Zbigniew Herbert Quotes

Be courageous when the mind deceives you Be courageous In the final account only this is important

We fall asleep on words / we wake among words

forgive me also that I didn't fight like Lord Byron for the happiness of captive peoples that I watched only risings of the moon and museums

I could write a treatise on the sudden transformation of life into archaeology

A craftsman must probe to the very bottom of cruelty.

Inanimate objects are always correct and cannot, unfortunately, be reproached with anything. I have never observed a chair shift from one foot to another, or a bed rear on its hind legs. And tables, even when they are tired, will not dare to bend their knees. I suspect that objects do this from pedagogical considerations, to reprove us constantly for our instability.

You can be a good painter if you study Cézanne's vision. Whoever dares to copy Van Gogh falls inevitably into the hell of imitators. For this painter didn't care about masterpieces, or even good paintings... but about what is beyond all painting, all art.

Lord I thank you for creating the world beautiful and various and for allowing me in Your fathomless goodness to visit places which were not the sites of my daily torments

Very early on, near the beginning of my writing life, I came to believe that I had to seize on some object outside of literature. Writing as a sylistic exercise seemed barren to me. Poetry as the art of the word made me yawn. I also understood that I couldn't sustain myself very long on the poems of others. I had to go out from myself and literature, look around in the world and lay hold of other spheres of reality.

ماذا أقول على شاطىء بحر صغير ميت يطمر الماء ببطء آثار أقدامٍ تتلاشى

The dead have need of fairy tales too.

A bird is a bird Slavery means slavery A knife is a knife Death remains death

And if the City falls but a single man escapes. He will carry the City within himself on the roads of exile. He will be the City.

there's a terrible silence before a predator's night sometimes an absurd airplane appears in the sky it throws out leaflets calling for surrender I would be happy to surrender but I've no one to surrender to

Bądź wierny Idź

Ta książ­ka ła­god­nie mnie na­po­mi­na nie po­zwa­la bym zbyt szyb­ko biegł w takt to­czą­cej się fra­zy każe wró­cić do po­cząt­ku wciąż za­czy­nać od nowa

And if the City falls but a single man escapes He will carry the City within himself on the roads of exile He will be the City

if we lose the ruins nothing will be left

I do not turn to history to draw from it an easy lesson of hope, but to confront my experience with that of others, to acquire something I might call universal compassion, and also a sense of responsibility, responsibility for the state of my conscience.

a przecież kupowałem w salonach sztuki pudry mikstury maście szminki na szlachetność przykładałem do oczu marmur zieleń Veronese'a Mozartem nacierałem uszy doskonaliłem nozdrza wonią starych książek

فى غفلة تخطّيت حافة أسنانها وبلعت لسانها الرشيق. يعيش فى أعماقى الآن، كسمكة يابانية.يمسّ قلبى والحجاب الحاجز كما لو كان يمسّ جدران حوض للسمك. تحرك الطمى من القاع. تلك التى حرمتُها الصوت تحملق فىّ بعيون واسعة وتنتظر كلمة. إلا أننى حين أكلمها لا أعرف أى لسان أستخدم- اللسان المسروق أم اللسان الذى يذوب فى فمى من فرط الطيبة.

when the Lord built the world he furrowed his brow calculated calculated calculated that is why the world is perfect and uninhabitable instead the world of the painter is good and full of mistakes the eye wanders from one color to another one fruit to another the eye mumbles the eye smiles remembers the eye says it is bearable only if one could enter inside there where the painter was without wings in slippers that fall off without Virgil with a cat in the pocket a benevolent fantasy and a hand that unknowingly corrects the world

... nuestros ojos reflejan una pregunta apacible como un espejo que ya no enmohece el aliento cada día renuevo mi mirar cada día va creciendo mi tacto con el cosquilleo de la cercanía de tantas cosas.

go upright among those who are down on their knees those with their backs turned those toppled in the dust you have survived not so that you might live you have little time you must give testimony be courageous when reason fails you be courageous in the final reckoning it is the only thing that counts and your helpless Anger - may it be like the sea whenever you hear the voice of the insulted and beaten

So is blurred so is blurred in me what white-haired gentleman separated once and for all and said this is the subject this is the object we fall asleep with one hand under our head and with the other in a mound of planets our feet abandon us and taste the earth with their tiny roots which next morning we tear out painfully

الحصاة كائن كامل متوائمة مع ذاتها واعية لحدودها مليئة بدقة بمعنى حصوىّ برائحة لا تذكّر المرء بشىء لا ترعب أحداً لا تثير رغبة حرارتها وبرودتها متعادلتان ومفعمتان بالوقار أشعر بندم ثقيل حين تمسك بها يدى وجسدها النبيل يخترقه دفء زائف -لا يمكن تدجين الحصوات ستنظر إلينا حتى النهاية بعين هادئة شديدة الصفاء

he wanted to understand to the very end —Pascal's night —the nature of a diamond —the melancholy of the prophets —Achille's wrath —the madness of those who kill —the dreams of Mary Stuart —Neanderthal fear —the despair of the last Aztecs —Nietzsche's long death throes —the joy of the painter of Lascaux —the rise and fall of an oak —the rise and fall of Rome

W gimnazjum panował kult rozumu, ale, jak wiadomo, nic bardziej nie wpływa na rozwój okultyzmu niż urzędowy racjonalizm.

cemeteries grow larger the number of defenders shrinks but the defense continues and will last to the end and even if the City falls and one of us survives he will carry the City inside him on the roads of exile he will be the City we look at the face of hunger the face of fire the face of death and the worst of them all—the face of treason and only our dreams have not been humiliated

حكاية روسية كبر أبونا القيصر الصغير وصار عجوزاً، عجوزاً جداً، لدرجة أن ليس بمقدوره الآن خنق حمامة بيديه. وكان متربعاً على عرشه ذهبياً وفاتراً. طالت لحيته فقط، حتى لامست الأرض وأكثر. تولى الحكم بعد ذلك شخص آخر، لم يكن معروفاً. اختلس أناس فضوليون النظر عبر نوافذ القصر لكن كريفونوسوف حجب النوافذ بمشانق. ولهذا لم يكن بمستطاع أحد رؤية أي شيء سوى المشنوقين. في النهاية ولحسن الحظ مات أبونا القيصر الصغير. دقت الأجراس طويلاً. ومع ذلك لم يشيعوه. أخذ قيصرنا شكل كرسي العرش. اندمجت قوائم العرش بساقي القيصر تماماً. وصار ذراعه ومسند الكرسي واحداً .كان من المستحيل انتزاعه. وبدفن القيصر مع العرش الذهبي- يا له من عار. زبيجنيو هربرت

The carpet is too soft. Also the palm tree in the lobby is unbelievable. For a long time the Maitre looks at our faces, shuffling passports in his hands. "Such dark-ringed eyes, such dark-ringed eyes. I knew a merchant from Smyrna, who also had a false front tooth. Nowadays one has to be terribly careful: informers and scorpions are everywhere." In the elevator we stand facing the mirror, but already at the first jerk we see silvery mildew in the place of our faces.

Svoje dogodovštine zabavno opisuje engleski crtač Edvard Dodvel. Radio je na Akropolju, koristeći camera obscura - prototip fotografskog aparata koji je davao umanjenu sliku građevina, mada je na crtežu omogućavao očuvanje proporcija reprodukovanih spomenika kulture. 'Jednoga dana, dok sam crtao Partenon svojom camera obscura, vidno uznemireni komandant garnizona upitao me je kakve to čarolije izvodim svojom neobičnom mašinom.' Dodvel pokušava da mu objasni, demonstrirajući rad svoga aparata. Turski oficir je i time preneražen. 'Videći to (...) promenih ton i zapretih mu da ću ga staviti u svoju crnu kutiju ako mi bude smetao i malretirao me.' Od tog vremena Dodvel je neometano radio.

Sa teme pejzaža pero mi je često klizilo u oblast legendi i istorije. Tu vezu koja postoji između pejzaža Grčke, njene umetnosti i verovanja ne uspevam ni samom sebi da objasnim. Samo mi snažna intuicija govori da grčki hram, skulptura i mit organski izrastaju iz zemlje, mora i planina. Iskušenje da ga opisujem završava se neuspelom deskripcijom. Nije mi čak pošlo za rukom da izrazim oblik i boju masline. A dobro mi je poznata bar jedna koja raste pored zida koji ograđuje Minosovu palatuu Knososu. Pogledom sam izbrojao svaki njen list i u sebi nosim precizno njene obrise. Međutim, treba biti Direr i od tog doživljaja sazdati predmet. Opisati samo jednu padinu planine: kresavo zelenilo žbunja, sa donje strane srebrnkasto. Tri bele kuće. Vinograd koji podseća na dugačak, nizak venjak. Odozgo zelenilo posuto plavetnilom, a između špalira vinove loze hladna, safirna stud. Mali pravougaonik veoma zvučne bronzane boje, kakvu ujesen ima lišće grab. I konačno, malčice iznad toga - kamen i retka trava. Htedoh to da opišem.

I Would Like to Describe - 1924-1998 I would like to describe the simplest emotion joy or sadness but not as others do reaching for shafts of rain or sun I would like to describe a light which is being born in me but I know it does not resemble any star for it is not so bright not so pure and is uncertain I would like to describe courage without dragging behind me a dusty lion and also anxiety without shaking a glass full of water to put it another way I would give all metaphors in return for one word drawn out of my breast like a rib for one word contained within the boundaries of my skin but apparently this is not possible and just to say - I love I run around like mad picking up handfuls of birds and my tenderness which after all is not made of water asks the water for a face and anger different from fire borrows from it a loquacious tongue so is blurred so is blurred in me what white-haired gentlemen separated once and for all and said this is the subject and this is the object we fall asleep with one hand under our head and with the other in a mound of planets our feet abandon us and taste the earth with their tiny roots which next morning we tear out painfully

Ubrzo sam shvatio da u meni postoje dva Akropolja, dnevni i noćni. Prvi je bio analitičan, s vodičevom glavom. Provera plana, istraživanje strukture celine, dodirivanje kamenja, zamišljanje onog što je propalo - poput studije anatomije iskopane životinje. Prvi pokušaji privikavanja, uspostavljanja ličnog odnosa prema spomeniku kulture. "Za sebe" sam izabrao Propileje i Partenon. Zbog njihove energije, mase i reda. Hram Nike je bio suviše filigranski da bih osetio njegovu kamenu materijalnost - pre je na mene ostavljao utisak uspešne kopije, Dobro urađenog zadatka na klasičnu temu. Najteže mi je bilo da uspostavim vezu s Erehtejonom. Portik karijatida ružile su metalne cevi podupirača koji su građevini oduzimali smisao i planiranu lakoću. Same karijatide, ubogaljene i lišene šarma, kao da su se zaustavile na pola puta između ljudskog oblika i stuba. Nad tamnim jezerom starih atinskih kultova ovaj jonski hram kao da govori o nemogućnosti povezivanja drevne vere s novim arhitektonskim izrazom. Drugi Akropolj - noćni, upaljen na nebu, koji se u celosti prepušta pogledima. Sedao bih na Brdo Muza, kraj samog spomenika Filopapu. Odozdo, iz sirotinjske četvrti Plaka, dopirala je banalna, svakodnevna vreva. U mraku se sjajio kreč belih kuća. U vazduhu se dizao miris ovčetine, maslina i belog luka. Akropolj u vencu mirisa crnog luka. Levo, među drvećem, svake večeri izvođena je predstava 'Son et Lumiere'. Sofoklovi horovi plakali su čas na francuskom, čas na engleskom. Svetlost je iz noći izvlačila fragmente svetog brežuljka. Crveni sjaj reflektora imitirao je požare. Tada je za mene Akropolj bio skulptura; ne arhitektonski kompleks, već skulptura. Ruinirana južna kolonada Partenona, nisko posečena stabla stubova izazivali su grč u mom srcu. Kamenje se borilo s napadom pustoši. S estetskog plana Akropolj se u mojoj svesti prebacio na plan istorije. Nisam mogao da ponovim ni uzbuđenje, ni molitve humaniste iz prošlog veka.(...) Akropolj koji mi se nalazio pred očima, sveden na skelet, odran od tela, za mene je istovremeno bio delo volje, reda i haosa, umetnika i istorije, Perikla i Morosinija, Iktinoja i lupeža. I, dodirujući pogledom njegove rane i ožiljke, osetio sam kako se u meni mešaju divljenje i sažaljenje. Ako sam crpeo posebno osećanje sreće u opasnosti, po svoj prilici to je proisticalo iz svesti o toj neobičnoj činjenici da sam "uspeo da stignem", pre nego što podelimo sudbinu svih ljudskih tvorevina na mračnom poluostrvu vremna, pre nepoznate budućnosti.

Grčki pejzaž mi se obratio patetičnim glasom mita i tragedije. Bio je to dominantan utisak. Nametljivo prisustvo gole zemlje, veoma izreckanih stenovitih masa, pojačano je oskudnošću biljnog pokrivača. Veliko drveće - topola, tisa, hrast - raste u dolinama, mada se šuma uvek povlači pred pritiskom niskog, bodljikavog žbunja koje nadvladava sve. Iz istorijskih predanja znamo da su danas gole padine kritskih planina nekada pokrivale kedrove i kiparisove šume. Okolina Olimpije bila je bogata topolama, međutim one su završile kao žrtva propisa koji je glasio : "To je jedino drvo koje se sme koristiti za prinošenje žrtava." Zbog toga je današnji grčki pejzaž divljiji i lišeniji zelenila nego u drevna vremena. Naravno, postojanje malih oaza tišine - gajeva, u kojima možemo zamišljati Sokrata kako razgovara sa Fedrom. Čak u centru Atine, gradu punom buke i grozničavog trčkaranja, može se skrenuti sa prometne Ulice Leoforo Dioniziju Areopagitu koja vodi duž podnožja Akropolja i uroniti u zavojite staze Brežuljka Muza. Dobro je doći tu uveče i bluditi između mirti, lovorovog žbunja i kiparisa. Drveće nije veliko, otprilike je u visini muškarca, u mraku je čovekoliko, tako da dobijaš želju da ga pozdravljaš, zastaješ i razgovaraš s njim. To posebno osećanje bratimljenja sa prirodom, prirodna lakoća s kojom ova poprima ljudske oblike, nisam iskusio ni u jednoj drugoj zemlji. Zbog toga mi se čini da metamorfoza drveća u šumske boginje (drijade) nije bila samo rezultat bujne mašte Grka, već pre oštroumne opservacije i preciznog razumevanja znakova koje šalje okolni svet.

poza tym jak zwykle handel i kopulacja

O duhovnom stanju stanovnika Atine s krajem XII veka govore sačuvane poslanice Mihajla Akominatosa koji je tridesetak godina bio atinski arhiepiskop. Rezidirao je na Akropolju, a službu služio u Partenonu - prema tome, može se smatrati da je postigao vrhunac snova svih humanista. Taj erudita, hrišćanin i poštovalac antike i svojim kitnjastim propovedima mešao je mitologiju sa Svetim pismom, egzaltirano nazivajući svoje ovčice "zlatnim semenom", odnosno da su verom dužne da moralno nadvise Ajaksa, Diogena, Perikla i Temistokla. Sirote nepismene ovčice (osim toga etnčki prilično složena mešavina koja govori jezikom veoma udaljenim od klasičnog grčkog) slušale su i ništa nisu razumele. Arhiepiskom Mihajlo nije mogao da se uzdrži i ne izrazi razočarenje: "O, Atino - majko mudrosti, kako si nisko skliznula u neznanje! Kada čitam svoje propovedi, tako jednostavne i lišene izveštačenosti, čini mi se da govorim nerazumljive stvari, na stranom jeziku nekakvih Persijanaca ili Skita.

Ani mam witać się ani żegnać żyjemy na archipelagach a ta woda te słowa cóż mogą cóż mogą książę

Ani nam witać się ani żegnać żyjemy na archipelagach a ta woda te słowa cóż mogą cóż mogą książę

Pašovi invited me to see his Grad (City), a collage, with music, of declamations, partly drawn from texts by Constantine Cavafy, Zbigniew Herbert, and Sylvia Plath, using a dozen actors;

he no longer dreams of flight but of a fall that draws like lightning a profile of infinity

I Would Like to Describe - 1924-1998 I would like to describe the simplest emotion joy or sadness but not as others do reaching for shafts of rain or sun I would like to describe a light which is being born in me but I know it does not resemble any star for it is not so bright not so pure and is uncertain I would like to describe courage without dragging behind me a dusty lion and also anxiety without shaking a glass full of water to put it another way I would give all metaphors in return for one word drawn out of my breast like a rib for one word contained within the boundaries of my skin but apparently this is not possible and just to say - I love I run around like mad picking up handfuls of birds and my tenderness which after all is not made of water asks the water for a face and anger different from fire borrows from it a loquacious tongue so is blurred so is blurred in me what white-haired gentlemen separated once and for all and said this is the subject and this is the object we fall asleep with one hand under our head and with the other in a mound of planets our feet abandon us and taste the earth with their tiny roots which next morning we tear out painfully

The dead have need of fairytales too.

the earth is the same everywhere wisdom teaches everywhere the man weeps with white tears mothers rock their children the moon rises and builds a white house for us

Thus I am in Holland, the kingdom of things, great principality of objects. In Dutch, schoen means beautiful and at the same time clean, as if neatness was raised to the dignity of a virtue.

Kaynağa ulaşmak için akıntıya karşı yüzmeli. Akıntıyla yüzüp giden şey çöptür sadece.

monday: empty storehouses a rat became the unit of currency

A blonde girl is bent over a poem. With a pencil sharp as a lancet she transfers the words to a blank page and changes them into strokes, accents, caesuras. The lament of a fallen poet now looks like a salamander eaten away by ants. When we carried him away under machine-gun fire, I believed that his still warm body would be resurrected in the word. Now as I watch the death of the words, I know there is no limit to decay. All that will be left after us in the black earth will be scattered syllables. Accents over nothingness and dust. — Zbigniew Herbert, “Episode in a Library,” Selected Poems. Trans. Czeslaw Milosz. (Ecco 1986) Originally published 1977.