24.9.09

Alimento sin más


«Very tired of the modern form of historicism which seen in this civilization the defeat of the best hopes of Western religión and thought, what Heidegger calls the second Fall of Man into the quotidian or ordinary. No philosopher knows what the ordinary is, has no fallen into it deeply enough. The question of ordinary human experience is the principal question of these modern centuries, as Montaigne and Pascal, otherwise in disagreement, both clearly saw ⎯the strength of man’s virtud or spiritual capacity measured by his ordinary life.»

«Estaba harto de la forma moderna de historicismo que considera que nuestra civilización es la derrota de las mejores esperanzas de la religión y el pensamiento occidentales, lo que Heidegger denomina “la segunda caída del hombre en lo cotidiano u ordinario”. Ningún filósofo sabe lo que es ordinario, no ha caído nunca tan bajo. La cuestión de la experiencia humana ordinaria es la principal de estos últimos siglos, como Montaigne y Pascal, que en lo demás no coincidían, comprendieron con claridad. La fuerza de la virtud de un hombre o su capacidad espiritual se miden por su vida ordinaria.»



*Herzog. Saul Bellow, 1964

22.9.09

El dogma absoluto

P. ¿No cree que la Iglesia prefiere a Berlusconi?
R. Desde luego: pucunia non olent, el dinero no huele. Puedes atacar la virginidad de María, ellos te meten en el Index y tú vendes más libros. Pero si les quitas el dinero de los colegios se enfadan. El dogma absoluto de la Iglesia es el dinero, la exención fiscal. Basta con no tocar el dinero del Santo Padre. El Vaticano dicta la ley en Italia, y nunca lo ha hecho tanto como ahora. Pero el Papa disimula como Zapatero: asisten al delirio de Berlusconi en directo y dicen: "No puedo hablar porque soy extranjero".




*Andrea Camilleri. El País, 18.09.2009.
*Le Olimpiadi Culturali della Gioventù (Génova, 10-17.12.1950): Andrea Camilleri (en primer plano). En la mesa, de izquiera a derecha: Oreja de Mario Socrate, Flora Volpini, Alfredo Poggi, Giacomo De Benedetti, Galvano della Volpe y Sibilla Aleramo.

Aleph


© Andrés Navarro. Rio de Janeiro, 2002.

21.9.09

De las traducciones curiosas


Estoy pero me voy

«The wisdom of Sócrates is a philosophical article of faith. It is clear that the Socrates of Plato is an ideal and is therefore poetical, expressing Platonic thoughts, whereas in the Socrates of Xenophon there is not exactly much wisdom to be found. According to Lucian (Philopseudes, 24), Socrates had a fat belly, which is not one of the distinguishing marks of genius. Yet as regards high intellectual abilities, it is just as doubtful with all who have not written, and so too with Pythagoras. A great mind must gradually recognize his vocation and attitude to mankind; consequently, he is bound to become a conscious of belonging not to the flock but to the shepherds, I mean to the educators of the human race. From this, however, it will clearly become his duty not to restrict his immediate and assured influence to the few whom chance brings near to him, but to extend it to humanity, so that it is able to reach the exceptions, the elect and hence the rare ones among the mankind. »

«La sabiduría de Sócrates es un artículo filosófico de fe. Salta a la vista que el Sócrates platónico es un personaje ideal y, por consiguiente, poético, que expresa pensamientos platónicos; por el contrario, en el jenofóntico no se encuentra en verdad mucha sabiduría. Según Luciano (Philopseudes, 24), Sócrates tuvo el vientre abultado, lo cual no corresponde a los distintivos del genio. La misma duda existe, en efecto, acerca de las grandes facultades del espíritu de todos los que no han escrito y, por consiguiente, también de Pitágoras. Un gran genio tiene que conocer gradualmente sus deberes y su posición respecto a la humanidad y, por tanto, adquirir la convicción de que no pertenece al rebaño, sino a los pastores, es decir, a los educadores del género humano; por este medio se le pondrá de manifiesto la obligación de no limitar su inmediato y seguro influjo a los pocos que la causalidad reúne a su alrededor, sino de extenderlo a la humanidad para que pueda alcanzar sus excepciones, a los excelentes y, por tanto, a los más raros.»



*Sócrates [Fragmente zur Geschichte der Philosophie]. Arthur Schopenhauer, 1851.
*Arthur Schopenhauer, Frankfurt, 1859.

20.9.09

Walk away Renee

She said it was just a figment of speech and I said you mean 'figure'. And she said no 'figment' because she could never imagine it happening. But it did. When we first met, I played the shy-boy. When she spoke to me for the first time, my nose began to bleed. She guessed the rest. The next day we went on a bus ride to the ferry, and when nobody came to collect our fares, why I knew then this was something special. I couldn't stop thinking about her and everytime I switched on the radio, there was somebody else singing a song about the two of us. It was just like being on a fast ride at Fun Fair- the sort you want to get off because it's scary and then, as soon as you're off again, you want to get straight back on again. But oh love is strange, and you have to learn to take the crunchy with the smooth I suppose. She began going out with Mr. Potato Head. It was when I saw her in the car park with his coat around her shoulders, I realized. I went home and thought about the two of them together until the bath water went cold around me. I thought about her eyes and the curve of her breasts and about the point where their bodies met. I confronted her about it. I said 'I'm the most illegible bachelor in town. And she said 'Yea, that's why I can never understand any of those silly letters you send me'. And then one day it happened: she cut her hair. And I stopped loving her.


13.9.09

Normalidad

«¿Es normal que todos los reporteros que informan desde el extranjero sean enviados especiales

*Diario de una taxista. Rosario Cisma, 2005.

Un ojo aquí y allá

«Everything’s foreseeable. Everything has already been foreseen. What has been fated cannot be avoided. Even this boiled potato. This fork. This chunk of dark bread. This thought too…
My grandmother sweeping the sidewalk knows that. She says there’s no god, only an eye here and there that sees clearly. The neighbours are too busy watching TV to burn her as a witch.»

«Todo es previsible. Todo ha sido previsto. Lo que ha sido destinado no puede evitarse. Ni siquiera esta patata hervida. Este tenedor. Este trozo de pan negro. Este pensamiento demasiado…
Mi abuela, que barre la acera, lo sabe. Dice que no hay Dios, sólo un ojo aquí y allá que ve con claridad. Los vecinos están demasiado ocupados viento televisión como para quemarla por bruja.»



*The World Doesn't End. Charles Simic, 1989.
*Pasaporte yugoslavo de Charles Simic y su hermano. 18 de junio, 1953.

11.9.09

Provincianismo




«En nuestra época, cuando los hombres parecen más proclives que nunca a confundir sabiduría con conocimiento, y conocimiento con información, y a tratar de resolver problemas vitales en términos de ingeniería, está naciendo un nuevo tipo de provincianismo que acaso merezca un nombre nuevo. Es un provincianismo, no del espacio, sino del tiempo; para el cual la historia es la mera crónica de los dispositivos humanos que, cumplido su servicio, se han desechado; para el cual el mundo es propiedad exclusiva de los vivos, una propiedad sobre la que los muertos no tienen derechos. El peligro de esta clase de provincianismo es que todos, todos los pueblos del globo podamos volvernos provincianos juntos; y que quienes no se conformen con ser provincianos sólo puedan volverse ermitaños.»

*What is a classic? T. S. Eliot, 1944.

10.9.09

Quelque chose sur toi



*Une trop bruyante solitude, d'aprés le roman de Bohumil Hrabal. Lionel Tran, Ambre, Valérie Berge, 2002.

Renoir



*The Diary of a Chambermaid. Jean Renoir, 1946.

Con los escombros

Shadows are falling and I've been here all day. It's too hot to sleep time is running away, feel like my soul has turned into steel. I've still got the scars that the sun didn't healThere's not even room enough to be anywhere. It's not dark yet, but it's getting there. Well my sense of humanity has gone down the drain. Behind every beautiful thing there's been some kind of pain. She wrote me a letter and she wrote it so kind. She put down in writing what was in her mind, I just don't see why I should even care. It's not dark yet, but it's getting there. Well, I've been to London and I've been to gay Paree. I've followed the river and I got to the sea. I've been down on the bottom of a world full of lies. I ain't looking for nothing in anyone's eyes. Sometimes my burden seems more than I can bear. It's not dark yet, but it's getting there. I was born here and I'll die here against my will. I know it looks like I'm moving, but I'm standing still. Every nerve in my body is so vacant and numb I can't even remember what it was I came here to get away from. Don't even hear a murmur of a prayer. It's not dark yet, but it's getting there.

Not Dark Yet by Bob Dylan on Grooveshark

*Not Dark Yet. Bob Dylan, 1997.