The poet
who sees everything is accused of freedom of thought. |
(Translation by Susan Stewart)
The poet
who sees everything is accused of freedom of thought. |
Today, I went downtown Florence for my last minute Christmas shopping and I stopped for a while at laFeltrinelli bookstore in Via Cerretani. Among other things, I just took a look at the chess books. Not many survived the Internet revolution (about a dozen), and only a few of them (pictured above on the left) were placed on the second shelf of a wall bookcase mostly devoted to hobbies and leisures. Many things have changed throughout the years, and cookbooks are nowadays far more fashionable than chess treaties. But what a joy to see that General Ugo Pasquinelli’s everlasting handbook “ABC degli Scacchi” (The ABC of Chess Game), which first edition was in 1927, still stands over others as a monolith. Well, maybe his analysis were not always irreproachable, but whenever you read his words of admiration for the metaphysics of Morphy, Capablanca, Alekhine and Lasker, you really could feel and understand why Tarrasch once wrote that “Chess, like love, like music, has the power to make men happy”.
|
诚实是项非常昂贵的礼物,别期待从低价的人身上得到。
Chéngshí shì xiàng fēicháng ángguì de lǐwù, bié qídài cóng dī jià de rén shēnshang dédào.
Honesty is a very expensive gift. Don’t expect it from cheap people.
|
Snow White’s (unofficial) eighth dwarf
Freely inspired by Patti Smith’s “Dog Dream” Have you ever seen Arcovazzi’s hammer drill It got wings It can fly If you speak Of it to him It’s the only Time Arcovazzi Can’t look you in the eye Have you ever held Arcovazzi’s grass snake It rattles like a stir-fry pan It sleeps under the pillow It coils in his hand It rants and it strikes out When Arcovazzi cries out When Arcovazzi cries out Have you ever pressed To your face Arcovazzi’s bird Arcovazzi’s bird It lies on Arcovazzi’s hip Trembles inside him It drops upon the ground It rolls with Arcovazzi round It’s the only one Who comes When Arcovazzi comes Have you ever seen Arcovazzi’s hammer drill It got wings It can fly When it hits The nail on the bed He’s the only Thing allowed To sleep on Arcovazzi’s back |
Exigis, ut nostros donem tibi, Tucca, libellos.
Non faciam: nam vis vendere, non legere. You ask me to give you my little books, Tucca. I won’t do it. For you want to sell them, not read them. Ch’io ti doni i miei libri, o Tucca, domandi e pretendi. Non lo farò, giacché vuoi venderli, non leggerli. 杜卡,你向我索要的书,我绝不会给。 因为你只想卖,而不是读这些书。 |