Posts Tagged ‘guilt’

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ΤΕΡΨΕΙΣ ΤΟΥ ΑΠΟΓΕΥΜΑΤΟΣ

Ή μάλλον για να `μαι πιο συγκεκριμένος όλα ξεκίνησαν απ’
αυτό το ρολόι, ένα ρολόϊ ηλίθιο και φαλακρό, εγώ τί έφταιξα —
απλώς καθόμουν τ’ απογεύματα ήσυχος στον καναπέ κι έτρωγα
τις θείες μου σε νεαρή ηλικία, αλλά μιά μιά, για να μη φανεί απότομα
η γύμνια του τοίχου ή μια φορά στο δρόμο έφτυσα αίμα, τόσο η
πόλη ήταν ακαλαίσθητη
και μόνον η έλλειψη κάθε ενδιαφέροντος για τους άλλους είναι
που έδωσε στη ζωή μας αυτό το ατέλειωτο βάθος

 

AFTERNOON DELIGHTS

Or perhaps to be more accurate it all started by
this clock a stupid bald headed clock, it wasn’t my fault —
every afternoon I simply sat quietly on the sofa and ate my
young unties, however but one by one so that the emptiness
of the wall wouldn’t show or another time in the street I spat
blood so much the city was inelegant
that only the lack of interest for others gave our lives
this endless depth.

 

~Τάσου Λειβαδίτη-Εκλεγμένα Ποιήματα/Μετάφραση Μανώλη Αλυγιζάκη

~Tasos Livaditis-Selected Poems/Translated by Manolis Aligizakis

www.libroslibertad.com

www.manolisaligizakis.com

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Posted on January 17, 2015

In Shakespeare’s Macbeth, the pangs of a guilty conscience drive Lady Macbeth to madness. Her doctor remarks that medicine cannot cure a sense of guilt. “More needs she the divine than the physician.” Guilt overwhelms Lady Macbeth until she finally commits suicide at the end of the play.
Considering the powerful influence that guilt can have over a person, it is important to explore the origin and nature of this emotion in order to possibly gain some control over it. In this video, we will discuss Nietzsche’s theory concerning the origin of guilt, and we will also explain what it indicates for the future of mankind.
To feel guilty means to feel painful regret for some wrong committed. According to Nietzsche, the concepts of right and wrong arose with the development of societies. He describes guilt as a disease that humanity caught when it formed these social communities. “I look on bad conscience as a serious illness to which man was forced to succumb by the pressure of the change whereby he finally found himself imprisoned within the confines of society and peace.”
When man left the lawless wilderness and entered into societies, he entered into an entirely new world where his old instincts were worthless. Nietzsche compares this radical change experienced by man to the change experienced by the first sea animals to venture onto land. “It must have been no different for man, happily adapted to the wilderness, war, the wandering life and adventure than it was for the sea animals when they were forced to either become land animals or perish – at one go, all instincts were devalued and ‘suspended’. The poor things were reduced to relying on thinking, inference, calculation, and the connecting of cause with effect, that is, to relying on their mind, that most impoverished and error-prone organ!”
Man’s wild instincts, however, did not fade away. Instead, he was forced to turn his instincts for cruelty inwards because the new laws of societies prohibited violence. “Those terrible bulwarks with which state organizations protected themselves against the old instincts of freedom had the result that all those instincts of the wild, free, roving man were turned backwards, against man himself. Animosity, cruelty, the pleasure of pursuing, raiding, changing and destroying – all this was pitted against the person who had such instincts.”
After diverting his cruel instincts towards himself, man began to grow sick of existence. Nietzsche refers to this sentiment as the worst and most insidious illness ever to afflict man, and an illness from which man has yet to recover. “Lacking external enemies and obstacles, and forced into the oppressive narrowness and conformity of custom, man impatiently ripped himself apart, persecuted himself, gnawed at himself, gave himself no peace and abused himself, this animal who battered himself raw on the bars of his cage and who is supposed to be ‘tamed’; man, full of emptiness and torn apart with homesickness for the desert, has had to create within himself an adventure, a torture-chamber, an unsafe and hazardous wilderness – this fool, this prisoner consumed with longing and despair, became the inventor of ‘bad conscience’.”
Despite the dismal diagnosis of civilized man’s illness, Nietzsche regarded the disease of guilt, like all other afflictions in life, to be an opportunity to enhance human excellence. To him, mankind’s ability to turn against itself is indicative of man’s potential to achieve something great in the future – to achieve the meaning of the earth – to achieve the birth of the Ubermensch. “The prospect of an animal soul turning against itself was something so new, profound, puzzling, contradictory and momentous that the whole character of the world changed in an essential way. Man arouses interest, tension, hope, almost certainty for himself, as though something were being announced through him, were being prepared, as though man were not an end but just a path, an episode, a bridge, a great promise.”
To conclude, Nietzsche asserts that a guilty conscience developed when mankind formed societies and established laws. These social institutions forced man to turn his cruel and wild instincts inwards against himself. When man finally overcomes his bad conscience – which is nothing more than contempt for life – he will be one step closer to giving birth to the Ubermensch.
http://www.orwell.wordpress.com

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Seasons 2

III

Because you couldn’t decide to leave
because you didn’t feel guilty for any bitterness
because of some tears still fresh
for your old disease you don’t count on
stooped with no lamp over the night again
under the dead roofs of the city
longing for a dawn they had promised you
you’ve travelled for years yearning for a letter
-your viscera full of sins, the guilt-
a morbid extinguished date
no one met me like the past anymore
(nor anyone really longed for dawn)
the way I stayed too that night
foreign and forgotten by everybody
alone only with your company
-with you, being away for so long-
a real stranger in this old café
the way I was alone one night
in this old café
for the whole night in the sleepy café
for one night, in the dirty harbour of Pireus

~Manolis Anagnostakis, Seasons 2, 1948

Εποχές 2

III
Έτσι όπως πια δεν το αποφάσιζες να φύγεις
Για κάθε πίκρα σου μη νιώθοντας οδύνη
Για κάποια δάκρυα που δε στέγνωσαν ακόμα
Για μιαν αρρώστια σου παλιά μη λογαριάζεις
Σκυμμένος πάλι μες στη νύχτα χωρίς λάμπα
Κάτω απ’ τις στέγες τις νεκρές της πολιτείας
Προσμένοντας μια Αυγή που σου ’χαν τάξει
Χρόνια ταξίδεψες διψώντας κάποιο γράμμα
-Μέσα σου πλήθος τ’ αμαρτήματα, τις τύψεις-
Με μια σβησμένη νοσηρή χρονολογία
Κι ούτε κανείς πια δε μ’ αντάμωσε σαν πρώτα
(Ούτε κανείς, αλήθεια, πρόσμενε να φέξει)
Έτσι όπως έμεινα κι εγώ τότε μια νύχτα
Ξένος ολότελα κι απ’ όλους ξεχασμένος
Με τη δική σου μοναχά τη συντροφιά
-Με σένα τόσα χρόνια μακριά μου-
Ξένος πολύ μέσα σε τούτο το παλιό το καφενείο
Έτσι όπως έμεινα μονάχος κάποια νύχτα
Μέσα σε τούτο το παλιό το καφενείο
Στο νυσταγμένο καφενείο όλη τη νύχτα
Στου Πειραιά, νύχτα, το βρώμικο λιμάνι
~Manolis Anagnostakis, Seasons 2, 1948

images of absence cover

CONFESSION

My confession was simple:
father, I said, I’m a sinner
the guilt of the universe sits
heavy on my chest
forgive me that I passionately loved
the bloomed hyacinth and
the flight swings of swallows
and my two greatest sins
my unmeasured love
for the laughter of the child
and the beggars who stood
with their extended hands
filled with good wishes

my confession was simple

straight to the Purgatory
the priest delivered his opinion

ΕΞΟΜΟΛΟΓΗΣΗ

Η εξομολόγησή μου ήταν απλή:
πάτερ, είπα, είμαι αμαρτωλός
η ενοχή όλης της Οικουμένης
βαραίνει πάνω στο στήθος μου
συγχώρεσέ με με πάθος
που αγάπησα το πέταγμα χελιδονιού
και τ’ ανθισμένο γιακίνθι
κι οι δυο χερότερές μου αμαρτίες
η υπερβολική μου αγάπη
για το γελάκι του παιδιού
και για του επαίτη τ’ απλωμένο χέρι
το γιομάτο καλοσύνης ευχές

η εξομολόγησή μου ήταν απλή

κατ’ ευθείαν στην Κόλαση
γνωμάτευσε ο ιερωμένος

~Images of Absence, Ekstasis Editions, Victoria, Canada, 2015

Cloe and Alexandra_cover_aug265

Ενοχή (της Χλόης Κουτσουμπέλη)

Ένοχη, το ομολογώ.

Tο τελευταίο ποίημα το έγραψα για σένα.
Ελαφρυντικά μου η βροχή,
τα ατέλειωτα τσιγάρα, το αλκοόλ
ίσως και το κορμί σου
ως ανάμνηση αυτού που δεν υπήρξε.
Στην πραγματικότητα έγραφα για τα άλλα
για εκείνη την ιστορία με τον Κήπο,
για το ότι δεν τόλμησες
δεν έμαθες
δεν ρώτησες.
Κι έτσι χθες βράδυ, το ομολογώ
για σένα έγραψα έναν στίχο
γυμνό και λυπημένο
σ’ αυτό το μουτζουρωμένο πάντα ημιτελές

ποίημα της ζωήςμου.

Guilt (By Cloe Koutsoubelis)

I’m guilty, I confess.

The last poem I wrote for you.

Mitigating circumstances: the rain

the endless cigarettes, alcohol

perhaps even your body

as memory of what never happened.

In reality I wrote about some other things

for that story in the Garden,

that you never took the courage

you never learned

you never asked.

And last night, I confess

I wrote a verse for you

sorrowful and naked

in this smudgy always half finished

poem of my life.

 

 

 

ΤΟ ΤΕΛΕΥΤΑΙΟ ΡΟΥΧΟ (της Αλεξάνδρας Μπακονίκα)

Από καιρό την πολιορκούσε
κι όταν τη βρήκε στην αμμουδιά,
ανάμεσα σε γνωστούς και φίλους
άπλωσε την πετσέτα δίπλα της,
κι όπως ξάπλωναν κοντά, την άγγιξε.
Στάθηκε τυχερός με την άμεση
ανταπόκρισή της: Σηκώθηκε και τον οδήγησε
στο απόκρυφο ακρογιάλι.
Σταμάτησαν απόμερα,
και με την πείρα της στους άνδρες
γνώριζε την έξαψη που προκαλούσε ολόγυμνη,
πέταξε και το τελευταίο ρούχο από πάνω της
και μπαινόβγαινε στο νερό.
Μπαινόβγαινε πολλές φορές
κι επιδειχτικά, σαν να του έλεγε:
«Θα πεθάνεις από λατρεία για μένα».

 

THE LAST GARMENT (by Alexandra Bakonika)

For a long time he had courted her
and when he found her on the beach
among acquaintances and friends,
he spread his towel beside her,
and as they lay very close, he touched her.
He got lucky
and was somehow surprised
by her immediate response:
she stood up and led him
to a secluded beach.
Remote, they stopped
and from experience gained from former
love affairs
she knew the heat
she caused when stark naked.
She threw off the final piece of her garments
and started going in and out of the water.
She got in and out many times
and flamboyantly
as if to tell him:
“ Die wanting me.”

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Μυστική Πύλη

Φτερούγες σάλευαν κάτω απ’ τά έπιπλα, καί στό βάθος

ο σκοτεινός καθρέφτης έκανε τά παιδιά ν’ αρρωσταίνουν συχνά,

γιατί δέν ήθελαν νά μεγαλώσουν,

η μητέρα έκλαιγε καί μέ παρακαλούσε νά κατέβω, μά εμένα

ήταν η μοίρα μου νά περπατάω στό ταβάνι, μιά μάχη δική μου,

μητέρα, όπου πάντα ο νεκρός ήμουν εγώ.

Γι’ αυτό ήξερα καί τών ουρανών τή μυστική υπόγεια πύλη.

 

Secret Gate

Wings stirred under the furniture and at the end of the hall

the dark mirror made the children often sick, because they

didn’t want to grow up,

mother cried and beg me to come down, but my fate was

to walk on the ceiling, my own battle, mother, where I was

the only dead.

For this I knew the subterranean secret gate of the skies.

Δημιουργία

Καθόταν έξω στά χωράφια καί σχεδίαζε πάνω στό χώμα

πουλιά. Μά τά πουλιά ζητούσαν ουρανό. Τότε σχεδίασε

γύρω τους τήν αιώνεια θλίψη.

Καί τά πουλιά πέταξαν.

Creation

He would sit out in the fields and draw birds

on the soil. But the birds yearned for the sky. Then

all around them he drew the infinite sorrow.

And the birds flew away.

Νύχτα

Μιά πόρτα τή νύχτα πού τή βλέπουν μόνο οι τυφλοί,

τό σκοτάδι κάνει τά ζώα ν’ ακούνε μακρύτερα,

κι εκείνος τρίκλιζε, όχι απ’ τό πιοτό,

μ’ απ’ τήν απελπισμένη κίνηση ν’ ανέβει

στόν πύργο, πού χάσαμε κάποτε.

 

 

Night

There is a door in the night that only the blind see,

darkness makes the animals hear better,

and him, staggered, not from being drunk

but from his futile effort to climb

up to the tower, we once had lost.

Ενοχή

Τί ζητούσαν, λοιπόν, σέ τί είχα φταίξει, εμένα

τό μόνο μου έγκλημα ήταν ότι μπόρεσα νά μεγαλώσω

κυνηγημένος πάντα, πού νά βρείς καιρό, έτσι έμεινα

εύπιστος κι αγκάλιαζα τό κρύο σίδερο τής γέφυρας.

Ενώ απ’ τό βάθος, μακριά, μέ κοίταζε σάν ξένο

η πιό δική μου ζωή.

Guilt

Then, what they searched for, what was I guilty of, I, who’s

only crime was that I grew up; always chased,

where could one find time, for this I stayed gullible and

I always hugged the cold railing of the bridge.

While at the far end, far away, my true life stared at me

as though seeing a stranger.

~Τάσος Λειβαδίτης, ‘Διασπορά’

~Tasos Livaditis, ‘Diaspora’

~Translation Manolis Aligizakis

Traitor

Posted: October 3, 2011 by vequinox in Books, Canada, Greek Canadian Writers, Literature, Poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

He stood in the mirror

didn’t dare breath of our air

concerned a bit of his guilt

happy that he stole our joy

totally surprised he was

for the attention we paid

to him, and he knew it

that one day we would find out

he knew all too well, yet

he stood alone in the mirror

like the divisive archangel

his mind run to the borders

where the enemy waited

to learn all the other secrets

all our other sweet secrets