Anonim
Tekst je najstarije pisano svedočanstvo o osećaju beznađa, Melanholiji.
Napisan je na papirusu,Egipat, oko 1850. godine pre nove ere.
Termin – ba, označava dušu, a Maat predstavlja sklad, pojam ravnoteže, istine.
Čovek
Obraćam se svojoj ba kako bih joj odgovorio:
Postaje mi previše teško zato što mi se moja
ba danas nije obraćala.
To mi je postalo tako nepodnošljivo da su čak I krici
uzaludni koliko ona na mene ne obraća pažnju.
Neka me moja ba ne napusti!
Neka mi bude naklonjena kada vidi moje očajanje!
(…) u mom telu poput mreže niti.
Jer, nemoguće je da pobegne od mene u dan nesreće!
Ali, pogledajte, moja ba se udaljava od mene
jer ne umem da je slušam!
Tako, neumitno me vukući ka smrti pre nego što me snađe,
jer me napušta sada u mojim bolima, dok bespomoćno izgaram!
(…)
Neka ostane u meni dan nesreće.
Neka mi bude naklonjena na ovom kobnom mestu,
neka usliši molitvu deteta kakvo sam ja.
Jer ona želi da se pokaže kako bi
dosegla sopstvene granice.
Moja ba, glupo je omalovažavati patnju zemaljskog života,
kada me mučiš mislima o smrti
i pre nego što do nje dođem.
Učini da mi zapad bude prijatan!
Da li je to zaista nesreća?
Zemaljski život je razdoblje prelaza jer čak i drveće pada.
Utabaj taj unutrašnji nemir i ukloni moj jad!
Neka mi sudi Tot, koji umilostivljuje božanske sile!
Neka me brani Honsu, pisar u skladu sa Maat!
Neka Ra, koji upravlja Nebeskim čamcem, shvati moj krik.
I naka me na kraju podrži Isdes u Svetoj dvorani!
Sve to zato što je moja patnja teško podnošljiva (…)
i što mi ne donosi ništa dobro.
Konačno, neka bogovi istisnu te mračne niti iz moga tela!
………………………………….
Crne (mračne ) niti u telu se ovde prvi put javljaju nagoveštavajući mnogo puta ponavljanu ideju o ,,crnim nitima u telu, zloćudnoj tamnoj supstanci,, odgovornoj za pojavu melanholjije.
O tome piše Aristotel u svom klasičnom tekstu nazivajući ih – crnom žuči.
Tu crnu žuč o kojoj Aristotel govori, a koja ukoliko je uravntežena u svojoj mešavini izaziva melanholiju, Homer je izrazio u stihovima o Belerofontu, koji se ,,zatvorio,,.
Ali kada i on svima bogovima baš
omrznu
Po polju po alejskome sam samcijat
lutaše on
Izjedajući dušu zaziro je kud ljudi
hode
...
jer ne umem da je slušam!
baat
..Kao da me ovih dana napustila moja ba
Maat je gluva kučka...
Anwers in a Game of Questions
THE LADY.
IN the small and great world too,
What most charms a woman's heart?
It is doubtless what is new,
For its blossoms joy impart;
Nobler far is what is true,
For fresh blossoms it can shoot
Even in the time of fruit.
THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN.
With the Nymphs in wood and cave
Paris was acquainted well,
Till Zeus sent, to make him rave,
Three of those in Heav'n who dwell;
And the choice more trouble gave
Than e'er fell to mortal lot,
Whether in old times or not.
THE EXPERIENCED.
Tenderly a woman view,
And thoult win her, take my word;
He who's quick and saucy too,
Will of all men be preferr'd;
Who ne'er seems as if he knew
If he pleases, if he charms,--
He 'tis injures, he 'tis harms.
THE CONTENTED.
Manifold is human strife,
Human passion, human pain;
Many a blessing yet is rife,
Many pleasures still remain.
Yet the greatest bliss in life,
And the richest prize we find,
Is a good, contented mind.
THE MERRY COUNSEL.
He by whom man's foolish will
Is each day review'd and blamed,
Who, when others fools are still,
Is himself a fool proclaim'd,--
Ne'er at mill was beast's back press'd
With a heavier load than he.
What I feel within my breast
That in truth's the thing for me!
Goethe 1789.
The Sleeper At midnight, in
The Sleeper
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
An opiate vapor, dewy, dim,
Exhales from out her golden rim,
And, softly dripping, drop by drop,
Upon the quiet mountain top,
Steals drowsily and musically
Into the universal valley.
The rosemary nods upon the grave;
The lily lolls upon the wave;
Wrapping the fog about its breast,
The ruin molders into rest;
Looking like Lethe, see! the lake
A conscious slumber seems to take,
And would not, for the world, awake.
All Beauty sleeps!- and lo! where lies
Irene, with her Destinies!
O, lady bright! can it be right-
This window open to the night?
The wanton airs, from the tree-top,
Laughingly through the lattice drop-
The bodiless airs, a wizard rout,
Flit through thy chamber in and out,
And wave the curtain canopy
So fitfully- so fearfully-
Above the closed and fringed lid
'Neath which thy slumb'ring soul lies hid,
That, o'er the floor and down the wall,
Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall!
Oh, lady dear, hast thou no fear?
Why and what art thou dreaming here?
Sure thou art come O'er far-off seas,
A wonder to these garden trees!
Strange is thy pallor! strange thy dress,
Strange, above all, thy length of tress,
And this all solemn silentness!
The lady sleeps! Oh, may her sleep,
Which is enduring, so be deep!
Heaven have her in its sacred keep!
This chamber changed for one more holy,
This bed for one more melancholy,
I pray to God that she may lie
For ever with unopened eye,
While the pale sheeted ghosts go by!
My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep
As it is lasting, so be deep!
Soft may the worms about her creep!
Far in the forest, dim and old,
For her may some tall vault unfold-
Some vault that oft has flung its black
And winged panels fluttering back,
Triumphant, o'er the crested palls,
Of her grand family funerals-
Some sepulchre, remote, alone,
Against whose portal she hath thrown,
In childhood, many an idle stone-
Some tomb from out whose sounding door
She ne'er shall force an echo more,
Thrilling to think, poor child of sin!
It was the dead who groaned within.
E.A.Poe
Silence
There are some qualities--some incorporate things,
That have a double life, which thus is made
A type of that twin entity which springs
From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade.
There is a twofold _Silence_--sea and shore--
Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places,
Newly with grass o'ergrown; some solemn graces,
Some human memories and tearful lore,
Render him terrorless: his name's "No More."
He is the corporate Silence: dread him not!
No power hath he of evil in himself;
But should some urgent fate (untimely lot!)
Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf,
That haunteth the lone regions where hath trod
No foot of man), commend thyself to God!
E.A.Poe
Maat
A short List Of Gods...
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