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Voyage récent de Marie-Geneviève à Sarajevo

Compte rendu de quelques visites à des bibliothèques de Sarajevo entre le 25 février et le 5 mars

Marie-Geneviève Guesdon

Bibliothèque nationale et Universitaire de Bosnie-Herzégovine, présidente de l'Association des Professionnels de l'Information - Bibliothécaires, Archivistes, Conservateurs de Musée
Rencontre avec Amra Residbegovic, secrétaire de la Bibliothèque et Bedita Islamovic, responsable des relations internationales.
Les livres envoyés l'année dernière ont été traités.
La situation concernant Vijecnica n'a pas évolué depuis l'automne dernier, telle que nous l'avons décrite dans l'article publié sur la liste Bibliopat et disponible sur le blog de l'Association. Cet article sera traduit en bosniaque et publié dans Bosniaca, revue de la Bibliothèque nationale, dont deux numéros ont été publiés depuis ma dernière visite. Nous nous tiendrons au courant d'une éventuelle évolution de la situation.
La Bibliothèque souhaiterait accroître ses relations avec la BNF. C'est une demande que je peux transmettre.
Mme Residbegovic propose que quelqu'un de l'AABBH assiste à la réunion de l'Association des professionnels de l'information qui se tiendra en octobre.

Musée National
Rencontre avec Andrea Dautovic, bibliothécaire.
Elle nous remercie beaucoup pour les envois de livres et la réponse à une demande d'ouvrages particuliers destinés à un des chercheurs du Musée. Grace aux contacts repris avec des bibliothèques françaises et la possibilité d'envoyer les volumes par le centre André Malraux, les échanges fonctionnent, mais le Musée n'a plus beaucoup de moyens pour publier ses revues.
Deux expositions sont en cours, l'une sur les mosaiques romaines, qui a demandé un travail d'installallation très important, et l'autre sur les chemises, élément du costume traditionnel de différentes régions de Bosnie, avec une scénographie faite par les étudiants de l'école des Beaux-Arts. Elle resteront en place jusqu'en septembre : à voir si vous passez par Sarajevo.

Institut oriental
Rencontre avec Lejla Gazic.
L'Institut termine la correction des épreuves d'un ouvrage de synthèse sur la Bosnie dans la période ottomane. Un catalogue de la centaine de manuscrits entrés à l'Institut depuis 1992 est en préparation.

Bibliothèque de la Faculté d'études islamiques
La bibliothèque est intéressée par une quinzaine d'ouvrages proposés par deux chercheuses du CNRS retraitées, qui concernent surtout l'Espagne musulmane (domaine de recherche de l'un des chercheurs de la Faculté).

Reste à trouver un moyen de les expédier.

Festival de l'Amitié

Chers amis de l'AABBH,


Ce festival de musique et de danse a lieu tous les ans du 1er au 10 août à Gorazde. Je vous en parlerai plus en détail bientôt. Pour le moment, voici une photo d'Isabelle Le Paroux prise l'été dernier pendant les festivités.

Deux versions d'une magnifique chanson macédonienne

Chers amis,

Je vous recommande cette ancienne mélopée macédonienne
qui grosso modo raconte l'histoire du coucher de soleil
qui reviendra le lendemain matin

alors que la jeunesse s'en va

et ne revient jamais ...

Voici 'Zajdi, zajdi sonce' par Tose Proeski :


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LKRaXPYSzKY

et Alma Subasic :


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hDgMIR6RSM8



Enjoy !


PS Les photos de coucher de soleil et des chameaux sont de ma copine Isabelle Le Paroux. Elle les a prises lors d'un récent festival de musique et de danse qui a lieu tous les ans à Gao, Mali.

Ultime épisode série chardons&Co !

Chers amis !

Comme aujourd'hui il fait moche et il pleut je me suis dit que certains d'entre vous pourraient apprécier cette version de mon sonnet sur les mauvaises herbes.

Gordana et moi l'avons traduit, adapté et réécrit à la manière des poètes de l'ancienne république de Raguse(aujourd'hui Dubrovnik).

Oda korovu

Kako protivu ruža, lala, perunika, ljubica biti

Smatram se sretnom žrtvom čarobnih ljepotica
Pitam se otkud mi odjednom ova vrtoglavica :
Od pomisli na jasmin il' opojnog mirisa tog cvijeta ?

Ne pokušavaj nagovarat' me da prigovaram

Grabuljama, lopati, škarama, motiki, štihači
Vjernim slugama vrtnih kraljica lijeposti

Što neumorno skladaju perfektne im gredice!

Ne, ja uistinu nikad necu prezrijeti

Travnjaka zeleni baršun nit geometriju
Iskonsku sjenica i šedrvana. Nipošto!

Al' večeras pjevam čičku koprivi maslačku trnju
Različku tratinčici grmlju bodljikavom šipražju
Rujnom poljskom maku !

Amis du chardon en suédois !

Chers amis des bibliothécaires de Bosnie-Herzégovine !

Désolée, mais ces jours-ci ce blog se concentre un peu trop beaucoup sur la traduction-adaptation en différentes langues de mon sonnet sur les mauvaises herbes. Après la version bosniaque, française, anglaise et italienne voici une traduction-adaptation en suédois de mon amie Gordana de Vasteräs.

Merci à elle !

Dans la version de Gordana les amis du chardon sont devenus 'Maskroswänner', c'est à dire des amis des pissenlits ! Ce mot veut dire aussi que les amis sont comme des pissenlits, ils poussent partout et sont très résistants.

Le pissenlit est également l'emblème du parti des verts suédois.


Maskrosvänner

Nej, det är inget fel på trädgårdsrosor och irisar
Jag är den förste som faller för deras magi.
Kanske jasminens söta namn som gör mig yr
eller dess utsökta doft måtro?

Ingen idé försöka intala mig, jag vill aldrig belacka
Spade, hacka, skära, räfsa, kratta, raka, trädgårdssax
De tjänar trofast platoniska skönhet
Se så ivriga att ordna perfekta blomstersängar!

Nej, jag kan sannerligen aldrig förringa
Gräsmattornas gröna sammet äkta
Utsiktspaviljongenas geometri. Aldrig.

Men denna natt vill jag lovsjunga maskros
Tistel nässla fräken salvia ogräs gråbo
Taggiga buskar blåklint och vallmo, örnbräken
Flyghavre lomme åkervinda, lyssna! Jag sjunger om er.

A Safet et Edina

THREE APPLES

Safet preferred pears to apples.

The painter claimed that apples had definitely become tasteless due to all the genetic manipulations of the fruit. According to him pears did not suffer to such extent of the ruthless experimentation of scientists.

Also as a painter he did not find apples as interesting as pears. Yet while observing an apple he could not prevent the rush of usual erotic and aesthetic visions triggered inevitably by its curves and soft lines. Nevertheless Safet kept claiming that pears stimulated more his imagination. An apple suggests only a part of the human anatomy while the pear itself is nearly a complete body. A woman's body.

But the very moment he peeped into the smallish square picking basket a smile lit up his face. He saw on the bottom three perfectly shaped apples laying on violet cardboard beds. The apples wore tiny almost invisible whitish spots scattered on their green skin.

They were Granny Smith's. That was dully certified by a miniature hand script signature across the elliptical stickers. At first sight the apples looked identical arranged in a theatrical way with their stalks directed upwards. The middle-apple stalk carried a sole dark green leaf which looked fake. Safet touched it lightly and found that it was actually real. He then smelled the apples. Their fragrance was fresh and clean. He brushed the light brown basket handle which was shiny and a bit warm. He examined the inside and outside walls as well as the bottom of the basket. He lifted one apple after another and replaced them carefully on the precise spot where they used to lay. There was no note, no letter, no address of the sender, nor his own either.

The whole story was becoming somehow an exciting riddle. Safet leaned on his elbow at the ladder stained by thousands of paint spots. He lighted a Drina. A greenish light was flowing through the slits of the basket like water out of a well. The leaf of the middle apple's stalk turned black and the apples darkened too. The sky above the Canale Grande was ripped open by a sudden zigzag of a lightning flash followed by the rumbling of a deafening thunder. Three apples were glowing from the basket just as some live green light bulbs of 25 watts.

None of the tools of the painter's work table were removed or pushed aside. His own order … or better to say, disorder remained unchanged. Palettes, tubes of paints, knives, caps, sponges, screwdrivers, pieces of old plastic-coated sheets, withered flowers and all kind of stuff were scattered amongst the armies of jars full of brushes. He peered into his pack of cigarettes, flattened it with his thumb and pulled out last Drina half crushed. Then he crumpled the empty pack and threw it in the trash bin. The paper ball brushed the bin's rig and stopped nearby.

Thunder echoed in the distance. A wind crept through the window opened ajar and started playing with curtains made out of torn white Venice lace. Dusty leaves and purple flowers of a geranium growing in a light blue old kitchen pot shivered on the breeze. With half squinting eyes Safet glanced at his giant and unfinished painting:

A group of walking men, women and children. On the left side a boy with a red basketball cap and an NBA sweatshirt holds the hand of a little girl dressed in blue. Behind them a woman carries a huge plastic bag and a checkered travel bag. A woman in the middle with a large white bundle in her arms. Is it a sac of flour or a child? Right in front of them two people of unknown sex with low bowed heads and muscle tensed arms each of them pushing a wheelbarrow. An old man is stretched in one of them. His large feet with a pair of thick woollen socks are swaying over the wheel. The old man's huge and sun baked fist rests on his breast covered with a light-red cloth that could be a prayer rug or a Shepard’s bag. In the second wheelbarrow there is an old woman, half lying, half seated, with her head hanging above the wheel. It looks like she wants to say something to the man in the other wheelbarrow.

Hundreds of cans, jars, mugs and pots of all shapes and origins are scattered all over the stained floor. Some of them have the shimmering deposits of fresh or dried paint. Some are filled with plaster, sand, lime, nuts, chutneys, egg shells, mixtures of crushed moss, leaves and other bizarre stuff. And this chaos is only a visible part of the iceberg. All painter's cupboards, chests of drawers, tables, gueridons are overcrowded with stacks of sketches, studies, magazines, catalogs and stacks of old issues of La Reppublica, Figaro, Oslobodjenje, Le Monde. Safet enjoys inserting on his paintings the old newspapers clips with yellowish photographs, articles and titles.

But who the hell could have sent him this funny basket with three apples?

The heavy raindrops started falling onto the flat sea surface. The sudden violent wind stroke disturbed the lagoon surface and the bluish mist above it.
Safet followed a crease on the sea done by a lonely gondola boat heading hastily towards the shelter of the port.

One could not tell the ashen sky from the sea.

The painter collapsed into the antique leather armchair and closed his eyes:

Three women heads bowed onto the tiny pieces of paper sheet seated in the classroom of the primary school 'Bisera Omanovic'. Each woman watches closely an apple sitting in front of her.

'Still life' is today's topic of Safet's painting lesson. The choice of the technique is left to pupils and amount of time allotted to its execution not defined.

In the real life Hatema works as librarian in the Music Academy. She has chosen the aquarelle. Her apple is delicate and refined just like her own face. With two energetic strokes of her well watered brush she adds the translucent shadows of the apple projected on the table surface. The identical violet shadows are surrounding Hatema's bright black eyes.

The favourite Meïra's tool is a simple pencil. Her movements are awkward but they don't lack energy. She is a clerk in a real life and had joined Safet's painting lesson after the tragic death of her two children. The oval of Meïra's apple has the shape of a pregnant woman's tummy right before child's birth.

As for Zlata she is a playful creature who loves experimenting and above all cubism. Always made up, impeccably dressed and evolving in a constant cloud of perfume. She is not interested in learning traditional painting techniques. Her apple is a translucid cube with two marbles in it's core.

Safet is watching his three disciples focused on work and not even noting the coming of the night.

'My dear ladies, that would be all for today. And kindly remember to eat your apples. Boy, you three surely need some fresh vitamins.'

'Yes Sir, one apple a day keeps the doctor away ! laughs Zlata.

Safet's painting lessons take place twice a week. The previous day a guy from a French humanitarian organization gave him as present a box of apples. Feeling like he was deprived of apples for ages the painter could not believe his eyes. He wolfed the apples so quickly that he felt sick.

Three apples left and the painter decided to offer them to his three pupils, first as a model for a still life and then as a fine dessert. During those days of war in Sarajevo everybody was missing vitamins and needed them badly.

But at the next painting lesson Safet was so surprised (and disappointed) when he discovered that the ladies refused his present! For days and days three apples sat on the school old wooden tables. Safet's disciples made out of them dozens and dozens of still life studies.

The girls have been learning the Art of resisting temptation ? That was it.
(Probably)