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Benjamin Fondane

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Benjamin Fondane


Born
in Iași, Romania
November 14, 1898

Died
October 02, 1944

Genre


alt spelling: Benjamin Fundoianu

Benjamin Fondane or Benjamin Fundoianu; born Benjamin Wechsler, Wexler or Vecsler, first name also Beniamin or Barbu, usually abridged to B.; was a Romanian and French poet, critic and existentialist philosopher, also noted for his work in film and theater. Known from his Romanian youth as a Symbolist poet and columnist, he alternated Neoromantic and Expressionist themes with echoes from Tudor Arghezi, and dedicated several poetic cycles to the rural life of his native Moldavia. Fondane, who was of Jewish Romanian extraction and a nephew of Jewish intellectuals Elias and Moses Schwartzfeld, participated in both minority secular Jewish culture and mainstream Romanian culture. During and after World War I, he w
...more

Average rating: 4.11 · 278 ratings · 38 reviews · 41 distinct worksSimilar authors
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Cinepoems and Others

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Le mal des fantômes

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4.38 avg rating — 16 ratings — published 1980 — 4 editions
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Ulisses

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Privelisti -si inedite-

4.18 avg rating — 11 ratings — published 1974 — 4 editions
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Rimbaud le voyou

3.60 avg rating — 10 ratings — published 1933 — 9 editions
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La conciencia desdichada

4.71 avg rating — 7 ratings — published 1936 — 11 editions
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Exodus

4.57 avg rating — 7 ratings — published 2008 — 3 editions
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Baudelaire et l'expérience ...

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Opere I: Poezia antumă

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4.50 avg rating — 6 ratings — published 2011
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More books by Benjamin Fondane…
Quotes by Benjamin Fondane  (?)
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“Sinaia

(II)

Les montagnes font un tourbillon d'eau contre ta joue ;
tu en détaches le bouquet mouillé sur les sapins
aux genoux ployés, à la crinière de nuit,
chevaux rétifs, hennissants et captifs.
Sur les bords de l'étang aux longs cils,
je sais des rires de femmes engloutis
et des regards limpides verdis comme la terrine.
Une flamme annonce l'imminence du vide,
et le chemin cerne l'étang, comme un couteau.
Que de sang ! Le temps, le temps éclate sur le couchant ;
la forêt a ce soir la folle effervescence de la bonde.
Les cerfs ne savent rien de l'automne roux,
et dans leur sommeil, âmes de feuille aux pieds nus,
ils rêvent limiers, cors et chasseurs redoutés,
venus s'emparaient du bocage, de ses bois, de ses sabots –
et la forêt, abattue, pleure, les narines palpitantes.”
Benjamin Fondane, Privelisti -si inedite-

“Épitaphe

Ci-gît recouvert de poèmes
Isaac Laquedem,
un peu trop porté sur l'extrême,
enfant du vieux Sem,

ayant fait le tour de la terre,
le tour des vivants,
où tout lui parut éphémère,
et tout captivant,

bon bougre après tout –mais instable
(le mal des aïeux),
partout écrivant dans le sable
la langue des cieux.

(p.239-240)”
Benjamin Fondane, Le mal des fantômes

“L'HEURE DE VISITE
                                 à Gala Galaction


Ce soir, ma tête comme une lampe
brûle les vestiges fumants de l'huile –
et quelqu'un a posé la main sur la poignée,
et quelqu'un m'effleure la joue.

En ce soir sans fin, quelqu'un
tousse en moi, crache et rend l'âme,
mais pour rien au monde je ne voudrais fuir – ni
toucher de nouveau le ciel de mes mains !

Je suis dans la chambre comme dans un train
attendant qu'un paysage brise le carreau,
et je tiens à la main mon âme solaire –
mon malheureux passeport de voyage.

Le silence qui s'est levé en moi me fait mal –
l'obscurité qui s'est levée me fait mal,
comme un sol boueux où dorment, recroquevillés,
les buffles noirs de l'inconnu.

On dirait qu'une ombre en moi a pris la fuite,
et ce soir je me sens si bien,
que j'ai presque envie d'arracher de mes mains
les orties qui ont assailli mon corps.”
Benjamin Fondane, Privelisti -si inedite-

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