I can't find the thread but Mark and gav were discussing Gaia and it rang a bell over a bit I'd just read somewhere, couldn't find it, kept looking and hey, here it was in the Brother's K, something I have started about 10 times but never got close to finishing, but still can't put away because it keeps beckoning with its poetry and prose like this:
Raising up his soul from vileness Reaching for his human worth, Man must enter an alliance With eternal Mother Earth. I read that and just don't get it... I mean, this was written in Russian, a language whose letters are so confusing I can't even keep 'em straight and yet it rhymes and rhythms perfectly in English. What? Is this guys speaking in some sort of cosmic tongues? Continuing: "But what makes it hard for me is that I don't know how I could possibly enter that eternal alliance with Mother Earth. I don't kiss Mother Earth, I don't plow her soil.... Should I then, become a peasant, a shepherd, or what? I go on and on, and I don't know where I'll find myself next--in stench and disgrace or in light and joy. And that's where the main trouble lies: everything in this world is a puzzle. Whenever I've sunk into the deepest shame of depravity--and that has happened to me more often than anything else--I've always recited that poem about the goddess Ceres and man's fate. But has it reformed me? No--Because I'm a Karamozov, because if I must plunge into the abyss, I'll go head first, feet in air. I'll even find a certain pleasure in falling in such a humiliating way. I'll even think that it's a beautiful exit for a man like me. and so, in the very midst of my degradation, I suddenly intone a hymn. Even if I must be damned, even if I am low and despicable, I must still be allowed to kiss the hem of the veil in which my God is shrouded; and even if I may be following the devil's footsteps, I am still Your son, O Lord, and I love You, and feel the joy without which the world cannot be. Joy eternal pours its fires In the soul of God's creation, And its sparkle then inspires Life's mysterious fermentation. Joy fills with light the plant's green faces, Regulates the planets' runs, Fills immeasurable spaces With innumerable suns. All things drink with great elation Mother Nature's milk of joy, Plant and beast and man and nation Sweetness of her breast enjoy. To man prostrated in the dust, Joy brings friends and cheering wine; Gives the insects sensual lust, Angels--happiness divine. ---- "Insects sensual lust"? Eat your heart out, Wordsworth. John Moq_Discuss mailing list Listinfo, Unsubscribing etc. http://lists.moqtalk.org/listinfo.cgi/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org Archives: http://lists.moqtalk.org/pipermail/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org/ http://moq.org.uk/pipermail/moq_discuss_archive/
