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středa 22. 7. 2009

poe1607/10/09

160 let od úmrtí Edgara Allana Poea - literární večer navazující na lednovou akci ke 200. výročí narození.

Opět jsmesi prošli nejslavnější poevské interprety a za deset minut deset shlédli/vyslechli v pražské premiéře úpravu havraní miniopery Pavla Drábka a Ondřeje Kyase The Parrot. Zazněly též premiérové překlady 3 básní E. A. Poea.


Lednová  připomínka 200. let od narození E. A. Poea:

http://www.skutecnost.cz/lang-cs/uskutecneno/47-2009/304-19109-poe.html

 

 

"O půlnoci sedě v křesle /

sedě v křesle, tváře skleslé /

nad knihou vědy prastaré /

chorou jsem svou skláněl líc..

...Marný vzdor!!!."

Oficiální stránky Poeova muzea v Baltimoru se seznamem všech akcí k poeovskému výročí:


Vincent Price recituje Havrana v televizi aneb poeovská scéna všech scén ve své originální verzi
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FID1CiB4bcU

"...The rays of the moon seemed to search the very bottom of the profound gulf; but still I could make out nothing distinctly, on account of a thick mist in which everything there was enveloped, and over which there hung a magnificent rainbow, like that narrow and tottering bridge which Mussulmen say is the only pathway between Time and Eternity. This mist, or spray, was no doubt occasioned by the clashing of the great walls of the funnel, as they all met together at the bottom but the yell that went up to the Heavens from out of that mist, I dare not attempt to describe..."

"...The storm was still abroad in all its wrath as I found myself crossing the old causeway. Suddenly there shot along the path a wild light, and I turned to see whence a gleam so unusual could have issued; for the vast house and its shadows were alone behind me. The radiance was that of the full, setting, and blood-red moon which now shone vividly through that once barely-discernible fissure of which I have before spoken as extending from the roof of the building, in a zig-zag direction, to the base. While I gazed, this fissure rapidly widened - there came a fierce breath of the whirlwind - the entire orb of the satellite burst at once upon my sight - my brain reeled as I saw the mighty walls rushing asunder - there was a long tumultuous shouting sound like the voice of a thousand waters - and the deep and dank tarn at my feet closed sullenly and silently over the fragments of the "House of Usher."

Telefonické pozdravy u příležitosti oslav 200. výročí narození Edgara Allana Poea: