Il colore della luna, un altro libro che non riesco a riporre sullo scaffale, che continuo a tenere vicino a me, e lo riapro, e rileggo la dolcezza di certe frasi, la poesia che inebria il mio essere, perch茅 la dolcezza e poesia sono le note che accompagnano le pagine di questo libro: 鈥溾€ dalle nuvole cominciarono a piovere margherite gialle..鈥� E鈥� la storia di Fotis, un ragazzo forte, caparbio e con la testa piena di sogni.. sogni che lo portano ad inseguire una farfalla che ama volare libera di fiore in fiore, che non vuole legami, ma lui non si arrende e la rincorre affrontando mille ostacoli finch猫 un giorno si render脿 conto che questa farfalla non ama neppure le sue ali, ma solo i venti che la porteranno sempre pi霉 lontano鈥� 鈥淟a vita 猫 bella. Credimi. Vale la pena di essere vissuta, anche se a volte ti riempie di ferite鈥�. Ma ricordati sempre, che domani spunta un nuovo giorno. La vita non si ferma da nessuna parte鈥� Anche l鈥檜omo 猫 come gli alberi. Fiorisce, fa i frutti, perde le foglie, e ricomincia daccapo. Ora tu sei in mezzo a una tempesta e non capisci niente. Ma conserva nella mente quello che senti.鈥� E鈥� una storia di crescita, lontano dalla famiglia, fra la miseria e la sofferenza ma alla fine trover脿 il vero amore e la serenit脿.. E鈥� una bellissima storia, dolce e positiva, che riempie i nostri cuori di speranza e di sogni... In queste pagine c鈥櫭� la voce della 鈥渘atura鈥漜he ci accompagna: la stella, il ciliegio, la luna.. Alcune delle pennellate di poesia che contiene: "Di che colore 猫 il dolore?", domand貌 la stella al ciliegio inciampando nelle frange di una nuvola che passava frettolosa.. "Del colore che prende il mare quando il sole si abbandona tra le sue braccia. Un blu profondo, selvaggio". "Di che colore sono i sogni?" "I sogni? I sogni hanno il colore del tramonto". "Di che colore 猫 la gioia?" "Ha il colore del meriggio, stellina". "E la solitudine?" "La solitudine 猫 color viola". "Come sono belli i colori! Ti regaler貌 un arcobaleno per coprirti quando hai freddo". "E il bene? Di che colore 猫 il bene?" "Ha il colore degli occhi di Dio", rispose l'albero. "Di che colore 猫 l'amore?" "L'amore ha il colore della luna quanto 猫 piena". "Cos矛, eh? L'amore ha il colore della luna..." disse la stella. Guard貌 lontano nel vuoto. E pianse.
A bit too many religious references than are to my taste but a beautiful book so far. The writing is lyrical and filled with stunning imagery. Her style reminds me of Francesca Block's in the way the story flows along almost as simplisticly as a children's novel and how she creates beautiful imagery from metaphors that give pleasure to the mind. (There was a star flickering on the eyelash of the sky.) There are some great themes too. The characters are well written. They have flaws but you still care for them despite their mistakes.
My favourite quotes:
"On a clear night in March, the cherry tree felt afraid. It spread its branches towards the sky and sighed deeply. The star looked it straight in the eye and smiled. All the fairies and elves took hold of the night's skirt and started to dance, and all the north winds and the south winds took accordions and started to sing. All the north winds and the south winds, the west winds and the southwest winds with cheeks red from drinking, caught the night by the hair and kissed it on the mouth. The party lasted until daybreak when the Morning Star appeared and closed the streetdoor of the sky."
" "You know," said the tree one evening, "ever since I have been waiting for you to appear on my horizon, my nights have been filled with light!" The star smiled. And yellow daisies started to fall from the clouds."
"Much time went by and no one spoke. Only the star cast a yellow dust from time to time on the tobacco leaves. The cherry tree hummed a tune and picked up the child's dreams, scattered here and there, the ones he forgot every night in his haste to get away, because he was afraid of dogs.'
" "What is a Sunday?" asked the star out of curiosity "Mm! A may-fly is in Photis's hands. A handkercheif soaked with tears hidden in the empty basket of grandmother Despina. A paper boat that a boy had forgotten in the stream. A red carnation on the edge of wilderness." "How sad are Sundays!" said the star pensivley, and jumped and hid in the eyelid of the night. "
"Photis! A protector at twelve years old, with two handfuls of night in his eyes and an all-white jasmin in the prime of his youth."
"Life rolled along in the tobacco fields with a pair of threadbare stockings on her swollen feet and a honeysuckle in her breast. Life rolled along... with her forehead full of beads of sweat and a woodpigeon's feather in her mouth. Life rolled along... with the palms of her hands full of ripe cherries and the pockets of her apron stuffed with dreams. Many dreams. Red and fully fresh. Like cherries."
"He just sat under a wild cherry tree and hid his soul in its green leaves."
"He sat cross-legged under the tree and ate his dreams greedily. He ate them unwashed and uncleaned, and smeared his cheeks with their juices. He smeared his hands, his chin, his soul..."
"Well, there are some people who sit all alone at the seaside and wait; for days, months and years. They sit on a rock and wait for a boat to appear on the horizon. It is that boat which has its funnel decked with spring-time and its helm held by sea birds. They know that it's not going to come. Don't think so. Never think that those people are foolish. Don't worry. They know quite well where the boats go, why they go and who sits at their helms. But they wait. They're all alone; there, on the sea-shore. Their foreheads are like two bowls where the wild birds come to drink water.And they keep on waiting..."
"Now your soul is filled with gun powder. It would be a pity if you didn't set it alight sometimes."
"Nina worked in the field every day. She was a petite woman, with a face like a loaf of white bread and two violet eyes. Nina had the mud of the tobacco field on her skirts and a dry wild flower in her soul."
"There was a big, grey-greenish moon and a blue, sleepy mountain. There was also that yellow-blackish caterpillar gnawing away at the leaves of a plum tree. It was to blame because it would not let the star sleep. "They call him 'Cyclops'! Do you hear them? They call him 'Cyclops', and he's crying." A big glass moon and a yellowish black, weeping mountain."
"That year, August had decorated its head with very red grapes; and flocks of sea birds sat on it shoulders."
" "Love me? I'm like a bee. I want to wander about gardens. Why do you want me to tie up my wings?" "I don't mean to tie up your wings, but I want you to fly only for me." "I don't like people who imprison birds so that they will sing only for them. Let me be free, and love me. Then I may love you, too. That's the way I am. I want you to understand me," she said. Then she tangled her fingers in his curly hair and embroidered his face with a thousand kisses." (61-64)
"There were also two little night butterflies which clung to the light of the door. And they were getting burned. There were also those dreams of Photis which clung to Marousso's heart. And they were getting burned."
Update: I am done and this book was a big disappointment.
O kadar g眉zel, hi莽 bilinmeyen, gizli hazine niteli臒inde bir kitap. Basit olan谋n ve do臒an谋n g眉zelli臒ine dair 艧iir gibi bir metin. Panait Istrati tarz谋 bir yazar. 鈥楤u 艧ehirde ya艧ayam谋yorum art谋k. G枚ky眉z眉nde y谋ld谋zlar谋n par谋lday谋艧lar谋n谋 g枚rmek istiyorum. Mevsimleri g枚zlerimle ay谋rt etmek, fark etmek istiyorum. Her sabah penceremizden da臒lar谋 g枚rmek istiyorum. Ruhumu da臒lar谋n tepelerinden ak谋p giden bulutlara b谋rakmak istiyorum. Bu 艧ehirde rahat de臒ilim art谋k. 陌莽imi kuruttu. D眉kk芒ndaki hissemi sat谋p k枚ye gidece臒iz. B谋r zamanlar anam谋n ve ninemin satt谋臒谋 tarlalar谋 sat谋n alaca臒谋z. T眉t眉nle u臒ra艧mayaca臒谋m. Y谋llarca kan谋m谋z谋 emdi, kuruttu. Kiraz a臒a莽lar谋 dikece臒im. D眉艧眉nsene Stella, ilkbaharda hepsi filizlenmi艧 olacaklar. 鈥�
Orbit谩lis katyvasz ez a k枚nyv. Id艖nk茅t annyi k枚lt艖i k茅ppel 茅l a szerz艖, ami teljesen megfojtja a sz枚veget, azt谩n 谩tv谩lt alp谩ri st铆lusba. Egy v茅gtelen眉l didaktikus tanmese az eg茅sz, teljesen 茅letidegen p谩rbesz茅dekkel.