#The Rose of Isfahan

[falseandrealultravival]

"The Rose of Isfahan" “Le rose de Isfahan” and Isfahan(Essay)

O Leilah! depuis que de leur vol leger

Tous les baisers ont fui de ta levre si douce

Il n'est plus de parfum dans le pale orange,

Ni de celeste aromé aux roses dans leur mousse.

Oh Leila! Ever since the flowers fluttered lightly

every kiss escaped from your sweet lips

Orange roses lose their fragrance,

The heavenly scent of moss-covered roses (gone)

おーレイラ！花が軽々と飛び散って以来

すべてのキスがあなたの甘い唇から逃げました

オレンジ色のバラには香気がなくなり、

苔に包まれたバラの天上の香りも（なくなり。）

The above is a series of excerpts from Gabriel Fauré's songs, and it is a work based on the poem of Le Comte de Lisle.

Isfahan, which is sung in this song, is an oasis city in the dry Iranian plateau in the western part, built in the 17th century and prospered as a base of the Silk Road. The Zayandeh River runs through the center of the city, waterways criss-cross the city, plants and flowers grow everywhere, and trade flourishes. From this bustle, the phrase "Isfahan is half the world" was born. As in Lisle's poem, the roses would have competed for the same.

The inhabitants of Isfahan were originally nomads, but settled in this city. However, in recent years, the economic recession has made it difficult for men to find work, and there are many cases in which wives and children are responsible for the household expenses. My wife weaves the specialty carpets and sells them for cash, but it can take up to 10 years for her to weave one carpet. It is said that there is also a thing.

Also, many of the children polish their shoes, and one of them has been working with a tile craftsman who is in charge of replacing the tiles of a war-damaged mosque. I wanted to become one, but my father told me something like a pimp, saying, ``It will take years to master the job, and it will reduce the amount of cash I can put into it, so I will not allow it.''

There is also an actual example of two sons sent to study in the United States who have not returned to Isfahan. and settled in America. Ironically, even Isfahan, which used to be "half of the world," seems to be unable to win against the wave of globalization.

[clementineskesh]

Transcript

Stargrave Elcessor is sitting in her office just repeatedly pressing the button, just over and over again. Click, click, click, click, click. She's watching her feeds, hoping that it will explode, hoping that she will die, that everyone will die, because to her, death is less scary than the threat of fundamental real change.

[Nothing is Stationary starts playing]

But nothing happens when she hits the button. Nothing will ever happen when she hits the button ever again, when anyone hits this button ever again. And to be clear, by taking them offline, it's not just that you've prevented them from exploding. It's that, you know, exploding is their secondary function already. It used to be that these things were built to explode. But for the Divine Principality, stellar combustors were built to prevent explosions, metaphorical and mundane. They are a threat meant to pause possibility, to halt history itself.

And that is what deactivating the stellar combustors has done. This is what Millennium Break has done. It's opened up history. It's created possibility for people across the galaxy. Boots are still on necks, but the biggest hammer, the sharpest knife, the strongest disincentive against pushing back is gone.

And they might do it quietly. But the people on Tartarus 5 celebrate. On Lonn and to Helaine Delta in Thulsa and Xenacip. They celebrate on Bhopal Kha and Maine and Bishamonten, on Carjal and Isfahan and all the rest. On research stations and refineries and on standard spread worlds: not everyone, not every one, but some people touch hands and light candles and some launch fireworks and hide before anyone asks any questions

And some people make plans. On Altar and Brighton and Crown and Gift-3, they make plans. On Moonlock and Seneschal and Skein, on Thyrsis, and on Volition, and on the Brink, and all throughout the Twilight Mirage, they make plans. And in Sinder Karst and in Joyous Guard, in Carhaix, on the Isle of the Broken Key, in City City, on New Oath, in the Crown of Glass, in Baseline; all across Palisade, the plans are already in motion.

Jade Kill: in motion. Violet Cove and Rose River, Carmine Bight and Gray Pond: in motion. The Blue Channel: they're moving on them now, because against all odds tomorrow is coming and it brings more work. And for the first time in weeks, the sun will feel good on their skin as they do it.

[geralts-yenn]

🛁 - A nice, relaxing bath

Leon looks tense...

Napoleon Solo x OFC Amina Ahmadi

warnings: fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p-i-v sex (it's the 60s, guys, we're smarter now, right?)

word count: 1,7k

A/N: Nina, thank you for this ask. It made me really nervous at first because Napoleon and me, we haven't been talking before. But damn, that was a pleasure to write. I had so much fun. Hope you like what I made out of it.

Anahita is the Persian goddess of water, fertility and healing

summary: After a hard job in Isfahan, Napoleon tries to lose some tension in the hamam of his client, the Shah

Moodboard

dividers by @firefly-graphics

Napoleon carefully brushed his shirt over his bruised shoulder. The last 24 hours were filled with a little too much action for his taste. He preferred jobs that required his skills of persuasion and trickery. But when it needed to be done, he wasn’t shy of using his muscles like he did last night, even if it meant that he couldn’t enjoy his last day in Isfahan to the extent he had planned. In no way was he capable of taking care of Amina in the way he had intended to.

A deep groan escaped his mouth through gritted teeth as he started to undo his pants. His ribs burnt in his chest with every of his movements.

But as his suit pants dropped to the floor, the most difficult part was done. He slipped on the silk bath robe that was given to him at the reception and made his way to the entrance of the antique bath house. Leon had gladly accepted the invitation of the Shah to his private bath. He knew to appreciate the luxuries that his job brought with it. 

As the minutes passed by in the heat of the steam bath, Napoleon felt how his muscles began to relax, the tension evaporating from his body with every drop of sweat that ran down his chest.

The bright sound of a bell signaled him to move to the heated marble table. Napoleon carefully dropped on the warm stone and lay on his stomach, not fighting the moan, as he felt the pain running through his chest.

A pair of warm hands settled on his shoulders. “Mr. Solo, I am delighted to hear such sounds coming from your lips, but I didn’t expect to hear them before I even lay my hands on you.” The voice was soft and seductive. 

Napoleon jerked in surprise, only realizing by then that he shouldn’t move so briskly. His head turned, but he couldn’t see more than some caramel toned hips leaning against his side.

“Amina?” he asked, although he already knew it was her sweet voice. The hands on his back slowly ran up and down his spine with just the right amount of pressure.

“Sh, Leon, we better not be talking too much. This is not exactly a situation we both want to be found in. Just lay down and let me take care of you.” 

Napoleon wasn’t used to being in the position of accepting care instead of giving. He was used to being in charge. But after all what happened in the last few days, it felt incredibly good to give up on taking responsibilities for once. And so, he just lay there and savored the touch of his Persian rose.

Soon, he felt not only her soft hands on him, there were her plush lips pressing against his neck, and the mounds of her breasts ever so slowly brushed over his back as she reached for his arms, her pebbled buds teasing him. Now, this was enough for Leon to take. He was happy to risk being found in this very inappropriate situation when it meant being able to feel this gorgeous woman.

Carefully resting his weight on his elbow, he turned and wrapped his other arm in a smooth motion around Amina’s waist, pulling her close to his chest. The scent of jasmine filled his nose.

He pressed his lips on hers, and she opened them for him, letting him explore her mouth and taste her. After a teasing bite on her lower lip, he pulled away, only far enough to be able to speak. 

“Tell me, ātashé del-am*, do you want me to take you here on this stone or where do you want me to take you?” His hot breath grazed over her humid jaw as he mouthed his words. Amina broke away from his embrace with a smile playing around her lips.

“We might enjoy the warmth of the thermal spring, my dear,” she hummed and held out her hand for him to take.

As he wasn’t able to move fast, Leon took advantage of his slow way of moving by admiring her divine body from head to toe. He walked behind her, and watching her derrière swaying from side to side as she guided him to the steaming pool, he felt his cock twitching in anticipation. 

*) Farsi for “fire of my heart”, often used to call a lover 

Amina let Napoleon take the lead as he stepped down into the hot water. He sat down on the tiled bench and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as the warmth settled around his body. Amina followed him and straddled his thick thighs. She devoured his lips once more, feeling how Napoleon got more demanding, more impatient with every second that they spent kissing.

His hands dropped below the surface, one settling on her firm breast, rolling her nipple between his digits, the other one heading deeper, finding its way between her legs. His fingers, skilled to move perfectly, feeling every variance, soon had Amina squirming over him. He alternated between teasing her swollen clit and working her open with two of his fingers, curling inside her to find her sweetest spot. Finally, he felt her tightening around his fingers as she came. Her breath was shaky, and she bit on her lip to suppress the treacherous moans.

When she was coming back from her high, she took him in her small hands and stroked him. Napoleon gasped as he finally felt the friction he craved so much. Amina raised her hips and positioned him. And then she sank down slowly on him until he was sheathed completely between her velvet walls.

She started moving in a slow rhythm, rolling her hips up and down on him. Napoleon reveled in the sight in front of him. Amina’s bosom sank into the water just to rise out of it again, droplets running down her soft, dark skin. He couldn’t keep his mouth any longer from her. His lips were roaming over her neck, her shoulders, her collarbones, just every inch of skin that he was able to reach.

Feeling him so deep inside her, Amina lost all her self-control. Her pace got faster, harder. As she felt the tension building in her core, ready to bring her over the edge any moment, she desperately grabbed his shoulder.

The grunt that came deep from Leon’s chest was not one of the lewd sounds he had been voicing until now, it was a sound of discomfort and pain. Amina immediately recoiled, her eyes shooting up to Napoleon’s face. But the pained expression was already gone. Leon smiled at her apologetically.

“Don’t hold back, dear. I can take it.” Without waiting for an answer, his hands were on Amina’s hips, and he pulled her close to him. After taking a deep breath, he stood up, wrapping her legs around his waist and placed the surprised woman on the edge of the pool. This time he bit back the groan that wanted to escape his lips as his ribs burnt in his chest. 

His hands pushed at her knees to make her open her legs for him. Napoleon knelt on the bench and his hands and lips slowly proceeded their ascent along her calves, her knees and her inner thighs. 

Amina quivered in anticipation as his head disappeared between her legs. But Leon didn’t grant her wish to feel his mouth on her just yet. Instead, he just stopped and stared in wonder. 

“Just look how beautiful you are, ātashé del-am. Opening up for me, sharing your most precious part with me. Thank you, my dear.” And then he started to devour her, diving into her core like a starving man. His tongue lapped through her folds and teased her pearl. 

When at first Amina yearned for his fingers to join, she soon lost every ability to think at all, just feeling how Napoleon brought her to her next climax just with his mouth. 

Panting heavily, she felt how Leon left his place between her thighs after a few more lazy licks over her drenched pussy. He stepped out of the pool and knelt down between her still spread legs. 

“I want you on your knees, my love.” Leon sounded pained, but determined. And Amina couldn’t think of anything else she wanted more than to be taken by him right here and now on the stone floor. She went on all fours, raising her buttocks invitingly for him. 

Leon took the invitation and was behind her in an instant. 

His hands guided her to lift her bottom even further while arching her back down onto the floor. He let his fingers run over her bare cheeks, squeezing her flesh tight. Amina bit on her lower lip, aching for him to take her. 

“Mm, this is a glorious sight!” Leon cooed. Amina turned her head to look back at him, to see his eyes were dark and full of desire. Napoleon slowly let his fingers run through her folds, playing with her arousal while he was stroking himself. 

Finally, she felt the tip of his cock between her folds again. Amina cried out as he buried himself deep inside of her. Every bit of caution they both had not to get caught was gone by now. They couldn’t keep quiet any longer. 

Napoleon grabbed Amina’s hip, sinking his blunt nails into her skin. His thrusts were hard and fast, finally searching his own release 

He moaned with every thrust now and Amina reacted to his sounds with pure lust. She moved her hips in the same rhythm as him, trying to feel him as deep as possible. 

Amina felt another orgasm build up and begged Leon to take her harder. He obeyed, giving all he had to give, not even noticing his broken ribs any longer.

When her walls clenched around his cock, Leon lost his rhythm and rutted into her desperately. Finally, his body tensed, he shuddered and then Amina felt him spilling his seed into her. After another few slow thrusts he collapsed next to her. His chest was heaving while he was trying to catch his breath.

Amina pressed a small kiss on his shoulder. “Mr. Solo, I hope you are satisfied with our service?” she whispered with a smile on her lips.

Napoleon chuckled softly. “I am very pleased and would be delighted if I could take advantage of your endeavors at my suite tonight once more, Miss Ahmadi.

taglist:

@raccoon-eyed-rebel @deandoesthingstome @mayloma @fvckinghenrycavill @ylva-syverson @ellethespaceunicorn @kebabgirl67 @dopegardensaladhuman @kingliam2019 @liviss @identity2212 @enchantedbytomandhenry @valacircareads @summersong69 @poledancingdinos @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @mrsevans90 @henryownsme @myaimlessuniverse @itsrubberbisquit @uunotheangel @hannah9921 @sycochick @mary-ann84 @littlefreya

[heliological]

I wanted to listen to these together

audio from Palisade 01, 18, and 25, transcript under the cut

Austin [as Baldwin Home]: We have held our breath, we have closed our eyes, we have tied ourselves down with rope and wire. We have flown in retrograde, we have swum against the tide, we've tried every last trick to stop the clock's stride. But nothing is stationary. No, nothing is stationary. I said, nothing is stationary. They're moving on us now.

Austin [as Baldwin Home]: It’s your boy, Baldwin Home, a.k.a. Black Screen, Concrete Front, you already know what it is. Hitting you with another missive from the front lines, giving you an update on their missiles and known crimes, so you can move under their noses and know where they sharpen their knives, so you can recognize it by sound and get your own honed too, 'cause they need to be. What did I say? Play it back! Play it back! They’re— they’re— they’re moving on us now.

Austin: And they might do it quietly. But the people on Tartarus 5 celebrate. On Lonn and Helaine Delta and Thulsa and Xenacip, they celebrate. On Bhopal Kha and Maine and Bishamonten, on Carjal and Isfahan and all the rest. On research stations and refineries and on standard spread worlds: not everyone, not every one, but some people touch hands and light candles and some launch fireworks and hide before anyone asks any questions.

And some people make plans. On Altar and Brighton and Crown and Gift-3, they make plans. On Moonlock and Seneschal and Skein, on Thyrsis, and on Volition, and on the Brink, and all throughout the Twilight Mirage, they make plans. And in Sinder Karst, and in Joyous Guard, in Carhaix, on the Isle of the Broken Key, in City City, on New Oath, in the Crown of Glass, in Baseline: all across Palisade, the plans are already in motion.

Jade Kill: in motion. Violet Cove and Rose River, Carmine Bight and Gray Pond: in motion. The Blue Channel: they’re moving on them now, because against all odds tomorrow is coming and it brings more work. And for the first time in weeks, the sun will feel good on their skin as they do it.

[eyeoftheheart]

A WORD TO THE HEART

That which God said to the rose, and caused it to laugh in full-blown beauty, He said to my heart, and made it a hundred times more beautiful.

Mathnawi III, 4129 (translated by Kabir Helminski and Camille Helminski)

The ceiling of the Sheikh-Lotf-Allah mosque in Isfahan, Iran.

[xnewsinfo]

Iran's Supreme Court docket has overturned the demise sentence of a authorities critic and fashionable hip-hop artist, Toomaj Salehi, who rose to fame for his lyrics concerning the 2022 demise in police custody of Mahsa Amini, his court docket stated on Saturday. lawyer Amir Raisian.In a submit on He added that one other courtroom will now evaluate the case.The demise sentence imposed on Salehi in April by a Revolutionary Court docket within the central metropolis of Isfahan created confusion, as neither Iran's state information company IRNA nor the judiciary formally confirmed it. These courts in Iran typically contain closed-door hearings with proof introduced by a clerk and grant restricted rights to defendants.The information rapidly drew worldwide criticism from US and UN specialists, who condemned it as an indication of Tehran's continued crackdown on all dissent after years of mass protests.Salehi was launched from jail final November after spending a 12 months there on costs his supporters stated have been primarily based on the hip-hop artist's music and his involvement in protests that erupted in Iran over the demise of Mahsa Amini. 22 years previous. Amini died within the custody of the nation's ethical police after being detained for carrying her hijab too dishevelled.Salehi rapped about Amini in a video and stated: "Somebody's crime was dancing with their hair blowing within the wind." In one other verse, he predicts the autumn of the Iranian theocracy.Shortly after his launch final 12 months, Salehi was despatched again to jail after saying in a video message that he was tortured after his arrest in October 2022. State media on the time revealed a video exhibiting him along with his eyes blindfolded and apologizing for his phrases, a press release that was more likely to have been made below duress. Later, in 2023, a court docket sentenced Salehi to greater than six years in jail.U.N. investigators say Iran was answerable for Amini's demise and violently suppressed largely peaceable protests in a months-long safety crackdown that killed greater than 500 folks and detained greater than 22,000.

[syedrezaabbas]

Damask rose festival in Yazd

The second cultural damask rose festival was hold in Mehriz, a city in Yazd Province, Iran.

[ahamiltongarden]

MY FAVOURITE IRIS HAS BLOOMED AT LAST IN THE HERB GARDEN

My late neighbour Irene gave me this iris so I treasure it all the more. It is such a beautiful thing - and so very fleeting. Its rich colours and textures of lush velvet and thin crinkled silk remind me of Vita Sackville West’s famous quote about old roses:

‘...swept me quite unexpectedly back to those dusky mysterious hours spent in an Oriental warehouse where the rugs and carpets of Isfahan and Bokhara and Samarkind were unrolled in their dim but sumptuous colouring and richness of texture for our slow delight. Rich they were, rich as a fig broken open, soft as a ripened peach, flecked as an apricot, coral as a pomegranate, bloomy as a bunch of grapes...’

Postscript: I have found out that this iris is called ‘Melchior’ and that Vita grew this at Sissinghurst!

[jump4joe]

Isfahan in full bloom #sofragrant #rose #oldgardenroses #antiqueroses #isfahan #damaskroses #rosegardens #pictures #rosesofinstagram #prettypicture #aroma #perfume (at Salinas, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/BxbhZfRhexO/?igshid=icursv2qpjxc

[fire-eyedlioness]

My Characters // 1

Name: Tamir [Tamir-sama]

Surname: -

Nationality: The Great Seljuk Emperor

Age: 15

(when she took throne: 18)

(After others 19-24)

Status: Alive

Hair: Reddish-brown

Eye: Rose pink

Height: 1.70

Skills:

Politic 📜

Sword 🗡

Shoot arrows 🏹

Ride a horse 🐎

More...

Enemies:

Hasan Sabbah (The Assasins’s leader)

Barlas (Her big brother) [after]

Commander Lucas (Kuvel Castle’s Byzantine leader)

...Maybe they may increasing...

Story:

She was born in Isfahan Palace. Her father (sultan) didn’t segregation her during her growing period.

She has a brother who older then herself. But he’s not responsible as Tamir. Unlike him, Tamir always worked a lot in all areas. She was succesful in all areas. She’s ambitious and harsh. So she’s properly woman knight.

One day, her father was dead queerly. After her brother Barlas disappeared. Before that, she heard Ömer Hayyam’s home burned by a suspicious. She doubted from Hasan Sabbah and Barlas. She thought they aligned themself with each others.

From now on, she took the throne and she become Seljuk Sultan. Rule the country means face enemies and must evince what happens/will happen...

Briefly it’s story’s summary. I thought draw webtoon story

[parnoun]

تندیس شاخه گل رز نقره. . شاخه گل رز تمام نقره با عیار 840 ابعاد کامل تندیس: 12 سانتیمتر طول در 10 سانتیمتر عرض و ارتفاع 24 سانتیمتری ارتفاع شاخه گل رز با گلدان: 14سانتیمتر عیار شاخه گل نقره: 840 وزن نقره شاخه گل : 12.35 گرم _ خرید از طریق ارسال پیام در تلگرام و واتساپ شماره 09363197760 و همچنین دایرکت و فروشگاه اینترنتی پرنون به نشانی parnoun.com _ #پرنون #فروشگاه_اینترنتی_پرنون #تندیس_گل #نقره۸۴۰ #تندیس_نقره #تندیس #کشتی #گل_نقره #نقره_جات #صنایع_دستی_اصفهان #صنایع_دستی #هنر_ایرانی #نقره #گل_رز #هدیه_تولد #تندیس_خاص #هدیه_خاص #فروشگاه_آنلاین_صنایع_دستی #فروش_آنلاین_صنایع_دستی #صنایعدستی #صنایع_دستی_ایران #خرید_آنلاین_صنایع_دستی #صنایع_دستی_ایران #luxuryhomedecor #silver #rose #persian_art #handicrafts (at Isfahan Province) https://www.instagram.com/p/CDbXXSRAoIx/?igshid=1w8mmuc86n8c2

[cincinnatusvirtue]

Nader Shah: Sword of Persia

Nader Shah Afshar (1688-1747) was the Shah (King) of Persia officially from 1736 until his assassination in 1747.  Though he de-facto became Iran’s most powerful figure by 1729 and especially after 1732 he was regent of then the Shah, ruler in all but name.  Nader Shah is sometimes known as by monikers as the “Sword of Persia” or the “Second Alexander the Great” or “Napoleon of Persia”.  These names don’t really do him entirely justice, especially the latter considering he lived prior to Napoleon.  Though the comparison as a successful conqueror and tactician in battle is true enough.  Nader’s rise from abject poverty to the heights of dominating the Middle East and Western and Central Asia is nothing short of extraordinary and in many cases is the last in the long line of famous conquerors in the East of a Turco-Mongol tradition that included his true idols Genghis Khan and Timur.

Nader was born presumably in 1688 according to most sources in the area of Dargaz of the Khorasan Province of modern Iran located in the northeastern extremity of the country.  He was part of the ethnically Turkic Afshar tribe, that was semi-nomadic and had years before settled in parts of Northern Iran and Azerbaijan.  The Afshar were Turkic in their blood but culturally a synthesis of Persian (Iranian) and Turkic tradition, their religion was a brand of Shia Islam.  His father was a herdsman and coatmaker and they maintained a nomadic lifestyle, his father died at 13 and without income his family was reduced to greater poverty than his earlier upbringing.  He earned money by gathering sticks in the Iranian Plateau for firewood which he would sell at market.  In 1704 Uzbek Turkic raiders captured his family including him and his mother and were put into slavery where his mother died.  According to some sources he escaped by deception but by 1708 he had returned to the Khorasan Province.

What he had grown up in and returned to was an increasingly declining Persian Empire ruled by the famed Safavid Dynasty that had ruled Persia and much the Middle East since 1502 but at this time it was under the rule of Sultan Husayn from (1694-1722).  He was facing rebellion in the east from Afghan Pashtuns under Mahmud Hotek, who rose to become Emir of Afghanistan and briefly in 1722 overthrew Husayn as Shah of Persia by besieging the capital Isfahan, ruling until 1725.  Hotek was not completely recognized as Shah and Tahmasp (son of Sultan Husayn) fought against this.  Meanwhile, Persian’s arch rivals to the west and north the Ottoman and Russian Empires respectively used this chaos to  grab Persian territory in the Caucasus and elsewhere.  Hotek was killed and replaced by his cousin and who actually fought back against the Ottomans and Russians who tried to restore Tahmasp.

Nader in these chaotic years began a steady rise to personal power.  According to some sources, Nader started as a royal mail carrier for the Safavid Empire, however he is said to have killed a fellow royal mail carrier and taken over his route himself, then killed a nobleman who employed him and married the nobleman’s daughter.  He then became a bandit on the loose in his native Khorasan Province and gradually added members of his tribe into a sort of local army, becoming a powerful warlord in the process.  He was contacted by the Safavid under Tahmasp who wished to employ him as a sort of mercenary against the Hotek Dynasty.  1729 saw Nader defeat the Afghans, first in Afghanistan and then in the Battle of Damghan he beat the Afghans once more helping pave the way for Tahmasp to rise to Shah of Persia as Tamasp II.  As thanks for his help, Nader was made royal governor of Eastern Iran, namely Khorasan and he was married to Tahmasp’s sister, Razia.

1730 saw Nader now undertaking campaigns on behalf of the Safavids to retake Mesopotamia (Iraq) and the southern Caucasus regions previously ceded to the Turkish Ottomans who were Sunni Muslims.  His campaigns became the stuff of legend as he had reformed the Persian Army as one no longer based solely on cavalry now in the age of gunpowder, instead he sought a combined arms strategy, mixing cavalry with artillery, namely with the use of the camel mounted artillery on swivel guns known as zamburaks, this mobile form of artillery was inventive on the battlefield and  combined with aggressive infantry tactics as well.  Nader was a proponent of aggressive and bold moves involving great mobility and preferred flanking maneuvers to offset his enemies.  Time and again the Ottomans fell in battle to aggressive tactics.  Nader was successful in gaining territory back from the Ottomans.  However, Shah Tahmasp now jealous of Nader’s success launched his campaign to take Armenia from the Turks, it failed and undid much of Nader’s earlier success.

In 1732, Nader used the ineptness of Tahmasp’s campaign to provide fodder for his being deposed from the throne, in his place Tahmasp’s infant son, Abbas III was named Shah with Nader as his regent, becoming in effect ruler of Persia.  He resumed a campaign in 1733 against the Ottomans in Iraq which initially did not go well for Nader.  Nader however quickly rebuilt his army and fought the Ottomans at Kirkuk, defeating them with a pincer movement.  However, rebellion in Iran and Afghanistan compelled him back to Persia.  He put these down and by 1735 was back onto invading Ottoman territory winning the major Battle of Yeghevard, ending the war with the Ottomans and leading to Persia regaining its western territories once more. 

1736 saw the pretense of regency thrown off as Nader deposed the young Abbas by throwing a qoroltai, a traditional meeting of the leading nobles in the countryside as part of a great hunting party where they signed a document, granting their support to Nader’s suggestion to be named Shah.  This was done in a tradition imitating Genghis Khan and Timur in centuries past.  Now Nader was officially Nader Shah and founder of his own Afsharid Dynasty.  As a ruler, Nader implemented many domestic changes.  Including a new silver coinage system, called Naderi after himself which was paired with the Indian rupees.  Nader also paid his army in coins and currency rather than the previous tradition of grants of land and spoils of war.  He also reformed the army into a national identity, rather than a mix of provincial and tribal loyalties that had divided and decentralized Persia in the past.  He spoke Persian and Turkic.  The former being the official language of the nation and its government and the latter for his military administration.  Nader in religious policy was more pragmatic than a true believer, like Napoleon who followed him, he saw religion as a tool to wield for political purposes.  His level of true belief is a matter of debate and it appears he may not in fact have been personally that religious if at all.  Officially, Persia followed Shia Islam but his army was a mix of Shia and Sunnis and Christian vassals from Georgia and Armenia.  He eventually settled on a blend of Shia Islam  called Ja’fari that was less offensive to Sunnis, believing previous Safavid Shia policy had alienated the Ottoman Sunnis.

1739 saw his most famous campaign, the invasion of India.  India at that time was ruled by a mix of local kingdoms and European colonies but in the North it was still nominally under the rich but declining Islamic Mughal Empire which was ruled by a 16th century dynasty descended from his hero, Timur of Turco-Mongol extraction.  His impetus for invasion was the Mughals hiding Afghan rebels.  Nader lead his Persian Army, supported by Georgian Christian vassals into Afghanistan, Pakistan and India with a goal to take over the Mughal capital at Delhi.  The Mughal Emperor, Muhammad Shah lead an army of 300,000 troops north of Dehli to meet the Persian invasion which number 55,000.  Outnumbered six to one it looked as Nader would be overwhelmed but on February 24, 1739 the greatest battle of his career would take place, the Battle of Karnal.  What Nader lacked in numbers he made up for in experience, discipline, mobility and tactical prowess.  The Mughals were numerous but their army, including war elephants was more ornate than effective and was cumbersome due to their large numbers and baggage trains.  The Mughals advanced in divided columns while the Pesians split their forces too.  Nader ordered his camel mobile artillery, the zamburaks to fire along with his artillery and infantry which devastate the advancing Mughals, it worked.  The sheer volume of artillery and infantry fire mowed down the Indian army and then combined with ambushes put them into confusion and disarray.  The Mughals suffered heavy losses and were forced into a retreat. Subsequently, their Emperor met with Nader and accompanied him in a humiliating fashion as a sort of hostage back to Delhi where Persian troops occupied the city.  Nader planned to leave India soon.  He planned little to no territorial gains but did plan to plunder much of the Mughal treasury, famed for its diamond, emeralds and rubies, including the the famed jeweled Peacock Throne of the Mughal Emperor.  A riot broke out in Delhi which killed Persian troops, outraged Nader let his army loose on the city.  Muslim and Hindu were killed and raped in the thousands.  The city was torched and looted until Nader ordered it to stop, 30,000 killed.  Indeed the Persians collected so levied tax in currency and jewels from the Mughals, that upon their return to Persia the government was so wealthy Nader placed a three year moratorium on local taxes in all of the empire. He also now forced the Mughals to cede all their land by treaty west of the Indus River, securing eastern Persia’s borders in Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan.  The Mughals were so weakened by Nader’s invasion that it allowed for a power vacuum to develop in Northern India that by century’s end would see the rise of the British East India Company overtaking much of country.

Nader had reached his pinnacle of success and wealth with his victory in India.  Despite the wealth and moratorium on tax, the economic burden of endless war continued to drain Persia’s economy.  He invaded the Northern Caucasus of modern Dagestan in Russia to mixed results, the Uzbeks in Central Asia with success, the Arabs of Oman on the Arabian Peninsula were also conquered and another war with the Ottomans from 1743-1746 which ended in stalemate.  The endless wars also saw him develop a rivalry with his first son, leading to having his son punished with torture and the blinding of his eyes.  He also suppressed supposed conspiracies and uprisings in Persia too, killing his opposition, implementing torture and symbolically stacking the skulls of his dissidents both real and imagined in literal towers of beheaded skulls.  Nader was also building a navy at this time but it was never large enough of a force to effect much power beyond the Persian Gulf. 

In 1747, Nader returned to Khorasan to fight Kurdish rebels in the area.  However, conspiracy finally caught up with him when relatives of his, worried about his draining of Persia’s economy with endless war and his own derangement from reality due to ill health in his advancing age, megalomania and desire for blood lust estranged him from their favor.  These relatives plotted an assassination and June 20th, acted on their plot when 15 assassins armed with swords rushed into his war tent as he slept intent on hacking him to death.  The noise of the nervous and impatient assassins awoke Nader who personally killed two in the struggle that followed.  His relative came in and hit him with a sword blow followed by three other conspirators stabbing him repeatedly while eyewitnesses say Nader pleaded for them to stop, offering to spare their lives and give them riches in return, finally another relative came in and beheaded Nader with one fell swoop, ending his once promising reign which had become twisted and deranged due to his paranoia.

His dynasty officially lasted until 1796 though it never reached the heights it did under Nader who had territory from Arabia and Iraq to Russia and all the way to India in his control by his conquest and military prowess.  It would be replaced by the Qajar Dynasty which ruled Persia until 1925.  Nader was a source of pride for Persia and source of ruin, the last in a tradition of Asiatic conquerors from the days of Genghis Khan and Timur, both of whom he emulated in his tactical prowess and his personal cruelty.  Nader indeed is another example somewhat like Napoleon Bonaparte who followed in the coming decades, of a man rising from nearly nothing to the heights of absolute power by personal military talent and opportunity in a time of national chaos.  Nader is sometimes called the “Persian Napoleon” though it maybe more correct to call Napoleon the “French Nader Shah!”

[victoriansword]

Wootz "Damascus Steel": History, Metallurgy, Production

This is going to be a rather long, and in depth video on wootz steel, it’s history, metallurgy, and production. For the most part, it is based upon excellent academic work by Ann Feuerbach and metallurgical experimentation by John Verhoeven. 

Historically (prior to the 18th century), "Damascus Steel" also referred to wootz, or crucible steel, which was produced all over South East and Central Asia and the middle east. In order to differentiate between the two forms of “Damascus”, I will be using the nomenclature of pattern welded steel, and wootz steel. 

Also known as pulad, fulad or bulat, wootz is an ancient crucible steel, which was produced from as early as the first century, CE. It is typified by being high in carbon content, usually between 1 and 2 percent and a low slag content. 

Metallurgical identification of wootz steel is problematic, as no single criteria can be used to differentiate between crucible steel, and decarburised wrought iron. In order to confidently say whether a sword is crucible steel or not, the blade must be polished and then etched in nital, and examined via low magnification microscopy. The presense of spheroidised cementite is considered evidence of a crucible produced steel. 

Wootz can occur in two different forms according to Ann Feuerbach, soft wootz with less than 0.8% carbon, and hard wootz with greater than 0.8%. The vast majority of pattern presenting wootz and historical wootz is hard wootz, whereas the majority of crucible steel that produces no pattern is soft wootz. 

The names Pulad and Fulad derive their meaning from the words for Purified, and fittingly Wootz also typically contains lower levels of slag than other steels, such as bloomery iron or decarburised wrought iron, however if the wootz was made using one of these as a source of iron, this can introduce slag into the final product. 

For the most part, the clay crucible would be filled with a charge. This crucible charge would contain iron, often a mix of “soft and hard iron”, referred to by Al Kindi as male and female iron, as well as some form of plant matter such as rice husks, pomegranate peels, wood chips, leaves or vines. These served two purposes: Firstly, to provide carbon to the steel, without which it would not melt and would not produce useable steel, and secondly to produce gasses as they pyrolise, protecting the steel from the atmosphere of the furnace. Some processed such as the Deccani process utilised in Hyderabad used glass as a protective flux. 

The crucible was heated for anywhere between 6 hours (as in the south Indian process) to two days, as in the Deccani process, or as much as 6 days in the Isfahan process. The resulting wootz button or egg was then polished in order to check the quality of the wootz. 

In the Isfahan process, the wootz ingots were taken from their crucibles after firing, and placed in a heated room or compartment for two days, to temper them and relieve stresses prior to forging. 

Isfahan wootz is particularly well known, as is Khorasani steel. The most famous of persian swordmakers hailed from Isfahan, Assad Allah, during the reign of Shah Abbas. There is an interesting legend as to how he rose to such prominence. According to this legend, Shah Abbas held a competition with the intention of finding a new shamshiraz, or swordmaker for his court. In order to root out the best of the best, he offered a prize for a swordsmith who could cut an iron helmet given to him by an ottoman sultan, without damaging their sword. All failed, but one. Assad Allah, whose name literally translates to Lion of God, approached the helmet, swung, and cleaved it in two, without rolling an edge. 

The secret to producing wootz steel was lost for a long time, as the ore sourced dried up around 1750, and wootz production ground to a halt. Crucible steel was still being made, but it lacked the distinct patterns in the steel, which had served as a guarantee of quality. It was only recently through the combined efforts of John Verhoeven and the late Al Pendray that it was revealed that trace amounts of carbide forming elements are responsible for the formation of wootz patterns. In particular, the pair discovered that vanadium was a vital alloying element in pattern formation.

Recently, Verhoeven has revisited the topic with a 2018 paper titled Damascus Steel Revisited, in which experimentation solidified his claim that internal banded microstructures resulted from microsegregation of Vanadium between dendritic and interdendritic regions of the ingot during solidification. Vanadium therefore acts as a nucleation point for cementite spheroid formation, leading to linearly aligned bands of cementite after forging.

[michaelpierce]

Orientals: the most desired rugs in the world.

They appeared before Christ as a form of protection against the cold and crossed the centuries becoming a true tradition. The rugs that are used today to give comfort and an air of elegance and sophistication to homes have become indispensable complements in the decoration of environments, and are synonymous with good taste. Whether they are oriental, artisanal, in chenille, fibers, wool, industrialized or not, there are options for all tastes and pockets. But the important thing is to observe and adapt the correct rug from Rug Source to the style of the environment in addition to the practicality necessary for the house.

More sophisticated environments that have antique-style furniture can receive more refined and elaborate rugs, such as oriental ones, which are often seen as symbols of status and nobility, in addition to the history they carry. Made mainly in the region of ancient Persia (now Iran), manually, a job that requires skill, concentration and determination. There are cases where a copy takes up to a year to be ready. “One of the advantages of having an oriental rug is the guarantee of exclusivity”, says decorator Maria Pompéia Mesquita, from Marchand d'art – Office of Decoration and Art, in Campinas.

As they are worked rugs, they should be admired and on display, with more emphasis on furniture. They are super colorful, because in the past artisans lived in the desert, in an almost monochromatic environment and this was the way they found to give color to the landscape. Pompéia explains that the making involves stretching the threads over a loom and tying these threads in knots, when one row is ready, another starts. The accuracy of the design depends on how the rug was woven and in what quantities the groups of threads were tied together. The more knots, the better the quality of the rug. An oriental rug can have more than 500 knots per square centimeter. The art of tying knots and weaving rugs and blankets was a classic creation of nomadic peoples.

Some of the greatest centers of tapestry sprang up in Persia and Turkey. “Among sedentary communities, rugs achieved new functions, such as covering the sacred areas of funerary chapels and mosques, displaying the wealth and good taste of merchants and princes, and providing material for profitable exports to Europe. The cradle of the tapestry tradition encompasses Turkey, ancient Persia (Iran), the Caucasus region, Turkmen Russia and Afghanistan”, adds Pompeii.

Oriental Categories:

The king of the desert (Gabeh) – These are rustic rugs, which do not reach 100 thousand knots per square meter, but with a very high coat. Gabeh are still made by desert nomads and very different from other types of carpet. They do not have an initial project of realization, they are simply made according to the creativity and will of the artisan.

Another detail is that many Gabehs are still made for home use and are also known as Khersak. The most commonly used colors are cream (which normally makes up almost every rug), black and sometimes green and blue.

Isfahan – It is one of the most expensive and sought after types, especially those made by one of the most traditional families, the Serafian family. Isfahan is a large city, the second largest in Iran, and it was once the capital of Persia. In the 16th century it marked the golden age of Persian tapestry. The characteristics of Isfahan rugs are the floral motifs and trees of life, with many red roses (which is the symbol of the city), and the rugs are often made with gold and silver. The colors often present are blue, gold and cream.

[pangeanews]

“Nel penetrare quella scrittura tenebrosa…”: catabasi nell’enigma Malraux (ovvero, dialogo con Stefania Ricciardi)

C’è qualcosa di radioso nella tenebra – certamente di ipnotico. Nel 1933 il Nobel per la letteratura va a Ivan Bunin, raffinatissimo scrittore russo emigrato a Parigi – ed è proprio quello l’anno in cui André Malraux, autore di romanzi lancinanti e lanciati – I conquistatori, La via dei re – mette un riflettore sul ceffo screziato della Storia, usando il coltello pubblica La condizione umana, e vince il Goncourt. Quel romanzo. Un manifesto dell’individualismo feroce, della fede nell’amicizia, del tradimento della Storia – sopra la linea di galleggiamento di un Asia fluorescente, livida, bizantina. L’epica della contraddizione in un linguaggio che lambisce l’esplosione, varca gli estremi, i chiaroscuri, come se Malraux usasse una penna caravaggesca, costellasse di candele la trama, un Georges de La Tour che anticipa i tremori postumani di Philip K. Dick. “Trasformò il viso: bocca serrata e tirata verso il mento, occhi socchiusi, come un samurai da Carnevale. E come se l’angoscia che le parole non bastavano a tradurre si esprimesse direttamente in tutta la sua potenza, cominciò subito a fare smorfie: eccolo tramutarsi in una scimmia, in un idiota, in un tipo spaventato, in un viso tumefatto, in tutte le maschere del grottesco che un volto umano può esprimere”: eccolo lì, l’autoritratto di Malraux, l’uomo dalle mille facce, il romanziere e l’ambizioso, l’ambivalente seduttore, l’ambiguo truffatore, il bandito e l’uomo politico, lo zerbino di De Gaulle e il sodale di Picasso, l’avventuriero e il diplomatico, l’uomo che ha vissuto troppo incarnando un inquieto senso di morte, l’antitutto. Ma uno scrittore non è questo, uno che si inscrive nella vita e che resta, inossidabilmente, inafferrabile? Ridotto a quel romanzo pazzesco, La condizione umana, più utile di tanta filosofia da gattabuia esistenzialista, Malraux torna a noi con un linguaggio sgargiante, nella nuova edizione Bompiani del capolavoro, tessuto da Stefania Ricciardi, già traduttrice di Marguerite Yourcenar, di Claude Simon, tra i tanti. Con Stefania siamo d’accordo: occorre ripubblicare – e ritradurre – le Antimemorie, che sono l’autobiografia romanzesca – o il romanzo autobiografico – di Malraux, lo specchio istoriato e ustorio de La condizione umana. Didatta della Storia, allucinato dal proprio ego, dilagante, Malraux teneva sulla lingua l’Asia (“Ho udito i frammenti di tegole mandarine della Città Imperiale quando le volpi sbucavano fra gli astri violetti ai piedi delle muraglie; i frammenti turchesi della Scuola coranica di Isfahan dove le rose crescevano ormai selvatiche dietro porte d’argento; i frammenti di porcellana dei templi siamesi che vengono ancora chiamati pagode…”), nel palmo sinistro l’Occidente e negli occhi la vita, dacché “gli artisti non parlano d’arte che in termini di vita, e la vita delle opere è diventata per loro il maggiore enigma”. Catabasi, dunque, nell’enigma Malraux. (d.b.)

“La condizione umana”: ci dettagli l’importanza di questo romanzo, che è anche l’apice del talento letterario di Malraux, in cui, mi pare, si traccia una ‘terza via’ tra i romanzi assoluti (Joyce, per dire) e quelli ‘di genere’. Cosa la affascina di quel romanzo?

Pubblicata nel 1933 da Gaston Gallimard, che per l’occasione strappa definitivamente Malraux a Grasset, La condizione umana, rappresenta ancora oggi una pietra miliare del Novecento letterario, tanto da figurare al quinto posto nella classifica dei migliori cento libri del secolo stilata da “Le Monde” in collaborazione con la FNAC, precedendo classici come quelli di Céline, Nabokov, Fitzgerald, García Márquez. Per quanto le classifiche siano opinabili, è comunque il segno della sua centralità nell’immaginario comune e nel dibattito contemporaneo non solo francese, se si pensa che Mario Vargas Llosa ha indicato La condizione umana come un’opera maestra, una delle più folgoranti della nostra epoca. Credo che il tempo continui a conferire grandezza a questo romanzo incentrato sull’uomo di fronte al proprio destino, con gli eventi storici che, lungi dall’essere un semplice sfondo, si riflettono nella coscienza dei personaggi. Al di là della profezia – tutto sommato facile – dell’ascesa dell’Oriente nello scacchiere politico mondiale, Malraux ha saputo cogliere il vertiginoso divenire dell’uomo novecentesco e credo che sia questa sua capacità premonitrice a costituire la grandezza della Condizione umana attraverso il tempo.

Ciò detto, mi sembra opportuno ricordare le profonde innovazioni sul piano stilistico e tematico che hanno contribuito al successo dell’opera, coronata dal Prix Goncourt. Malraux, strutturando il testo sulle tecniche del cinema, ha cambiato il modo di scrivere, sulla scia di altri capolavori dell’epoca come Il grande Gatsby di Francis Scott Fitzgerald ma soprattutto Manhattan transfert di John Don Passos, entrambi del 1925. Il confronto tra il manoscritto e l’edizione Gallimard del 1933 – passando per la versione apparsa in anteprima, da gennaio a giugno, sulla “Nouvelle Revue Française” – mostra il montaggio di scene scritte in momenti diversi e assemblate come sequenze di una messinscena narrativa. Nell’ottica tematica, La condizione umana introduce una novità di rilievo nella letteratura francese: perno del plot non è più l’introspezione o la psicologia – soprattutto amorosa – dei personaggi, ma la situazione dell’uomo nella Storia e nell’universo, un’esperienza non meno importante ma di sicuro meno esplorata.

Sul piano strettamente personale, il fascino del romanzo ha più volti: è il brivido che percorre Chen prima d’infilzare il coltello nella sua vittima dormiente, è l’immensità del dono di Katow che si accolla sofferenze atroci risparmiandole a due giovani semisconosciuti, è il viso “da morta” di May respinta dall’uomo che ama e che la ama, è il dolore per la perdita di una persona cara. Sono pagine toccanti perché mostrano l’animo umano non solo nell’eroismo, ma anche nella percezione della propria limitatezza e negli impulsi più carnali come il rancore, la gelosia, la vendetta.

La lingua di Malraux, ovvero: la fatica del traduttore. Come ha fatto ingresso nel linguaggio di Malraux, che strategie ha usato?

Come sempre, mi accosto all’opera da tradurre tendendo innanzitutto l’orecchio. È fondamentale: cerco di cogliere il ritmo, l’intonazione – che avvicina all’intenzione del testo. La prosa sfrondata, sincopata, della Condizione umana non facilita l’approccio. La “resistenza della carne al coltello” che perseguita il giovane Chen anche dopo l’omicidio si è come riflessa nella resistenza che avvertivo nel penetrare quella scrittura tenebrosa, a tratti criptica, straniante, ma con repentini, significativi squarci di luce: non a caso nel manoscritto, a margine, compaiono parole come éclairage e lumière. Il “disegno” delle scene narrate non è stato complicato. La difficoltà maggiore è consistita nell’applicare il chiaroscuro: gli effetti di luce, che Malraux dosa con parsimonia sortendo esiti tra i più poetici, e le gradazioni d’ombra, marcate da un’allusività variamente declinata. Credo che alcune scene non proprio nitide – e la foschia e la nebbia sono una costante nel romanzo –, certi ritratti sfumati, le parole sottintese, se da un lato confermano l’aura di mistero che cinge ogni essere umano, dall’altro invocano la partecipazione del lettore e alimentano la sua fantasia nel riempire quei vuoti, nel mettere a fuoco un’immagine. Ho trovato affascinante anche questo aspetto. L’edizione originale della Bibliothèque de la Pléiade, con l’apparato critico e le molteplici varianti tra le diverse edizioni fino a quella definitiva del ’46, mi ha aiutato a orientarmi nelle zone più oscure. È evidente, poi, che non si è trattato di entrare solo nel linguaggio di Malraux, ma anche nel contesto storico e culturale della Cina e della rivolta operaia di Shanghai nel 1927, il che ha richiesto un notevole lavoro documentale.

Qual è il tema sotterraneo della “Condizione umana”, che idea di mondo, di vita, tra azione e lacerazione, appare?

L’idea di una grande labilità: se non si agisce con efficacia e tempismo, tutto può crollare da un momento all’altro, un impero finanziario come l’ideale politico. Anche il potere è effimero, illusorio e, nella fattispecie, addirittura in balia degli umori femminili: l’insuccesso più cocente per Ferral, il presidente della Camera di commercio francese e del Consorzio franco-asiatico, è la beffa inflittagli dall’amante, non il fallimento delle proprie imprese. Di durevole restano l’amicizia e la fraternità, e l’adesione a valori comuni ha un tale spessore da prevalere sull’esito concreto dell’azione. Eppure il potere ha attentato alla condizione umana, perché ha trasformato quasi tutti gli uomini in bestie. Significativa la riflessione di Kyo in carcere: “Quegli esseri indistinguibili che brulicavano dietro le sbarre, inquietanti come i crostacei e i colossali insetti dei suoi incubi infantili, non erano più umani del carceriere. Solitudine e umiliazione totali”. Ecco, il tema sotterraneo del romanzo credo risieda proprio nell’idea di solitudine, spesso accompagnata dall’umiliazione, che pervade i personaggi a livelli diversi. Sfuggire a questa situazione è difficile se non impossibile. C’è chi s’impegna nell’azione, chi si rifugia nell’oppio, chi si crea un mondo alternativo. È il caso di Clappique, l’estroso personaggio che incarna quel tratto di stramberia onnipresente in Malraux, forse per compensare la gravità della meditazione metafisica.

In Malraux, sappiamo, vita immaginata e vissuta, biografia e romanzo si confondono. Penso, per questo, che le ‘Antimemorie’ siano il suo vero capolavoro, l’emblema di un intellettuale ‘anti-’, pur essendo stato fautore della cultura nella Francia ‘gollista’. È d’accordo?

A mio parere il capolavoro di Malraux è La condizione umana, ma le Antimemorie reggono egregiamente il confronto. Anche in questo caso Malraux ha cambiato il modo di scrivere un genere, l’autobiografia, tradizionalmente fondata sulla verità fattuale. Ponendo le memorie della propria vita all’intersezione con quella tendenza che dieci anni dopo, nel 1977, Serge Doubrovsky avrebbe definito autofiction, vale a dire la “finzione di eventi e fatti strettamente reali”, Malraux ha rinnovato il canone delle opere non inventate scritte in prima persona: il ricordo non è più da cercare dietro di sé, ma davanti a sé. Nella retrospezione, dunque, e nel futuro prospettico, perché il vissuto di un individuo è fatto anche di fantasie inconfessate, di desideri inappagati, di attese. È un concetto espresso peraltro dal Clappique della Condizione umana: “Non contava né il vero né il falso, ma il vissuto”; “Bisogna introdurre i mezzi dell’arte nella vita, mio caro, non per farne arte, ah! Buon Dio, no!, ma per una vita più ricca”. Per l’elevato valore di testimonianza narrativa, mi auguro che Bompiani ristampi le Antimemorie, dopo averle pubblicate nel ’68.

Provo una fatale affinità. La Yourcenar e Malraux sono scrittori entrambi affascinati dalla Storia e dalle culture ‘altre’. La differenza del loro linguaggio cela anche una differenza di personalità, penso. Chiedo a lei, che li ha tradotti entrambi, di tracciarla. 

Tra Malraux che ha fatto delle bugie una forma d’arte e Yourcenar che ha improntato la propria vita alla ricerca della verità non può esserci distanza maggiore, riflessa tutta nelle rispettive opere. Malraux era ossessionato dall’azione. Nella Condizione umana si legge: “Un uomo è la somma delle sue azioni. Di ciò che ha fatto, di ciò che può fare. Nient’altro”. Anche lo stile di vita è in palese contrasto. Al rigore anche espressivo di Yourcenar, al riserbo più assoluto e alla fuga dai riflettori, alle battaglie ecologiche, pacifiste e salutiste, si contrappone la leggendaria mitomania di Malraux, l’atteggiarsi a dandy, l’esistenza fuori dal comune, modellata sul mito, con frequenti incursioni nell’alcol e nella cocaina. La passione comune per i viaggi, per l’Oriente e per la Storia sottende implicazioni diverse. Se l’autrice delle Memorie di Adriano era stata educata ai viaggi sin dall’infanzia, e il richiamo dell’Oriente era anzitutto culturale (settantacinquenne, aveva deciso di studiare il giapponese) e filosofico, religioso, legato al buddismo, i primi viaggi di Malraux, in particolare quello con la moglie Clara in Indocina, per ritagliare alcuni bassorilievi e rivenderli a qualche ricco collezionista europeo o americano, avevano uno scopo materiale, e il desiderio d’Oriente rappresentava il fascino dell’avventura esotica, comune a tanti giovani intellettuali. Riguardo alla Storia, per Yourcenar era una fonte preziosa di conoscenza per andare alle radici del mondo e di se stessa, mentre per Malraux era l’occasione di lanciarsi nell’azione: la guerra di Spagna, la Resistenza francese. Si tratta di due personalità originali che nutrivano sogni altrettanto originali: Malraux voleva diventare Dio, Yourcenar desiderava morire “ad occhi aperti”.

Non mi pare che Malraux, che pure ha scritto libri vertiginosi – penso ai saggi su Picasso, l’idea del ‘Museo immaginario’ – goda di grande successo in Italia, rispetto ad autori come Camus e la Yourcenar. Come mai, secondo lei?

Camus e Yourcenar sono romanzieri di maggiore impatto, sia per i temi trattati che per la scrittura. Non so poi fino a che punto la poliedricità della figura di Malraux – critico d’arte, oratore, uomo d’azione, ministro in due governi de Gaulle – abbia condizionato il giudizio sulla sua opera letteraria, considerata perlopiù “politica” e legata a un contesto ben preciso.

Da esperta: che cosa andrebbe tradotto in Italia della letteratura francese, che cosa, ora, vorrebbe tradurre?

François Bon, classe ’53, meriterebbe l’attenzione del pubblico italiano: Sortie d’usine, Paysage fer, Daewoo sono pregevoli narrazioni tra fiction e nonfiction, il terreno più fecondo della letteratura attuale. Infine, ho riletto di recente un bellissimo romanzo ambientato a Barcellona, La marge, dello scrittore surrealista André Pieyre de Mandiargues. Prix Goncourt 1967, è stato pubblicato da Feltrinelli nel ’68, con la traduzione di Antonio Porta. Ecco, mi piacerebbe ritradurlo. È un altro romanzo da riportare in libreria, insieme alle Antimemorie, naturalmente.

L'articolo “Nel penetrare quella scrittura tenebrosa…”: catabasi nell’enigma Malraux (ovvero, dialogo con Stefania Ricciardi) proviene da Pangea.

from pangea.news https://ift.tt/2FBRSnu

[infinitesofnought]

Sing the gardens, my heart, those you never knew; gardens as if poured into glass: bright, unattainable. Waters and roses of Isfahan or Shiraz, sing them blissfully, praise them, beyond compare.

Show, my heart, that you aren’t without them. That when their figs ripen, they have you in mind. That when their winds grow almost visible amid the flowering branches, it’s you they embrace.

Avoid this error: that so many chances die when the one choice is made: to be! Silk thread, you were drawn into the fabric.

Whatever single image you made yourself part of (be it even a scene from a life of torment), feel how the whole carpet is meant, its glorious weave.

– Rainer Maria Rilke, Sonnets to Orpheus, Pt. II, No. 21, trans. Edward Snow