
I – in inner ways.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2022)

Note
My own personal quarantine is over, thank God. However, all the restrictions still apply – mask, green pass, uncertainty, rules that keep changing at the drop of a hat without much rhyme or reason. Will this ever be over?

Thursday, January 13, 2022

The Tender Bar

 

The Tender Bar (2021, directed by George Clooney, starring Ben Affleck, Daniel Ranieri, Tye Sheridan, Lily Rabe, Christopher Lloyd)

Whatever rode George Clooney - whom I generally respect both as a director and an actor - to direct and produce this seemingly endless bore of a movie?

Nothing about it feels original or genuine - it comes off as a refurbished parts store. When you enter, you know you've seen all the parts (people, situations, locations) somewhere before, many times, in a variety of places and constellations from Hollywood or TV.

A collection of stereotypes and a waste of acting talent (it's not like Affleck etc. don't perform well).

I did not last through to the end. Maybe I've seen too many movies. But go ahead and see for yourself.




Monday, January 10, 2022

The corona haiku

 


Life dictated by 

fever and saturation 

readings – sheer terror.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2022)

Note
Some reality from my battle with the virus. A bloody oxygen reading of less than 90%, so the doctors say, means you should be hospitalized.

Sunday, January 9, 2022

I’m doing nearly nothing


Ab Har Ho Bhola Nahin Bane - Pandit Mallikarjun Mansur

Fourth day of dreamily
listening to Mallikarjun Mansur -
always the same songs.

Nothing much is happening – 
I’m not listening attentively.
The music is flowing into me.

It feels like a conspicuous momentary
constellation – Mallikarjun Mansur singing
and me doing the equivalent of happy nothing.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2022)

Friday, January 7, 2022

Labordeta - Aragón


José Antonio Labordeta

Aragón

   
Polvo, niebla, viento y sol,
Donde hay agua una huerta.
Al Norte los Pirineos:
Esta tierra es Aragón.

Al Norte los Pirineos
Al Sur la tierra callada.
Pasa el Ebro por el centro
Con su soledad a la espalda.

Dicen que hay tierras al Este
Donde se trabaja y pagan.
Hacia el Oeste el Moncayo
Como un Dios que ya no ampara.

Desde tiempos a esta parte
Vamos camino de nada.
Vamos a ver cómo el Ebro
Con su soledad se marcha.

Y con él van en compaña
Las gentes de estas vaguadas,
De estos valles, de esta sierra,
De estas huertas arruinadas.

Polvo, niebla, viento y sol,
Donde hay agua una huerta.
Al Norte los Pirineos:
Esta tierra es Aragón.

**********

Aragon

   
Dust, fog, wind and sun,
Where there is water an orchard.
To the North the Pyrenees:
This land is Aragon.

To the North the Pyrenees
To the South the quiet land.
The Ebro flows through the center
With its solitude at its back.

They say there are lands to the East
Where there’s work and they pay.
To the West the Moncayo
Like a God that no longer protects.

Since time immemorial
We are on our way to nothing.
Watching the Ebro
Carry away its loneliness.

And with it go in company
The people of these meadows,
Of these valleys, these mountains,
These ruined orchards.

Dust, fog, wind and sun,
Where there is water an orchard.
To the North the Pyrenees:
This land is Aragon.

English translation by Johannes Beilharz.