Te cunosc de ieri,
Te cunosc de undeva.
Pașii tăi acum mă poartă prin spații nevăzute…
Și apoi m-ai părăsit.
English translation
I know you since yesterday,
I know you from somewhere.
Your steps are now carrying me through unseen spaces…
And then you left me.
Que tan sagrado puede ser lo que encadenados nos deja?, acaso las cadenas no deben de ser rotas por la santidad de lo sagrado?
Un monje consagrado a lo sagrado está encadenado en este plano y el otro, el que sin cadenas andas no está dentro de lo sagrado.
A pensar se aprende, y mientras más se aprende nuestras cadenas al conocimiento se engrosan dejando de lado lo sagrado, pero si engordamos las cadenas de los sagrado en muchos aspectos nuestra unión con lo que nos rodea deja de estar con cadenas para nosotros.
Es complejo y complicado el no querer cadenas y consagrarse a lo sagrado, pensando que está práctica nos liberará de toda cadena.
How sacred can what leaves us chained be? Shouldn’t the chains be broken by the sanctity of the sacred?
A monk consecrated to the sacred is chained on this plane and the other, the one who walks without chains, is not within the sacred.
You learn to think, and the more you learn, our chains of knowledge thicken, leaving aside the sacred, but if we thicken the chains of the sacred, in many aspects our union with what surrounds us is no longer chained to us.
It is complex and complicated to not want chains and to consecrate oneself to the sacred, thinking that this practice will free us from all chains.
English translation below the original.
Dimineață rece, încă întunecată. El se înalță, împrăștiind lumină pe cerul negru, plin de nouri. Un gol de lumină pâlpâind între nori. El lucește. El cade. Alunecă pe rază-n jos. Ochii ei se răsfață, privind destinu-i tragic. E mort.
English translation
Cold morning, still dark. He rises, spreading light in the black sky, full of clouds. A void of light flickering between the clouds. He shines. He falls. Sliding down the radius. Her eyes indulge, regarding his tragic destiny. He's dead.
C. elegans called the sun,
in prayer,
And deflowered its sons,
Making layers
of dust.
Slithering through the births
of their sins,
Demons taunt their turf
with the ashes of ruins,
Begging their ancestors for relief
from the abyss.
Blisters overcome by bliss,
Solar mercy,
Rains from above
deliver solace to the worm.
To the world, hungry and small, not knowing where they came from, what it means to be alive, that is how they stood, proud and confused. To the eye of a stranger, they were innocent, helpless creatures, waiting for rescue. When they played, they were alive, When they slept, they were alive, When they sang, they were alive, When they sought and explored, they were alive. Salvation came to them, unannounced, unrequested, unnecessary. They were taken, rescued, fed, comforted and protected. Were they alive, then? When did they die? We may seek answers to these questions in our minds. But a fact is a fact, after all. And sometimes there are no reasons, it just happens. Why the guilt, then? Why the pain? Why can't the good live, and the bad perrish? Such childish questions we ask ourselves, sometimes. When we play, when we sleep, when we sing, when we expore, When we are sad, when we are awake, when we are quiet, when we rest… We are alive. For now... But when do we really die? And what does it take for us to stay alive? For protection, food, sleep, play, comfort and love are in vain. We are born, and then we die. That is how it is. It just happens.
În lume, flămânzi și mici, fără să știe de unde vin și ce-nseamnă a fi viu, stăteau colea, mândri și confuzi. În ochii unui străin erau ființe nevinovate, neajutorate, care așteptau să fie salvate. Când se jucau, erau vii, Când dormeau, erau vii, Când cântau, erau vii, Când căutau, explorau si priveau, erau vii. Mântuirea a venit la ei, neanunțată, nesolicitată, inutilă. Au fost primiți, salvați, hrăniți, mângâiați, protejați. Dar erau ei vii, atunci? Când au murit? Putem căuta în mintea noastră răspunsuri la aceste întrebări. Dar un fapt este un fapt. Și uneori nu sunt motive, pur și simplu s-a-ntâmplat. Atunci, de ce vina? De ce durerea? De ce nu poate trăi Binele și nu piere Răul? Astfel de întrebări infantile ne punem uneori. Când ne jucăm, când dormim, când cântăm, când plângem, când suntem triști, când suntem treji, când suntem liniștiți, când ne odihnim… Noi suntem vii. Momentan... Dar când murim cu-adevărat? Și de ce avem nevoie pentru a rămâne-n viață? Pentru că protecția, hrana, somnul, joaca, liniștea și dragostea sunt inutile. Ne naștem și apoi murim. Pur și simplu, așa stau lucrurile. Pur și simplu se întâmplă.
An ascetic was walking along his favourite path, on the mountain where he lived, pondering the human condition. Suddenly there appeared from the sky before him Orion, who, on his tempestuous journey among the stars in the chariot stolen from Phaethon, had spotted the ascetic and decided to come down to speak to him.
The ascetic had long known Orion, the other titans and gods of the heavens, yet his only direct communication with the deities until then had been with Saturn alone. Orion, then, appeared before the ascetic, incredibly tall, strong, burning with the fire of passion that moved him, and thundering in speech:
“Ascetic, I have entrusted you with a mission.”
“What do you command, master?” he asked.
“There is a man on earth named Paris. Imbued with the words of Venus and the illusion of a lover far awah from himself, he will unleash a great war that will destroy many lives. I send you to kill Paris, so that he does not produce the undesired tragedy.”
Thus spoke Orion, then climbed back into the chariot of fire and soared into the heavens.
The poor ascetic was now faced with a dilemma. He had never killed in his life, not even such a thought had crossed his mind. Every time Saturn gave him a mission, it was to save lives, not to end them. On the other hand, Orion’s argument had great significance – if this Paris didn’t die, many lives would be destroyed. And besides, Orion was a deity, and an ascetic was not allowed to bend to the will of gods or titans, otherwise the ascetic himself would have been destroyed.
Not knowing what to do, the ascetic went into a cave, and for three days and three nights he laid awake, eating nothing, speaking nothing, drinking nothing, and pondering the matter over and over again. Darkness, hunger and thirst no longer tormented him, for the ascetic often used to withdraw in this way, in caves, before making an important decision.
After the three days, the decision was made. No, he could not kill that Paris. He didn’t know him, he didn’t know if the man was good or evil, and most importantly, Paris had not yet committed anything, so he couldn’t be trialed for something he hadn’t yet done. But this decision did not remove the remaining problem that the commandments from heaven are not to be broken. The ascetic had taken upon himself whatever punishment would follow his disobedience. Saturn was the supreme judge, perhaps he would understand him, give him justice and the ascetic would not be punished.
We all know the story of Paris. The war finally happened, just as Orion had predicted. The great Saturn had already found out everything, and his harsh judgement fell upon the ascetic. The ascetic, despite the fact that Orion was at that time a rebel in heaven, had no right to defy his command, for on earth Orion was the strongest of all and a master. Saturn decided to erase the ascetic’s memories, to send him among men, where he was to have an extremely prolific life, to be a famous physician, who at the end of his life would wish for immortality, and then be visited by a jinn named Mephisto, who will take Faust, the former ascetic, on an infinite journey through time and space, where Faust will feel more and more hollow on the inside, until he will be nothing but a lifeless shell, but will nevertheless live on forever.
Just as Saturn cast the punishment on Faust, the trees of Krakow rebelled against what they have judged to be a cruel decision. The trees were the avatars of the gods on earth, and they carried out the judgments of the gods, whether cruel or kind. As consequence for the tree’s revolt, Saturn took away their sight, voice, hearing and fiery power. Trees became dependent on the wind for hearing and speech, on water for sight, on fire for vengeance and on earth for food. These were terrible times and chaos reigned. Only Hanuman, the monkey-god of wind, roaming the skies in search of Orion, could unravel the mysteries behind this never-before-seen chaos and perhaps restore balance in heaven and on earth.
To read the poem “The trees of Krakow / Ode to the trees”
Un ascet se plimba pe poteca sa favorită, de pe muntele unde își află locuința, meditând la condiția umană. Dintr-o dată se înfățișă din cer, în fața să, Orion, care în periplul său furtunos printre stele, în carul furat de la Phaethon, îl zărise pe ascet și decisese să coboare la el, pentru a-i vorbi. Ascetul îl cunoștea demult pe Orion, pe alți titani și zei ai cerurilor, dar cu toate acestea, singura lui comunicare directă cu divinitățile, de până atunci, fusese numai cu Saturn. Orion, deci, se înfățișă în fața ascetului, incredibil de înalt, puternic, arzând de focul pasiunilor care îl mistuiau, și tunând, în vorbi:
„Ascetule, am a-ți încredința o misiune.“
„Ce poruncești, stăpâne?“, întrebă acesta.
„Există un om pe pământ, numit Paris. Îmbrobodit de vorbele lui Venus și de iluzia unei iubite din depărtări, va declanșa un război grozav, care va distruge multe vieți. Eu te trimit pe ține să îl ucizi pe Paris, pentru ca acesta să nu producă tragedia nedorită.“ Așa îi vorbi Orion ascetului, apoi se urcă în carul de foc și se înalță din nou la ceruri.
Bietul ascet se afla acum în fața unei dileme. Nu ucisese în viața lui, nici măcar un gând în acest sens nu îi trecuse prin minte. De fiecare dată când Saturn îi încredința o misiune era pentru salvarea unor vieți, iar nu pentru curmarea lor. Pe de altă parte, argumentul lui Orion avea mare însemnătate – dacă acest Paris nu murea, multe vieți ar fi fost distruse. Și mai apoi, Orion era o divinitate, iar unui ascet nu îi era permis să se împotrivească voinței unor zei sau titani, altfel ascetul însuși ar fi fost distrus.
Neștiind ce să facă, ascetul se duse într-o peșteră, și trezi zile și trei nopți nu mâncă, nu vorbi, nu bău nimic, meditând mereu la această problemă. Întunericul, foamea, setea demult nu îl mai chinuiau, căci ascetul obișnuia deseori să se retragă în acest fel, în peșteri, înaintea luării unei decizii importante.
După cele trei zile, decizia era luată. Nu îl putea ucide pe acel Paris. Nu îl cunoștea, nu știa dacă omul acela era bun sau rău, iar cel mai important lucru, Paris nu comisese încă nimic, deci nu putea fi judecat pentru o fapta pe care încă nu o săvârșise. Dar această decizie nu alunga problema rămasă, anume că poruncile venite din cer nu se încalcă. Ascetul luase asupra lui oricare pedeapsă avea să urmeze neascultarea să. Saturn era judecătorul suprem, poate acesta urma să îl înțeleagă, să îi dea dreptate și ascetul nu va fi pedepsit.
Povestea lui Paris o știm cu toțîi. Războiul s-a petrecut până la urmă, așa cum prezisese Orion. Atotștiutorul Saturn aflase deja totul, iar judecata sa aspră se pogorî asupra ascetului. Ascetul, în pofida faptului că Orion era la momentul acela un răzvrătit în cer, nu avea dreptul să îi sfideze porunca, pentru că pe pământ Orion era cel mai puternic dintre toți și stăpân. Saturn decise să îi șteargă amintirile ascetului, să îl trimită printre oameni, unde acesta avea să aibă o viață extrem de prolifică, să fie un medic celebru, care spre sfârșitul vieții să își dorească nemurirea, iar atunci să fie vizitat de un djin, pe nume Mefisto, care să îl ia pe Faust, fostul ascet, într-o călătorie infinită în timp și spațiu, de-a lungul căreia Faust să se simtă din ce în ce mai gol pe dinautru, până când nu va mai rămâne decât o scoică fără viață, dar care continuă să trăiască pentru totdeauna.
Tocmai atunci când Saturn aruncă pedeapsa asupra lui Faust, copacii din Cracovia se răzvrătiră împotriva aceste decizii pe care ei au judecat-o ca fiind crudă. Copacii erau avatarurile zeilor pe pământ și executau judecățile zeilor, fie ele crude sau blânde. Ca urmare, Saturn le luă văzul, vocea, auzul și puterire arzătoare. Copacii deveniră dependenți de vânt pentru auz și vorbit, de apă pentru văz, de foc pentru răzbunare și de pământ pentru hrană. Erau timpuri teribile și haosul domnea. Numai Hanuman, zeul-maimuță al vântului, cutreierând cerurile în căutarea lui Orion, putea dezlega misterele din spatele acestui haos nemaiîntâlnit până atunci și, poate, avea să readucă echilibrul în cer și pe pământ.
A se vedea poezia “Copacii din Cracovia / Odă Copacilor”.
Tall and strong are the trees of Kraków. They stand before the people to rule in silence. And the wind whispers through their leaves. The wind is their voice. And the water flows through their hardened roots. The water is their eyes, to see what the light reflects in her. And the fire burns their branches. The fire spreads their rage, when the people tend to forget. So are the trees of Kraków kings over the people. The earth feeds them, so are they grateful, too. For the trees once ate people, Had eyes to see, mouths to voice, and arms to carry their vengeance. Whatever happened long ago to the trees of Kraków it is long gone and in the past. With pride, they rule. With the wind, they speak. With the water, they see. With the fire, they burn. And in owe stand the people before the trees of Kraków, their almighty, rightful masters, who will forever crush and protect those who stand before them.
He is still, Deep inside his dark abyss. He is mourning, like the water spring in the morning, longing for her mountain. She is flowing, The dawn is her friend, and she is falling in a cascade, as He, the Mountain, sets her free. They are one, yet so distinct. Walter and the Water. They shall never meet. One is her hero, The other is his illusory lover. They flow together into the abyss, Yet they never meet. Oh, Mountain, bring them together, Let them meet! They do not yet know each other. The Hero and the Lover, Walter and the Water.
Die Sonne erwachte mit einer Neugierde, die unheimlich war. Sie wollte wissen, was der Mond als nächstes über die menschliche Schwäche enthüllen würde.
Anstatt am Himmel zu erscheinen, beschloss die Sonne, seinem Sohn Phaethon seinen Wagen zu geben, obwohl sie wenig Vertrauen in die Fähigkeiten ihres Sohnes hatte, ihn richtig zu steuern. Dann ging sie direkt zu Moon, der sich gerade bettfertig machte. Sie fragte ihn besorgt, wie es dem menschlichen Schwächling gehe, und bat ihn, die Geschichten fortzusetzen, die er am Abend zuvor begonnen hatte. Der Mond willigte ein.
“Ich werde dir von einem anderen Mädchen erzählen, diesmal nicht so schön wie die, von denen ich dir gestern erzählt habe, aber genauso jung.”
“Ich höre zu”, antwortete die Sonne fasziniert.
“Die betreffende junge Dame hatte einen unbestimmten Namen. Es bedeutet <<Nacht>> in einer alten Sprache. Und du weißt sehr gut, dass die Nacht meine alte Freundin ist. Das ist wirklich es, was alles gerade mit Freundschaft zu tun hat”.
“Einen Moment”, unterbrach die Sonne, “aber welcher Name ist das? Und was für eine besondere Bedeutung!”
“Der Name ist jetzt nicht wichtig. Aber weißt du, dass er auch mit Wein zu tun hat, in der gleichen alten Sprache. Der Gott des Weines, Dionysos, konnte dieses Mädchen nicht leiden. Und das aus gutem Grund. Wir wissen aber nicht, warum, kein Mann liebte diese junge Frau. Sie hingegen, die noch so jung war und am Anfang ihres Lebens stand, war immer auf der Suche nach einem Lebenspartner. Da es ihr schwer fiel, den Auserwählten zu finden, verlor sie sich in sinnlosen Affären, die ihr mehr Schmerz und Ärger einbrachten als das, was sie wirklich suchte – Liebe.”
“Eines Tages erfährt sie, dass eine Bekannte ihren Liebhaber verlassen hat und gleich darauf mit einem anderen zusammen ist. In diesem Moment beschloss sie, wie das Mädchen, von dem ich dir gestern erzählt habe, alle Verbindungen zu dieser Bekanntschaft abzubrechen, ohne ein Wort.”
“Gut…”, sagte die Sonne überrascht. “Und was hat diese Geschichte, die mit Verlaub gesagt, aber nichtssagend ist, mit Schwäche zu tun?”
“Dieses Mädchen kannte die Wahrheit nicht und wollte sie auch nicht herausfinden. Da sie besonders oberflächlich war, versteckte sie sich in ihren Liebesaffären und versuchte zu vergessen, was sie gehört hatte, ohne zu merken, dass sie in Wirklichkeit vor sich selbst davonlief. Weglaufen, Angst vor der Wahrheit, Unwissenheit, all das ist Teil der menschlichen Schwäche”, sagte der Mond, beendete ihre Geschichte und ging schließlich zu schlafen.
About Night and Weakness
The sun awoke with a curiosity that was uncanny. He wanted to know what the Moon would reveal next about human weakness.
Instead of appearing in the sky, the Sun decided to give his son, Phaethon, his chariot, although he had little confidence that his son could handle it properly. Then he went straight to the Moon, who was just getting ready for bed. He asked her curiously about the human weakness, begging her to continue the stories she had begun the night before. The Moon consented.
“I’ll tell you about another girl, this time, not as beautiful as the ones I told you about yesterday, but just as young.”
“I’m listening,” replied the Sun, intrigued.
“The young lady in question had a desultory name. It means <<night>> in an old language. And you know very well that the Night is my dear friend. And it is friendship that this is all about.”
“Just a moment,” interrupted the Sun, “but what name is that? And what a special meaning!”
“The name is not important now. But know that it also has to do with wine, in the same old language. Just that the god of wine, Dionysus, could not suffer this girl. And for good reason. Moreover, we cannot know why, but no man loved this young woman. She, on the other hand, being so young and at the beginning of her life, was always looking for a life partner. Finding it hard to find her chosen one, she lost herself in meaningless affairs, which brought her more pain and trouble than what she really was looking for – love.”
“One day she learned that an acquaintance of hers had left her lover and immediately afterwards had hooked up with another. At that moment she decided, like the girl I told you about yesterday, to break all ties with this acquaintance, without a word.”
“Good…” said the Sun with much surprise. “And how is this story, begging your pardon, but meaningless, connected with weakness?”
“This girl did not know the truth, nor did she care to find out. Being particularly shallow, she hid in her love affairs, trying to forget what she had heard, not realizing that, in reality, she was running away from herself. Running away, fear of the truth, ignorance, all these are part of human weakness,” the Moon said, ending her story, and then she finally went to bed.
English translation below.
An einem Nachmittag im Mai, als die Sonne am Horizont stand und sich zum Schlafengehen bereit machte, dachte sie, dass sie vor dem Schlafengehen mit ihrer Bruder, dem Mond, über die Ereignisse des Vortages sprechen würde.
Er hatte von Hyperion (dem Morgenstern) erfahren, dass es irgendwo auf der Erde einen Streit zwischen einigen Menschen gegeben hatte, und da der Konflikt groß war, hatten einige sogar ihr Leben verloren.
Die Sonne verstand weder die Ursache des Konflikts noch die scheinbar absurden Folgen. Also ging er zum Mond, der gerade aufgewacht war und seine morgendliche Etikette ablegte.
“Was hältst du von dieser Geschichte, die Hyperion uns neulich erzählt hat?”, fragte die Sonne den Mond.
“Ich für meinen Teil verstehe nicht wirklich, worüber diese Leute gestritten haben…”, antwortete er, aufrichtig daran interessiert, das Gespräch fortzusetzen.
“Ich glaube, es hat etwas mit Liebe zu tun. Wie Isolde und Tristan oder Romeo und Julia”, vermutete die Sonne.
“Ja … das könnte sein. Aber ich habe von Hyperion verstanden, dass es auch etwas mit menschlicher Schwäche zu tun hat.”
“Wie das?”, fragte die Sonne.
Der Mond erzählte ihr weitere Geschichten, die er vom Morgenstern gehört hatte und die offenbar die schwache Natur des Menschen offenbarten.
Er begann damit, dass er der Sonne von einer schönen jungen Frau erzählte, die zunächst von einem sogenannte Dr. Faust und später von Narziss selbst verlassen wurde, die aber trotz ihres jungen Alters die Kraft hatte, ihren eigenen Weg zu gehen, ohne den beiden Männern gegenüber nachtragend zu sein.
“Und hier scheint die Stärke des Mannes”, fügt der Mond hinzu.
Dann folgten über mehrere Tage hinweg eine Reihe von Geschichten, die das Gegenteil der ersten beleuchteten, nämlich wie ein Mann sich in Zeiten der Not als schwach erweisen kann.
Der Mond erzählte der Sonne von einem anderen jungen Mädchen, das genauso hübsch war wie das vorherige, das in der Vergangenheit unter falschen Freunden gelitten hatte. Diese Freunde hatten sie ohne ein Wort vor einer gemeinsamen Reise verlassen, weil die junge Frau eine Liebesaffäre mit einem Jungen hatte.
Das Mädchen hatte den Vorfall damals einer Freundin erzählt. Kurze Zeit später erlebte die Freundin eine ähnliche Geschichte. Anstatt für sie da zu sein, offen mit ihr zu reden oder sie zu fragen, wie es wirklich war, ließ das Mädchen seine Freundin wortlos im Stich, so wie sie es zuvor getan hatte.
“Und wie zeigt sich die Schwäche dieses Mädchens in der Geschichte?” fragte die Sonne.
Der weise Mond antwortete: “Indem sie die Lektion, die ihr das Leben in der Vergangenheit erteilt hat, nicht gelernt hat, und dann nicht den Mut und die Kraft hatte, ihrer Freundin in der Zeit der Not beizustehen.”
“Hmm… ich verstehe immer noch nicht die ganze Sache mit der Schwäche. Und vor allem, was hat das mit der Galle zu tun, von der Hyperion uns erzählt hat?”, sagte die Sonne.
“Sei geduldig, meine Liebe, denn ich werde es dir sagen. Aber bei all dem Gerede ist es schon Zeit für dich, ins Bett zu gehen, und ich werde gleich für die Menschen leuchten”, antwortete der Mond lieblich.
The Moon and the Sun. On Love and Weakness.
One afternoon in May, the Sun was sitting on the horizon and, getting ready for bed, he thought that, before going to sleep, he would talk to his sister, the Moon, about what had happened the day before.
He had learned from Hyperion (the Morning Star) that somewhere on Earth there had been a quarrel between some people, and the conflict being great, some had even lost their lives.
The Sun did not understand either the cause of the conflict or the apparently absurd consequences. So he went to the Moon, which had just woken up and was doing her morning etiquette.
“What do you think of this story Hyperion told us about the other day?” asked the Sun to the Moon.
“I, for one, don’t really understand what those people were arguing about…” she replied, genuinely interested in continuing the conversation.
“I think it has something to do with love. Like Isolde and Tristan or Romeo and Juliet,” the Sun guessed.
“Yeah…it could be. But I understood from Hyperion that there would also be something about human weakness.”
“How so?” the Sun asked.
The Moon told him other stories she had heard from the Morning Star, which apparently revealed the weak nature of man.
She began by telling the Sun about a beautiful young woman, first deserted by a certain Dr. Faust, and later by Narcissus himself, but who had the strength, despite her young age, to go her own way, without resentment towards either man.
“And here you see the strength of the man,” the Moon adds.
Then followed, over several days, a series of stories that highlighted the opposite of the first, namely, how a man can prove weak in times of hardship.
The Moon told the Sun about another young girl, just as pretty as the one before, who had suffered in the past from false friends. Those friends, without a word, had abandoned her before a trip they were to make together, because of a love affair between the young woman and a boy.
At the time, the girl had painfully recounted the incident to a friend. Shortly afterwards, the friend went through a similar story.
Instead of being there for her, talking to her openly or asking her how things really were, the girl chose to abandon her friend without a word, just as she had done before.
“And how does the weakness of this girl in the story reveal itself?” asked the Sun.
The wise Moon replied, “By not learning the lesson life had taught her in the past, and then by not having the courage and strength to stand by her friend in her time of need.”
“Hmm…I still don’t get the whole weakness thing. And, more importantly, what does that have to do with the gall Hyperion told us about?” said the Sun.
“Patience, my dear, for I will tell you. But with all this chatter it is already time for you to go to bed, and I am about to shine for the people,” replied the Moon sweetly.
Finding Neuron 