Ikkyu

Link

Ikkyu and the Crazy Cloud Anthology: A Zen Poet of Medieval
Japan (Unesco Collection of Representative Works. Japanese Series)

Crow With No Mouth : Ikkyu : Fifteenth Century Zen Master (Paperback)
“Only one koan matters,” Ikkyu writes, “you” (p. 67). “Believe in the man facing you now” (p. 21). While meditating on a boat when he was 27, Ikkyu Sojun–also known as “Crazy Cloud” (1394-1482), was enlightened when he heard a crow call (p. 9). As a Zen Master, he was considered sort of an eccentric rake (p. 13), and he never pretended to be much else. He loved sake. He loved women. “The crow’s caw was ok,” he writes (p. 58), but “a woman is enlightenment” (p. 64). Ikkyu scandalized his Zen community, and his poetry will offend many readers today as well. “Look me up if you want to,” he writes, “in the bar whorehouse fish market” (p. 40).
These poems are “frank, naked, sincere” (p. 15), and full of vivid imagery of “erotic renewal” (p. 13). It’s enough to say for purposes of this review, Ikkyu lives “in a shack on the edge of whorehouse row” (p. 40). These are the poems of a poet who is “all there” (p. 15), and fully present on his “long pure beautiful road of pain/ and the beauty of death and no pain” (p. 24), whether he is watching his four-year-old daughter dance–”I can’t break free of her” (p. 60), watching the “snow moon tangled among black flowers” (p. 39), or “shuttling between whorehouse and bar” (p. 47). Question “flattery success money,” he writes (p. 22). “This city these people where I live still are impossible” (p. 30). “Sing until you have no throat then words come by themselves” (p. 55).

I’m not qualified to comment on Stephen Berg’s translation of Ikkyu’s poems, but I can tell you this book is certainly something to crow about!

G. Merritt

Ikkyu wrote his verses in a four line form which has been reworked into couplets by Stephen Berg. It is important to remember that these are version by Stephen Berg not careful translations from the original – as reworkings often are the most accessible translations.
Ikkyu was not a typical Zen master – the monkish disciplines of celebacy and sobriety were not in his repetoire. While this makes him an oddity, it reinforces the ideal that one who is enlightened is one who is free. This freedom (often seen as indifference or non-clinging) is voiced in this poem “Ikkyu this body isn’t yours I say to myself / wherever I am I’m there”. His freedom from the disciplines is shown in poems that are explicitly sexual not merely erotic. A very tame example: “don’t hesitate get laid thaat’s wisdom / sitting around chanting what crap”.

Ikkyu is definately a poet that students or would-be students of Zen should read … in fact, we all should read it for the sheer fun and beauty of it.

Share

la Biblioteca Alessandrina

De Bibliotheca nasce come spettacolo didattico itinerante, pensato per accompagnare un pubblico di utenti, visitatori e curiosi all’interno delle biblioteche, luoghi “venerandi”, ma anche “a misura d’uomo”, avventurosi, divertenti e, soprattutto, patrimonio di tutti. Il testo, da integrare di volta in volta con informazioni e dati sulla specifica biblioteca che si va a scoprire, è tratto dalla conferenza “De Bibliotheca” pronunciata da Umberto Eco il 10 marzo 1981 in occasione delle celebrazioni dei 25 anni di attività della Biblioteca Comunale di Milano presso Palazzo Sormani.

L’ebook di tale conferenza è disponibile gratuitamente su Liber Liber, http://www.liberliber.it/, grazie alla cortesia dell’Autore, della Biblioteca Comunale di Milano presso Palazzo Sormani e della casa editrice Bompiani.

Il video è un’idea di Donatella Allegro, che ne ha curato anche la regia. Fotografia di Christian Caiumi, editing video Giulia Rocco. L’interprete è Giuseppe Montemarano. Distribuzione “Progetto Teatro” di Liber Liber.

Questa versione video è stata girata presso la Biblioteca Italiana delle Donne di Bologna (http://www.women.it/bibliotecadelledonne/), dove il progetto ha trovato ospitalità e sostegno grazie alla cortesia della direttrice Dott.ssa Annamaria Tagliavini. Oltre a lei si ringraziano le bibliotecarie Giovanna Diambri, Giancarla Melis, Davide Montemarano, Maria Teresa Munaro e Roberta Ricci.

I protagonisti

Giuseppe Montemarano, bolognese, si forma come attore con la Compagnia del Teatro dell’Argine. È membro dell’Associazione Culturale del Fiordaliso, con sede a Casalecchio di Reno (BO), con la quale realizza spettacoli in italiano e in francese.

Donatella Allegro si laurea in Lettere presso l’università di Bologna e ottiene il diploma di in recitazione presso l’Accademia Nazionale di Arte Drammatica “Silvio D’Amico”. Come attrice ha lavorato, tra gli altri, con Lorenzo Salveti, Cesare Lievi, Claudio Longhi e Mario Perrotta. Come regista ha realizzato: Un piccolo punto del naso — Frammenti di un discorso amoroso (2010), Alcesti — come tenere in vita una famiglia (2011), Questa Musica (2008). Lavora inoltre come insegnante di recitazione ed è tra i fondatori dell’Associazione culturale “Interno 12″, attiva in ambito teatrale sul territorio nazionale.

Musiche: “Mazurka in Si bemolle maggiore. Op. 32″ di Gabriel Urbain Fauré

Continue reading

Share

Salinas y Rocha

Entre las añoranzas de lo perdido tengo el dulce recuerdo de las casas del viejo Monterrey, con sus paredes de sillar y altisimos cielos, y sus puertas disfrazadas de ventanas. El olor a tierra humeda y la sensación de frescor aún en los dias más calientes. Un ejemplo más de como despreciamos la invaluable a cambio de polvo y sangre. Recuerdo el misterio de la construcción de la macroplaza, cuando edificios increibles, hermosos, llenos de historia fueron demolidos para poner una explanada sin sentido o uso alguno. Como se llevaron semanas para derrumbar el edificio de Salinas y Rocha. Primero intentaron con un bola de hierro gigante que apenas y marcaba las paredes y finalmente lo tuvieron que dinamitar no se cuantas veces. Pensaba yo que hiban a poner alguna cosa fantatica, inimaginable en su lugar. Destruir algo tan hermoso y tan bien hecho, cuyos construtores pensaron ilusamente en siglos seguramente seria para construir algo digno de un faraon egipcio. Ya esta muerto pero igual: ¡Chinga tu madre Martinez Dominguez!

Share

Koine Greek

Link

Share

Jorge Francisco Isidoro Luis Borges Acevedo

Jorge Francisco Isidoro Luis Borges Acevedo (24 August 1899 – 14 June 1986), known as Jorge Luis Borges (Spanish pronunciation: [ˈxorxe ˈlwis ˈβorxes]), was an Argentine writer, essayist, poet and translator born in Buenos Aires. In 1914 his family moved to Switzerland where he attended school, receiving his baccalauréat from the Collège de Genève in 1918. The family travelled widely in Europe, including stays in Spain. On his return to Argentina in 1921, Borges began publishing his poems and essays in surrealist literary journals. He also worked as a librarian and public lecturer. In 1955 he was appointed director of the National Public Library (Biblioteca Nacional) and professor of Literature at the University of Buenos Aires. In 1961 he came to international attention when he received the first ever Prix International, sharing the award with Samuel Beckett. In 1971 he won the Jerusalem Prize. His work was translated and published widely in the United States and in Europe. Borges himself was fluent in several languages. Borges had dedicated his final work, Los Conjurados (The Conspirators), to the city of Geneva, Switzerland, and it was there, in 1986, that he chose to die.[2]

His work embraces the “character of unreality in all literature”.[3] His most famous books, Ficciones (1944) and The Aleph (1949), are compilations of short stories interconnected by common themes such as dreams, labyrinths, libraries, animals, fictional writers, religion and God. His works have contributed to the genre of science fiction as well as the genre of magic realism, a genre that reacted against the realism/naturalism of the nineteenth century.[4][5][6] In fact, critic Angel Flores, the first to use the term, set the beginning of this movement with Borges’s Historia universal de la infamia (A Universal History of Infamy) (1935).[7] Scholars also have suggested that Borges’s progressive blindness helped him to create innovative literary symbols through imagination.[8] His late poems dialogue with such cultural figures as Spinoza, Camões, and Virgil.

His international fame was consolidated in the 1960s, aided by the “Latin American Boom” and the success of Gabriel García Márquez‘s Cien Años de Soledad (One Hundred Years of Solitude).[4] Writer and essayist J. M. Coetzee said of him: “He, more than anyone, renovated the language of fiction and thus opened the way to a remarkable generation of Spanish American novelists.”[9]

Share

λάβρυς

Labrys (λάβρυς in Greek, lábrys) is the term for a symmetrical doubleheaded axe originally from Crete in Greece, one of the oldest symbols of Greek civilization; to the Romans, it was known as a bipennis.[1]

The double-bitted axe remains a forestry tool to this day,[2] and the labrys certainly functioned as a tool and hewing axe[3] before it was invested with symbolic function.[4] Labrys symbolism is found in Minoan, Thracian, and Greek religion, mythology, and art, dating from the Middle Bronze Age onwards, and surviving in the Byzantine Empire. The labrys also appears in African religious symbolism and mythology (see Shango).

Today the symbol is controversial in Greece, because of its use by the authoritarian Metaxas Regime which governed the country from 1936-1941

Share

Va pensiero

El último 12 de marzo, Silvio Berlusconi debió enfrentar la realidad. Italia festejaba el 150 aniversario de su unificación, por tal motivo, en esa ocasión se dio en la Ópera de Roma la ópera “Nabucco” de Giuseppe Verdi, dirigida por el maestro Ricardo Muti. “Nabucco” es una obra tanto musical como política: evoca el episodio de la esclavitud de los judíos en Babilonia, y su famoso coro “Va pensiero” es el canto de los esclavos oprimidos. En Italia, este canto es el símbolo de la búsqueda de libertad del pueblo, que a fines del siglo XIX -época en que se escribió la ópera – estaba oprimido por el imperio de los Habsburgo, al que combatió hasta la ceación de la Italia unificada. Antes de la representación de marzo pasado, Gianni Alemanno, alcalde de Roma, subió al escenario para pronunciar un discurso denunciando los recortes al presupuesto de cultura que hizo el gobierno, a pesar de que Alemanno es miembro del partido gobernante y viejo ministro de Berlusconi. Esta intervención política, en un momento cultural de los más simbólicos para Italia, produciría un efecto inesperado, puesto que Berlusconi en persona asistía a la representación.

Relatado luego por el Times, Ricardo Muti, director de la orquesta, contó que fue una verdadera velada de revolución: “Al principio hubo una gran ovación en el público. Luego comenzamos con la ópera. Se desarrolló muy bien hasta que llegamos al famoso canto “Va pensiero”. Inmediatamente sentí que la atmósfera se tensaba en el público. Hay cosas que no se pueden describir, pero uno las siente. Era el silencio del público que se hacía sentir. Pero en el momento en que la gente se dio cuenta que empezaba el “Va Pensiero”, el silencio se llenó de verdadero fervor. Se podía sentir la reacción visceral del público ante el lamento de los esclavos que cantan: “Oh patria mía, tan bella y perdida.”
Cuando el coro llegaba a su fin, ya se oían en el público varios “bis”. El público comenzó a gritar: “¡Viva Italia!”, “¡Viva Verdi!”, “¡Larga vida a Italia!”. La gente en el gallinero comenzó a arrojar papeles con mensajes patrióticos. En una única ocasión Muti había aceptado hacer un bis para el “Va Pensiero”, en la Scala de Milán en 1986, puesto que para él la ópera no debe sufrir interrupciones. “Yo no quería sólo hacer un bis. Tenía que haber una intención especial para hacerlo”, relata. Pero el público ya había despertado su sentimiento patriótico. En un gesto teatral, Muti se dio vuelta y miró al público y a Berlusconi a la vez, y dijo:

“Sí, estoy de acuerdo con esto. ‘Larga vida a Italia’. Pero…
Ya no tengo más 30 años y he vivido mi vida, pero recorrí mucho el mundo, y hoy tengo vergüenza de lo que sucede en mi país. Entonces accedo a vuestro pedido de un bis para el ‘Va Pensiero’, nuevamente. No es sólo por la dicha patriótica que siento, sino porque esta noche, cuando dirigía el Coro que cantó ‘Ay mi patria, tan bella y perdida’, pensé que si seguimos así vamos a matar la cultura sobre la cual se construyó la historia de Italia. En tal caso, nuestra patria estaría en verdad ‘bella y perdida’”.

(Aplausos , incluidos de los artistas en escena)

Continuó: “Ya que reina acá un clima italiano, yo, Muti, me callé la boca muchos años. Quisiera ahora… tendríamos que darle sentido a este canto; estamos en nuestra casa, el teatro de Roma, y con un coro que cantó magníficamente bien y que acompañó espléndidamente la orquesta. Si quieren, les propongo unirse a nosotros para que cantemos todos juntos”.

Entonces invitó al público a cantar con el coro de esclavos: “Vi grupos de gente levantarse. Toda la Ópera de Roma se levantó. Y el Coro también. Fue un momento mágico en la ópera. Esa noche no fue solamente una representación de ‘Nabucco’, sino también una declaración del teatro de la capital para llamar la atención a los políticos.”

Share