Rain. The most perfect melody of nature endowed with all five senses capable of engendering a variety of human perceptions and reactions. It brings out the best tunes out of everything it lays drops on. Just think of the epic sound of the howling tress in E-major, or the soft, almost unhearable, sonnets of the blossoming flowers in C-minor, or the tinkling, brass voice of the aluminium window sills. It combines every static unit on the planet and transforms it into unique symphony whose spectacle is that of a divine theatrical scene. The unseen beyond the visible. Transparent, yet leaving traces that are too hard to remain unnoticed. Just like God. Having no form, but creating many. Stirring all flora and fauna with one simple touch. And its taste is far beyond the physical substances it gathers on its way down from the celestial womb. It is a taste of tranquillity, harmony and life. On the top of what it smells not of itself, but of everything it touches, of the rapidly growing plants in spring or the dormant trees in autumn, of the dog that tries to dry itself, of the girl’s hair it falls on, of the mountain it covers, or the city it purifies. In one word; if possible, it cherishes the most natural in all senses of this world. In every single of its constituents. Every, except the humans. The only true appreciators among them, are probably the poets. Even the agriculturalists do not hold such unspoiled opinion, but care about it only as a means to an end. A means of life support. All others are but one huge category of what can in a word be named as ‘tourist’ – hedonists who are likely to either moan about one single rainy day during their summer holidays, or complain about the unbearable summer heat, to which the rain is an instrument of salvation. Or those people, unfortunately the majority, whose faces become long while their clothes are naturally getting wet. Finally, in the light of one Japanese philosophy: “The more you run away and try to hide from the rain, the more it catches you”. – you may as well try to enjoy it.
четврток, 4 декември 2008 г.
Rain
Како мало освежување помеѓу минатите и идни сказанија, а воедно и благодарност за неговиот денешен спектакл, го споделувам овој мој троа постар еулогичен текст(не баш сум сигурен дека ова е соодветниот превод од англиското eulogy).
Rain. The most perfect melody of nature endowed with all five senses capable of engendering a variety of human perceptions and reactions. It brings out the best tunes out of everything it lays drops on. Just think of the epic sound of the howling tress in E-major, or the soft, almost unhearable, sonnets of the blossoming flowers in C-minor, or the tinkling, brass voice of the aluminium window sills. It combines every static unit on the planet and transforms it into unique symphony whose spectacle is that of a divine theatrical scene. The unseen beyond the visible. Transparent, yet leaving traces that are too hard to remain unnoticed. Just like God. Having no form, but creating many. Stirring all flora and fauna with one simple touch. And its taste is far beyond the physical substances it gathers on its way down from the celestial womb. It is a taste of tranquillity, harmony and life. On the top of what it smells not of itself, but of everything it touches, of the rapidly growing plants in spring or the dormant trees in autumn, of the dog that tries to dry itself, of the girl’s hair it falls on, of the mountain it covers, or the city it purifies. In one word; if possible, it cherishes the most natural in all senses of this world. In every single of its constituents. Every, except the humans. The only true appreciators among them, are probably the poets. Even the agriculturalists do not hold such unspoiled opinion, but care about it only as a means to an end. A means of life support. All others are but one huge category of what can in a word be named as ‘tourist’ – hedonists who are likely to either moan about one single rainy day during their summer holidays, or complain about the unbearable summer heat, to which the rain is an instrument of salvation. Or those people, unfortunately the majority, whose faces become long while their clothes are naturally getting wet. Finally, in the light of one Japanese philosophy: “The more you run away and try to hide from the rain, the more it catches you”. – you may as well try to enjoy it.
Rain. The most perfect melody of nature endowed with all five senses capable of engendering a variety of human perceptions and reactions. It brings out the best tunes out of everything it lays drops on. Just think of the epic sound of the howling tress in E-major, or the soft, almost unhearable, sonnets of the blossoming flowers in C-minor, or the tinkling, brass voice of the aluminium window sills. It combines every static unit on the planet and transforms it into unique symphony whose spectacle is that of a divine theatrical scene. The unseen beyond the visible. Transparent, yet leaving traces that are too hard to remain unnoticed. Just like God. Having no form, but creating many. Stirring all flora and fauna with one simple touch. And its taste is far beyond the physical substances it gathers on its way down from the celestial womb. It is a taste of tranquillity, harmony and life. On the top of what it smells not of itself, but of everything it touches, of the rapidly growing plants in spring or the dormant trees in autumn, of the dog that tries to dry itself, of the girl’s hair it falls on, of the mountain it covers, or the city it purifies. In one word; if possible, it cherishes the most natural in all senses of this world. In every single of its constituents. Every, except the humans. The only true appreciators among them, are probably the poets. Even the agriculturalists do not hold such unspoiled opinion, but care about it only as a means to an end. A means of life support. All others are but one huge category of what can in a word be named as ‘tourist’ – hedonists who are likely to either moan about one single rainy day during their summer holidays, or complain about the unbearable summer heat, to which the rain is an instrument of salvation. Or those people, unfortunately the majority, whose faces become long while their clothes are naturally getting wet. Finally, in the light of one Japanese philosophy: “The more you run away and try to hide from the rain, the more it catches you”. – you may as well try to enjoy it.
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