[Ύμνος στην Επιστήμη·
14/11/2016 § Σχολιάστε
Alexander Pope (1688 – 1744)
Πηγάζει η ελπίδα αιώνια στων ανθρώπων τα στήθη
Ποτέ τους Τώρα, πάντα Μέλλει τους, να είναι ευλογημένοι
Άβολα η ψυχή, από τον δικό της οίκο αποκλεισμένη
Κάθεται και μακρηγορεί για τη ζωή που θά ‘ρθει.
Αλί, ο φτωχός Ινδιάνος με τ’ άμαθο μυαλό
Που στα νέφη βλέπει τον Θεό, κι ακούει τον στον αγέρα.
Την ψυχή του δεν έχει μάθει να πετά περήφανη Επιστήμη
Μακριά στου ήλιου τα περάσματα, ψηλά στον Γαλαξία.
Κι όμως η Φύση απλή, της ελπίδας του έχει δώσει
Πέρα από τη βουνοκορφή έναν πιο ταπεινό παράδεισο.
Δοκίμιο περί ανθρώπου (An Essay on Man), 1733-1734
Απόδοση στα ελληνικά ©Μιχάλης Παναγιωτάκης από το βιβλίο του Michael Shermer, «Γιατί οι άνθρωποι πιστεύουν σε παράξενα πράγματα;» -Πανεπιστημιακές Εκδόσεις Κρήτης
Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
Man never is, but always to be blest.
The soul, uneasy and confined from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
- Line 95.
Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
His soul proud Science never taught to stray
Far as the solar walk or milky way;
Yet simple nature to his hope has giv’n,
Behind the cloud-topped hill, an humbler heav’n.
- Line 99.
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Sa vie m’était soumise, exhalait vers moi son léger souffle
13/11/2016 § Σχολιάστε
En fermant les yeux, en perdant la conscience, Albertine avait dépouillé, l’un après l’autre, ses différents caractères d’humanité qui m’avaient déçu depuis le jour où j’avais fait sa connaissance. Elle n’était plus animée que de la vie inconsciente des végétaux, des arbres, vie plus différente de la mienne, plus étrange, et qui cependant m’appartenait davantage. Son moi ne s’échappait pas à tous moments, comme quand nous causions, par les issues de la pensée inavouée et du regard. Elle avait rappelé à soi tout ce qui d’elle était au dehors ; elle s’était réfugiée, enclose, résumée, dans son corps. En le tenant sous mon regard, dans mes mains, j’avais cette impression de la posséder tout entière que je n’avais pas quand elle était réveillée. Sa vie m’était soumise, exhalait vers moi son léger souffle.
[Marcel Proust, A la recherche du temps perdu -Albertine Disparue]
light that gleams like the ghost of May ♫·
12/11/2016 § Σχολιάστε
George Orwell
photo: BBC
Summer for an Instant
Summer-like for an instant the autumn sun bursts out,
And the light through the turning elms is green and clear,
It slants down the path and the ragged marigolds glow
Fiery again, last flames of the dying year.
A blue-tit darts with a flash of wings, to feed
Where the coconut hangs on the pear tree over the wall;
He digs at the meat like a tiny pickaxe tapping
With his needle-sharp beak as he clings to the swinging ball.
Then he runs up the trunk, sure footed and sleek like a mouse,
And perches to sun himself; all his body and brain
Exalt in the sudden sunlight, gladly believing
That the cold is over and summer is here again.
But I see the umber clouds that drive for the sun
And a sorrow no argument ever can take away
Goes through my heart as I think of the nearing winter,
And the transient light that gleams like the ghost of May.
And the bird, unaware, blessing the summer eternal,
Joyfully labouring, proud of his strength, gay-plumed,
Unaware of the hawk and the snow and the frost-bound nights,
And his death foredoomed.
*
- George Orwell: The Complete Poems, compiled and by Dione Venables, is published by Finlay Press at £8.99. Available from scarthinbooks.com
- source: The Guardian
- Published in the Adelphi Magazine, May 1933
from staxtes.com
G o n e [Leonard Cohen, 1934-2016·
11/11/2016 § Σχολιάστε
Obituary
***
Sung at Woodstock/Isle of Wight, 1970
Suzanne
Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
You can hear the boats go by, you can spend the night forever
And you know that she’s half-crazy but that’s why you want to be there
And she feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China
And just when you mean to tell her that you have no love to give her
Then he gets you on her wavelength
And she lets the river answer that you’ve always been her lover
And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you
For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind
And Jesus was a sailor when he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching from his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain only drowning men could see him
He said all men will be sailors then until the sea shall free them
But he himself was broken, long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human, he sank beneath your wisdom like a stone
And you want to travel with him, and you want to travel blind
And you think you maybe you’ll trust him
For he’s touched your perfect body with her mind
Now, Suzanne takes your hand and she leads you to the river
She’s wearing rags and feathers from Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey on our lady of the harbor
And she shows you where to look among the garbage and the flowers
There are heroes in the seaweed, there are children in the morning
They are leaning out for love and they wil lean that way forever
While Suzanne holds her mirror
And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind
And you know that you can trust her
For she’s touched your perfect body with her mind
*
Suzanne lyrics © Leonard Cohen/ Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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