On Poetry

Nichita Stanescu says:” poetry is not a tear/it is the weeping itself/the weeping of an uninvented eye/the tear of the eye/of the one who must be beautiful”. He defines poetry with a philosophical agony, uninventedness and a lost identity which is the beauty as an ideal. These three elements can make poetry to be a traveler, beyond cultures and history.  In every moment of our life, we are collectively facing humanity's past, which is our primary language.  It seems we live in the background of an unending chorus, in "a hall of mirrors".  These elements persist in pure mathematics too. It starts with despair and the uninventedness of intuition leads it to touch the boundaries of an abstraction, a beauty as a lost identity. Mathematics has a common language, so does poetry.



Fragment 4: History

Orpheus: The infinite!


7 October 1951,
was a cold, dark, deserted night
we were thirty people, a knife wouldn't part our lips
then we saw you from the wagon
languorously flowing
we all took out our cigarettes, lit up
and sang folk song.
--Ilhan Berk, Turkish Poet


1 In a folk story, a sparrow starts a journey to ask this question from all the creatures”:’ who is the greatest?’ The mountain says grass, the grass says goat, the goat says wolf, and the wolf says the dog, the dog points to a shepherd, and the shepherd point to his flute. This story waits for a moment when the wolves come to the herd; the shepherd is alone and feels the wolves are coming. He uses his flute and plays, the voice reaches another shepherd and he plays too, little by little, the whole country is playing and all the shepherds gather to fight against wolves. In this story, flute has not appeared in its poetical function; also, the shepherd is not a poet. The voice of flute, in this story points to function of language. Flute sends a sign or a message to express something. This folktale says that language is the greatest. In addition, the story knows that flute in this function can only gather shepherds, because they all have the same profit. This story, by describing this role of language, shows the ways of forming duality between human and the world. 7 October 1951 was a dark, cold, and deserted night. No one could speak. The language became dumb in that absolute coldness. All the human acts were impossible. There was no possibility for interpretation to bring conceptual meaning into the episode. The weight of reality abandoned the power of language, the power that have made gap between human and the world in order to aggrandize itself. There was a real absence for meaning -not a conceptual meaning originated from interpretation-. Our world is an interpreted world, and "in this interpreted world, we do not feel securely at home.” . This world is not a safe and secure place for us all, and Rilke thinks that interpretation has created this danger. The main role of a poet is to bring this lost safety back into the world. The safety which is not the child of this or that conceptual interpretation, but it is the child of experiencing a mystery that suspends the interpretations and as Ryokan says, there you can see: "Enlightenment and Illusion are two side of a coin, universal and particular are the same, and the heart searches for a true companion". The safety of that night of Bashu, the poet, and the whores were touching life inside this un-ended haiku: "under the same roof/ the whores slept too/ the flowers and the moon."

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Fragment 3: Effective Love

Eurydice: Is love mortal?
Orpheus: I do not know …
There are trains that would stop
Neither at a halt nor at a main railway station …
This is, however, a rough comparison …
Do not believe it!

He: They say, “What is aimless is immoral.” So what is the aim? There is a difference between hidden aims and decided aims. Interpretation lives in our decisions, a mask we use to shape things as ourselves, and a monologue. Is it possible to imagine a world without human decision? Yes, just break the watches: The conceptualized simulations of heart beating. What is the hidden aim of writing?

 

She: The hidden aim of writing it has always been for me the same J.E.Cirlot said: "substitutions of what the world is not and doesn’t give to me.”

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