Ivan Blatný

Poet, son of the writer Lev Blatný (1894-1930). Born in Brno, he spent the first part of his life here – before escaping into exile in 1948. He lived in a house...

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František Halas

Poet, translator and publicist, Brno born, spent his childhood and youth here. He learned the bookseller’s trade from A. Píša and for a brief period (1919–1921)...

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Oldřich Mikulášek

Poet and publicist. Lived in Brno from 1937 until his death, latterly at Mášova street. He is linked to several cultural institutions (the Brno studios of Czechoslovak...

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Jaroslav Seifert

Poet, publicist, memoirist. The first – and so far the only Czech to receive the Nobel prize for Literature. In addition to the lasting popularity he won through...

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Jan Skácel

Poet, writer, editor and translator. Spent most of his life in Brno and is closely linked to a number of Brno cultural institutions (the magazine Host do domu...

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Vít Slíva

Poet and schoolteacher. His connection to Brno dates back to his university days. Apart from one interlude, he has been living to this day at Poděbradova street....

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Brno

Places (in alphabetical order)

Věra Rosí

1976

Civil name Veronika Schelleová. Poet and translator. Brno-born, associated with the so-called ‘královopolský’ circle around the poet Vít Slíva. Studied at the Brno Philosophical Faculty (Czech and German Studies). Her debut collection was Holý bílý kámen (Bare white stone /1999/), followed by another collection.

The author and the places of his/her poems

Björnsonův sad (Björnson grove park)


The poem and the place



* * * (Björnson grove park)

I look at it all coldly, from afar:
how full the grove is, green with apples all,
of yellow leaves, too late to catch the fall,
and thoughts, that went looking for someone there…

Full of children and mutual mirthful bruises,
children, those rubies on the blackbird rings,
and thoughts that are no longer begging things …
The summer’s gone, the autumn, all the poses.

(How same we are, so same-some far apart!)
The park so filled with sun, past clouds it darts,
before it cuts its veins …

Poster-plastered, where rain can read, when it comes,
that we lose only what we never gained.
A park of hardened crumbs.


                                                translated by Václav Pinkava

 


Rosí, Věra: Dlouhé nůžky noci (The long scissors of the night), Brno: Weles – Masarykova univerzita 2012, p. 43.



Contacts



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