3. Jens
Martensson
Nizar Al
Qabbani
Nizar Tawfiq Qabbani was a
Syrian diplomat, poet and
publisher. His poetic style
combines simplicity and
elegance in exploring themes of
love, eroticism, feminism,
religion, and Arab nationalism.
4. Jens
Martensson
Love poems – overrated?
Poets and love
Love poems—they're been with us at least
4,000 years. Type the single word “poem” into
Google and the first item you are offered is a
link to love poems. No single subject rushes
the poet more breathlessly to his desk, drunk
with overpowering emotion, a-tingle with vivid
imagery. But given both the love poem's long
history and arguable surfeit, however is our
poet to find anything new enough, fresh
enough, not only to be worthy of his exquisite
condition, but of its precious object? And, more
importantly to us, as readers and contesters,
how is it possible to write a love poem that a
third party might be interested to read? The
answer, perhaps, has something to do with
strategy, because, let's face it, the love poem is
a poem on a mission..
5. Jens
Martensson
أيظن؟
Does he
think?
“does he think” is one of Nizar’s
most famous poets (and one of
the few that became hit songs)
for Najat Al Sageera along many
more like (A letter from a
woman) and (I ask you to leave)
6. Jens
Martensson
Love poems – overrated?
Does he think?
Does he think that I am a doll in his hands?
I do not think about going back to him
Today he came back as if nothing happened
And in his eyes the innocence of a child
To tell me that I am his life’s companion
And his one and only love
With flowers in his hands, how could I turn him down?
And my youth is drawn on his lips?
I don’t remember anymore, the fires in my blood
I buried my head on his chest Like a child returned to his father
Even my dresses that I neglected welcomed him back
And I danced on his feet and forgave him
Asking how is he and crying for hours on his shoulders
Without realising, I let my arm sleep on his like a bird
Forgetting all the hatred I have in a moment
And who said I despise him?
How many times did I say I will not go back to him
But I did.. and how sweet was it going back..
7. Jens
Martensson
From the first impression (the title
of the poem) it seems like the
subject has made a final firm
decision. Which builds up
anticipation to the first verses,
however that stance starts to
crumble slowly as the poem
progresses. She starts to retract her
‘decision’ by asking questions like
“how can I turn him down with
flowers in his hand?” seeming as if
she had no choice. With little
persuasion from her lover, she
surrenders. This is very unusual
from Nizar al Qabbani – most if not
all his works portray an angry strong
female that doesn’t back down
easily. The tone is familiar however
(monologue) as seen in “Letter from
a Stupid Women”. The choice of
metaphors such as “my abandoned
dresses dancing to welcome him”
and multiple sarcastic rhetorical
questions emphasis on the opposite
polars of emotions expressed by the
subject. However it is a very clear
confession of love, celebration and
rejoice between two separated
lovers.
11. Jens
Martensson
Train to Busan Official Poster
Train to Busan (2016)
Yeon Sang-ho’s “Train to Busan” is the most purely entertaining
zombie film in some time, finding echoes of George Romero’s and
Danny Boyle’s work, but delivering something unique for an era in
which kindness to others seems more essential than ever. For
decades, movies about the undead have essentially been built on a
foundation of fear of our fellow man—your neighbor may look and
sound like you, but he wants to eat your brain—but “Train to Busan”
takes that a step further by building on the idea that, even in our
darkest days, we need to look out for each other, and it is those who
climb over the weak to save themselves who will suffer. Social
commentary aside, it’s also just a wildly fun action movie, beautifully
paced and constructed, with just the right amount of character and
horror. In many ways, it’s what “World War Z” should have been—a
nightmarish vision of the end of the world, and a provocation to ask
ourselves what it is that really makes us human in the first place.
Seok-woo (Gong Yoo) is a divorced workaholic. He lives with his
mother and barely spends any time with his daughter Su-an (Kim Su-
an). He’s so distant from her that he buys her a Nintendo Wii for her
birthday, ignoring that she has one already, and that he’s the one who
bought it for her for Children’s Day. To make up for this rather-awkward
moment, he agrees to give Su-an what she really wants—a trip to her
mother’s home in Busan, 280 miles away. It’s just an hour train ride
from Seoul. What could possibly go wrong? Even the set-up is a
thematic beauty, as this is more than just a train ride for Seok-woo and
Su-an—it’s a journey into the past as a father tries to mend bridges
12. Jens
Martensson
Train to Busan cast at
Cannes Film Festival
Train to Busan (2016)
Before they even get to their early-morning train ride, Seok-woo and
Su-an see a convoy of emergency vehicles headed into Seoul. When
they get to the train, Sang-ho beautifully sets up his cast of characters,
giving us beats with the conductors, a pair of elderly sisters, a husband
and his pregnant wife, an obnoxious businessman (a vision of Seok-
woo in a couple decades), and even a baseball team. A woman who’s
clearly not well gets on the train just before it departs, and just as
something else disturbing but generally unseen is happening in the
station above the platform. Before you know it, the woman is taking out
the jugular of a conductor, who immediately becomes a similarly
mindless killing machine.. They replicate like a virus, turning whole
cars of the train into dead-eyed flesh-eaters in a matter of seconds.
They are rabid dogs. And you thought your Metra commute was bad.
The claustrophobic tension of “Train to Busan” is amplified after a
brilliantly staged sequence in a train station in which our surviving
travelers learn that the entire country has gone brain-hungry.. Early in
the film, Seok-woo tells his daughter, “At a time like this, only watch out
for yourself,” but he learns that this isn’t the advice we should live by or
pass down to our children. Without spoiling anything, the survivors of
“Train to Busan” are only so lucky because of the sacrifice of others.
And the film is thematically stronger than your average zombie flick in
the way it captures how panic can make monsters of us all, and it is
our responsibility to overcome that base instinct in times of crisis.
after the near-perfect first hour of “Train to Busan,” the film slows its
progress and makes a few stops that feel repetitive, but the journey
