Πέμπτη 4 Σεπτεμβρίου 2008

Το Σκάκι της Ανησυχίας


Ο Άγγλος αποκρυφιστής Aleister Crowley και ο Πορτογάλος λογοτέχνης Fernando Pessoa παίζουν σκάκι. Όταν πέθανε ο Pessoa, ανακαλύφθηκε, μεταξύ άλλων, και η αλληλογραφία του με τον διάσημο αποκρυφιστή. Ευχαριστώ την Composition Doll για την αποστολή.

4 σχόλια:

  1. Ανώνυμος4/9/08

    THE CHESS PLAYERS

    I've heard that once, during I don't know
    · What war of Persia,
    When invaders rampaged through the City
    · And the women screamed,
    Two chess players kept on playing
    · Their endless game.

    In the shade of a leafy tree they stared
    · At the old chessboard,
    And next to each player was a mug of wine,
    · Solemnly ready
    To quench his thirst in moments when,
    · Having made his move,
    He could sit back and relax, waiting
    · On his opponent.

    Houses were burning, walls were torn down
    · And coffers plundered;
    Women were raped and propped against
    · The crumbling walls;
    Children, pierced by spears, were so much
    · Blood in the streets . . .
    But the two chess players stayed where they were,
    · Close to the city
    And far from its clamor, and kept on playing
    · Their game of chess.

    Even if, in the bleak wind's messages,
    · They heard the screams
    And, upon reflection, knew in their hearts
    · That surely their women
    And their tender daughters were being raped
    · In the nearby distance,
    Even if, in the moment they thought this,
    · A fleeting shadow
    Passed over their hazy, oblivious brows,
    · Soon their calm eyes
    Returned with confident attention
    · To the old chessboard.

    When the ivory king's in danger, who cares
    · About the flesh and blood
    Of sisters and mothers and little children?
    · When the rook can't cover
    The retreat of the white queen, what
    · Does pillaging matter?
    And when with sure hand the opponent's king
    · Is placed in check,
    It hardly concerns one's soul that children
    · Are dying in the distance.

    Even if the infuriated face
    · Of an invading warrior
    Should suddenly peer over the wall and cause
    · The solemn chess player
    To fall right there in a bloody heap,
    · The moment before that
    Was still devoted to the favorite game
    · Of the supremely indifferent.

    Let cities fall and people suffer
    · Let life and freedom
    Perish, let secure, ancestral properties
    · Be burned and uprooted,
    But when war interrupts the game, make sure
    · The king's not in check
    And the most advanced of the ivory pawns
    · Is ready to redeem the rook.

    My brothers in loving Epicurus
    · And in understanding him
    More in accord with our view than with his,
    · Let's learn from the story
    Of the impassive chess players how
    · To spend our lives.

    Let serious things scarcely matter to us
    · And grave things weigh little,
    And let the natural drive of instincts yield
    · To the futile pleasure
    (In the peaceful shade of the trees)
    · Of playing a good game.

    Whatever we take from this useless life
    · Be it glory or fame,
    Love, science, or life itself,
    · It's worth no more
    Than the memory of a well-played game
    · And a match won
    · Against a better player.

    Glory weighs like an overlarge burden
    · And fame like a fever,
    Love wearies, for it ardently searches,
    · Science never finds,
    And life grieves, for it knows it is passing . . .
    · The game of chess
    Completely absorbs one's heart but weighs little
    · When lost, for it's nothing.

    Ah, in the shade that unconsciously loves us
    · And with a mug of wine
    At our side, intent only on the useless
    · Effort of the chess game,
    Even if this game is only a dream
    · And we have no partner,
    Let's do as the Persians of this story:
    · Whatever out there,
    Near or faraway, war and our country
    · And life are calling us,
    Let them call in vain, while we dream
    · In the friendly shade
    Of our partners, and the chess game dreams
    · Of its indifference.

    ΑπάντησηΔιαγραφή
  2. O Fernando Pessoa χρησιμοποίησε διάφορα ψευδώνυμα γράφοντας τα ποιήματά του, τα οποία αντανακλούν διαφορετικές πτυχές της προσωπικότητάς του. Fernando Reis, Alberto Caeiro, 'Alvaro de Campos. Το παραπάνω ποίημα είναι γραμμένο το 1916 με το ψευδώνυμο Fernado Reis.
    Παραθέτω για την ιστορία το πορτογαλικό πρωτότυπο:

    Ouvi contar que outrora, quando a Pérsia
    Tinha não sei qual guerra,
    Quando a invasão ardia na Cidade
    E as mulheres gritavam,
    Dois jogadores de xadrez jogavam
    O seu jogo contínuo.

    À sombra de ampla árvore fitavam
    O tabuleiro antigo,
    E, ao lado de cada um, esperando os seus
    Momentos mais folgados,
    Quando havia movido a pedra, e agora
    Esperava o adversário.
    Um púcaro com vinho refrescava
    Sobriamente a sua sede.

    Ardiam casas, saqueadas eram
    As arcas e as paredes,
    Violadas, as mulheres eram postas
    Contra os muros caídos,
    Traspassadas de lanças, as crianças
    Eram sangue nas ruas...
    Mas onde estavam, perto da cidade,
    E longe do seu ruído,
    Os jogadores de xadrez jogavam
    O jogo de xadrez.

    Inda que nas mensagens do ermo vento
    Lhes viessem os gritos,
    E, ao refletir, soubessem desde a alma
    Que por certo as mulheres
    E as tenras filhas violadas eram
    Nessa distância próxima,
    Inda que, no momento que o pensavam,
    Uma sombra ligeira
    Lhes passasse na fronte alheada e vaga,
    Breve seus olhos calmos
    Volviam sua atenta confiança
    Ao tabuleiro velho.

    Quando o rei de marfim está em perigo,
    Que importa a carne e o osso
    Das irmãs e das mães e das crianças?
    Quando a torre não cobre
    A retirada da rainha branca,
    O saque pouco importa.
    E quando a mão confiada leva o xeque
    Ao rei do adversário,
    Pouco pesa na alma que lá longe
    Estejam morrendo filhos.

    Mesmo que, de repente, sobre o muro
    Surja a sanhuda face
    Dum guerreiro invasor, e breve deva
    Em sangue ali cair
    O jogador solene de xadrez,
    O momento antes desse
    (É ainda dado ao cálculo dum lance
    Pra a efeito horas depois)
    É ainda entregue ao jogo predileto
    Dos grandes indif'rentes.

    Caiam cidades, sofram povos, cesse
    A liberdade e a vida.
    Os haveres tranqüilos e avitos
    Ardem e que se arranquem,
    Mas quando a guerra os jogos interrompa,
    Esteja o rei sem xeque,
    E o de marfim peão mais avançado
    Pronto a comprar a torre.

    Meus irmãos em amarmos Epicuro
    E o entendermos mais
    De acordo com nós-próprios que com ele,
    Aprendamos na história
    Dos calmos jogadores de xadrez
    Como passar a vida.

    Tudo o que é sério pouco nos importe,
    O grave pouco pese,
    O natural impulso dos instintos
    Que ceda ao inútil gozo
    (Sob a sombra tranqüila do arvoredo)
    De jogar um bom jogo.

    O que levamos desta vida inútil
    Tanto vale se é
    A glória, a fama, o amor, a ciência, a vida,
    Como se fosse apenas
    A memória de um jogo bem jogado
    E uma partida ganha
    A um jogador melhor.

    A glória pesa como um fardo rico,
    A fama como a febre,
    O amor cansa, porque é a sério e busca,
    A ciência nunca encontra,
    E a vida passa e dói porque o conhece...
    O jogo do xadrez
    Prende a alma toda, mas, perdido, pouco
    Pesa, pois não é nada.

    Ah! sob as sombras que sem qu'rer nos amam,
    Com um púcaro de vinho
    Ao lado, e atentos só à inútil faina
    Do jogo do xadrez
    Mesmo que o jogo seja apenas sonho
    E não haja parceiro,
    Imitemos os persas desta história,
    E, enquanto lá fora,
    Ou perto ou longe, a guerra e a pátria e a vida
    Chamam por nós, deixemos
    Que em vão nos chamem, cada um de nós
    Sob as sombras amigas
    Sonhando, ele os parceiros, e o xadrez
    A sua indiferença.


    Ricardo Reis, 1-6-1916

    ΑπάντησηΔιαγραφή
  3. Ανώνυμος5/9/08

    Η ελπίδα της ισοπαλίας 2005

    Όσο η παρτίδα συνεχίζεται υπάρχει ελπίδα

    Το κοριτσάκι απέναντι
    κοιτούσε
    με βλέμμα φοβισμένο

    Τρελός δεν ήταν ούτε βασιλιάς
    Κι ούτε των βασιλιάδων αγγελιαφορος
    Ας έλιωναν στην άλλη άκρη των αιώνων
    Ας αποκεφαλιζόταν ο πατέρας Μπρος στην πανίσχυρη βασίλισσα Στα πόδια της
    Σ αυτό το φεμινιστικό παιχνίδι Όπου η σύζυγος επικρατεί
    Από αρχαιοτάτων χρόνων
    Σαν αυτοκρατορικής εκλογής παρασκήνιο
    Ποιος ξέρει μέσα από τι δολοπλοκίες
    Κι όλο το ματς για έναν αποκεφαλισμό.

    Ένας δημοκρατικός άνθρωπος χαίρεται
    όταν αποκεφαλίζονται οι μονάρχες Από τη Γαλλική επανάσταση και πέρα
    Την κοίταζε κι αυτός
    Ενώ συνέχιζε να παίζει
    Θα έπρεπε να περιμένει
    Άλλα πέντε χρόνια
    Πριν θαυμαστής ανεπανόρθωτός της καταστεί
    Μεσήλικας χωρίς ελπίδα πια
    Όταν από της ομορφιά της αντιπάλου του
    Δεινή εκτίμηση των καμπυλών της
    Η θέση αναλύεται κακώς Μπερδεύονται βαριάντες
    Φαντάσματα κινήσεων εμφανίζονται Προκύπτει
    Αμηχανία στην εκτίμηση θέσης Ανύπαρκτα πλεονεκτήματα Ανακρίβεια στην κίνηση
    Και επομένως
    Ήττα με ξίφος
    Όπλα πανάρχαια
    Που επανέρχονται
    Θύμα της ομορφιάς και αυτός
    Ας την πούμε εδώ Μαρία

    Αλλά τώρα δεν είναι η στιγμή
    Χρόνια που θα προκύψουν αργότερα
    Κι έτσι
    Έχοντας εντοπίσει συνδυασμό τακτικής
    Τοποθετώντας τη βασίλισσα μπροστά
    πίσω τον αξιωματικό Καταλαμβάνοντας την κρίσιμη διαγώνιο
    Επιτίθεται
    Διασπά την άμυνα
    Από τα παιδικά του Σπασμένα γόνατα
    Μπαίνει στην περιοχή
    Και κόβει πιόνι με απειλή
    Διαδοχικά τον πύργο
    Το βασιλιά της τρέπει σε φυγή
    Με τον ιππότη
    Που καραδοκεί
    Ενέδρα ετοιμάζει
    Έχοντας το κρίσιμο τετράγωνο καταλάβει
    της διαφυγής
    Σε θέση
    Προβαίνει για Ματ

    Ματ λοιπόν σε μια κίνηση
    Τον πόντο να εξασφαλίσει
    Για την ομάδα
    Να φέρει είδηση
    Άγγελμα χαρμόσυνο
    Πυρσό ν ανάψει στη βουνοκορφή
    Σημείο Νίκης

    Αλλά κάτι γίνεται
    -Ισοπαλία δέχεσαι η ερώτηση
    Καθώς η επιλογή
    Μισός βαθμός κι ένα χαμόγελο
    Αφού η νίκη μια κλωστή από την ήττα Ο θάνατος απ τη ζωή

    Με το χαμόγελο πέρα για πέρα
    Που λυτρώνει

    ΑπάντησηΔιαγραφή

Σημείωση: Μόνο ένα μέλος αυτού του ιστολογίου μπορεί να αναρτήσει σχόλιο.