Думаю рассказывать кто такой Тим Бартон бесполезно, а вот рассказать о его книге пожалуй стоит.
Я сначала сомневалась, в какой раздел публиковать пост, в иллюстрации, так как они заслуживают особого внимания, либо же в книги, и все же решила опубликовать его здесь.
“The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy and other stories” была написана и проиллюстрирована режиссером Тим Бартоном в 1997 году. Стихи представленные в сборнике, насквозь пропитаны Бартоновским духом – странные, немного жутковатые, одинокие и беспомощные персонажи заполняют книгу.
Но рассказывать о книге бесполезно, можно лишь сказать, что сами иллюстрации автора большой плюс, придающий сборнику особый характер, лучше смотрите сами.
The Voodoo Girl
Her skin is white cloth,
and she’s all sewn apart
and she has many colored pins
sticking out of her heart.
She has many different zombies
who are deeply in her trance.
She even has a zombie
who was originally from France.
But she knows she has a curse on her,
a curse she cannot win.
For if someone gets
too close to her,
the pins stick farther in.
The Girl with many Eyes
One day in the park
I had quite a surprise.
I met a girl
who had many eyes.
She was really quite pretty
(and also quite shocking!)
and I noticed she had a mouth,
so we ended up talking.
We talked about flowers,
and her poetry classes,
and the problems she’d have
if she ever wore glasses.
It’s great to now a girl
who has so many eyes,
but you really get wet
when she breaks down and cries.
\
и мое любимое
Mummy Boy
He wasn’t soft and pink
witha fat little tummy;
he was hard and hollow,
a little boy mummy.
«Tell us, please, Doctor,
the reason or cause,
why our gundle of joy
is just a bundle of gauze.»
“My diagnosis,” he said
«for better or worse,
is that your son is the result
of an old pharoah’s curse.»
That night they talked
of their son’s odd condition-
they called him «a reject
from an archaeological expidition.»
They thought of some complex
scientific explanation,
but assumed it was simple
supernatural reincarnation.
With the other young tots
he only played twice,
an ancient game of vergin sacrifice.
(But the kids ran away, saying, “You aren’t very nice.”)
alone and rejected, Mummy Boy wept,
then went to the cabinet
where the snack food was kept.
He wiped his wet slockets with his mummified sleeves,
and sat down to a bowl of sugar-frosted tanna leaves.
One dark, gloomy day,
from out of the fog,
appeared a little white mummy dog.
For his newfound wrapped pet,
he did many things,
like building a dog house
à la Pryimid of kings.
It was late in day-
just before dark.
Mummy Boy took his dog
for a walk in the park.
The park was empty
except for a squirrel,
and a birthday party for a Mexican girl.
The boys and girls had all started to play,
but noticed that thing that looked like a papíer mâché.
«Look its a píñata,"
said one of the boys,
«Let’s crack it wide open
and get the candy and toys.»
They took a baseball bat
and whacked open his head.
Mummy Boy fell to the ground;
he finally was dead.
Inside of his head
were no candy or prizes,
jast a few stray bettles
of various sizes.
here more http://homepage.eircom.net/~sebulbac/burton/home.html
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