Where the Sidewalk Ends
Shel Silverstein, 1974
Ποίηση Κόμικ και χιούμορΛογοτεχνική πεζογραφίαΣύγχρονη πεζογραφία
Ατμόσφαιρα: θαυμασμός και τρυφερότητα. Μιλά για την ηθική, τη μνήμη και την τέχνη.
Μια σελίδα από το βιβλίο
There is a place where the sidewalk endsAnd before the street begins,And there the grass grows soft and white,And there the sun burns crimson bright,And there the moon-bird rests from his flightTo cool in the peppermint wind.Let us leave this place where the smoke blows blackAnd the dark street winds and bends.Past the pits where the asphalt flowers growWe shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,And watch where the chalk-white arrows goTo the place where the sidewalk ends. Βιβλία με παρόμοια αίσθηση
The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared
Jonas Jonasson, 2009
Κοινά στοιχεία: μνήμη και ηθική.
Πού θα το βρεις
Από κάποιους από αυτούς τους συνδέσμους παίρνουμε μια μικρή προμήθεια, χωρίς επιπλέον κόστος για σένα. Έτσι το BookFeed μένει δωρεάν.
Ερωτήσεις αναγνωστών
- Πώς είναι το «Where the Sidewalk Ends»;
- Ατμόσφαιρα: θαυμασμός και τρυφερότητα. Μιλά για την ηθική, τη μνήμη και την τέχνη.
- Τι να διαβάσω μετά το «Where the Sidewalk Ends»;
- Αν σου άρεσε το «Where the Sidewalk Ends», δοκίμασε «The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared» (Jonas Jonasson), «Tuck Everlasting» (Natalie Babbitt) και «Poetry» (John Keats).
Μια γεύση από τη ροή
Death as sleep sounds restful until you try to think it through.
Imagine that, death was just like being asleep. Would he have time to think before it was all over? And would he have time to think that he had thought it? But wait, how much do you have to think before you have finished thinking?
The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared · Jonas Jonasson
What it means to be one turn of a wheel that never stops.
Everything’s a wheel, turning and turning, never stopping. The frogs is part of it, and the bugs, and the fish, and the wood thrush, too. And people. But never the same ones. Always coming in new, always growing and changing, and always moving on. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. That’s the way it is.
Tuck Everlasting · Natalie Babbitt
Ένα τραγούδι που κάνει τη μία νύχτα να μοιάζει τόσο παλιά όσο και το ανθρώπινο είδος.
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Poetry · John Keats
Διάβασε σελίδες από βιβλία σαν αυτό, μία τη φορά
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