Friday, March 26, 2010

A Personal Chess History, A Poem By Kyran Lucien

A Personal Chess History, A Poem By Kyran Lucien

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Submitted by kyranlucien on Thu, 03/25/2010 at 6:58am.

A personal chess history.......

I.

I’m a man full of memories,

And every moment of my life,

Present or past,

I’m full of them like the heaven full of stars.....

To me, every object I see, every word I say,

My dog resting on my lap,

My girl lying beside me in my bed,

Ascribes me to a time when I was learning to feel

I have a history of my own,

Many things to mouth about,

And many things I learned at home

Good or bad, that made the man I am.....

My love for music, books or chess,

My love for friends,

Not measurable in a human way,

My opinions on god, good and evil,

Distorted by early misinformation,

My concepts about faith,

Inflamed by early readings,

And my eternal wish to fly away,

Living my life like a migrant bird,

Traveling around the orb,

Inspired by the beauty of being alive.

I wanted to know who I am.

I've always did, I still do,

I don't want to step the back door

birdbrained, unwitting, unsensible,

That’s why I started this personal history with chess in it.

II.

I shall begin talking about my father,

The most enigmatic human being,

I ever came across,

He was distant, quiet, a stranger,

My very first memories of life,

My very first memories of him,

Are related to a chessboard,

And my longing to be his friend.

A chessboard Immobile for days in the same place,

He’d practice on it his solitary matches,

Learning the labyrinth of possibilities

Just for the sake of it,

I wouldn’t ever ask anything, it was banned.

I wouldn't even try to be like him

I'd say to myself everytime I found

that silence unbeareable.

And I didn't want to play chess

Not for a while, nor staying home,

Not through my busy early youth

I just wanted to breath freedom.

Experience the rackety earth beyond my door,

Screaming lawlessly I was full of it,

But then somehow I'd be confronted with the real world,

And with family struggles and depressions,

I'd learned that everything was not right,

That old philosopher Pangloss was severely wrong,

We didn't live in "The Best Of All Possible Worlds",

As his own demoralized experiences advised.

He wasn't fond of music

At least not the way I am

But my grandma was

And she thaught me all about feelings.

She taught me to read, to play, to be free,

She told me stories I will never forget,

She read to me Shakespeare's tales,

Through Charles and Mary Lamb's eyes......

She kept from the fact that extreme beauty

Always hides extreme madness,

She kept from me how Mary Lamb

On a fit of anger stabbed both her parents

She always kept from me the ugliness of our world,

She protected me and made me conscious,

She tried hard to make me a believer,

And that's probably the only thing she'd ever failed to achieve....

There were too many gods and godesses,

Too many sprites and spirits

throughout the whole history

of civilization too take one god seriously....

There were simply,

Too many notes in that symphony.....

To Be Continued......

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Monday, March 22, 2010

If Only I Could….

If Only I Could….

i wrote the poem with some mistakes. since i write always in a hurry so as not to lose the idea or image of things in my head, i procrastinate too, and normally dont repair the mistakes since i feel my main task is done, to say something that’s bothering me. Also the picture of the girl is really corny now that i come to think of it, but i needed just something to make more evident the frame of mind i was in when i was writing. but here is the way it should have been written, more or less. If only I could stop thinking in chess and life….a poem by Kyran Your blog changes have been submitted. « Blogs home Submitted by kyranlucien on Mon, 03/22/2010 at 12:51pm. If only I could stop thinking in chess and life, Juat not thinking , feeling or minding. My chess pieces die too, like any normal human being. If I take a Knight One of my bishops will follow down a path where there’s nothing else but silence, long lasting death, what for…..? Is it better to be a coward…? is it better not to fight when a full, huge scope of ways are opening just in front of your staggered eyes…..? Is it better to hide in the most cryptic realm of your fears…. The principle of conciouss life offends my inteligence, There are no ancillary roads, there are no secondary choices or palliative strategies, there are no such things even when you play with them crooked ideas in your mind, you’re bound to make choices here you kill or die, here, there is no point of return, you enter the game to be done with it, and if you dont move and lose without fighting, shame on you…!!! you must be horribly depressed, you might not find a moment’s peace in your disillusion, but you must play the game like you live your life, and if you lose, then, well, something in your world is going terribly wrong, sometimes is better not to think, Aaaah! If I could only be a chess piece!!!! without memory or feelings at all…. but here I am, trying to find in a 64 squared board the secret rebuttal of a life in rags…. Kyran Lucien Thoughts? “the walls we build around us to keep sadness out also keeps out the joy” jim rohn. (this guy sucks anyway, i just found attractive this sentence)

If only I could stop thinking in chess and life….a poem by Kyran

Your blog changes have been submitted. « Blogs home Submitted by kyranlucien on Mon, 03/22/2010 at 12:51pm.

If only I could stop thinking in chess and life,

Not thinking , feeling or minding,

my chess pieces die too,

like any normal human being,

If I take a Knight

One of my bishops will follow

down a path where there’s nothing else

but silence, long lasting death,

what for…..?

Is it better to be a coward…?

is it better not to fight

when a full, huge scope of

ways are opening just in front

of your staggered eyes…..?

Is it better to hide in the most cryptic

realm of your fears….

The principle of conciouss life offends my inteligence,

There are no ancillary roads,

there are no secondary choices

or palliative strategies,

there are no such things

even when you play with them crooked ideas in your mind,

you’re bound to make choices

here you kill or die,

here, there is no point of return,

you enter the game to be done with it,

and if you dont move and lose without fighting,

shame on you…!!!

you must be horribly depressed,

you might not find a moment’s peace in your disillusion,

but you must play the game like you live your life,

and if you lose, then, well, something in your world

is going terribly wrong,

sometimes is better not to think,

Aaaah! If I could only be a chess piece!!!!

without memory or feelings at all….

but here I am, trying to find

in a 64 squared board the secret rebuttal

of a life in rags….

Kyran Lucien

Thoughts?

“the walls we build around us to keep sadness out also keeps out the joy”

jim rohn. (this guy sucks anyway, i just found attractive this sentence)

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Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) and the translation of Dante's Comedy

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) and the translation of Dante's Comedy

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Submitted by kyranlucien on Mon, 02/22/2010 at 5:49pm.

Kyran's Library and Musical Database

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) and the traduction of Dantes Comedy

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Submitted by kyranlucien on Mon, 02/22/2010 at 5:48pm.

Translation Notes
The seminal translation of The Divine Comedy - and the one presented here - was by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882), the famous American poet who wrote such classics as The Song of Hiawatha and The Courtship of Miles Standish. In 1861, after the tragic death of his wife, Longfellow found solace in the task of translating Dante into English.

Longfellow also wrote Six Sonnets on Dante's Divine Comedy during the work of translating the La Divina Commedia. These were published as poetical fly-leaves to the three parts. The first and second prefaced the Inferno. The third and fourth introduced the Purgatorio, and the fifth and sixth the Paradiso.


I respect any writer as much as i respect Longfellow because is not an easy thing to write, but when it comes to translations, i think you should better have a good knowledge of the language youe are translating or you gonna run into many inexactitudes and misinterpretations. A good skill is recommended, not basic understanding, but knowledge. Dante and Homer and Virgil are very dificult to translate because they wrote not in prose but in verse. how knowledgebla you have to be to translate a story written with a very high level of metaphores, linguistic gyres and poetry....?I would not try to translate greek to english even though I love Homer. There was a mexican writer, called Alfonso Reyes, the best mexican writer i have ever read, who dedicate all of his life, like the great english poet and novelist Robert Graves, to learn and understand the greek spirit of language, He, Alfonso Reyes, like Robert Graves, wrote a wonderful body of work about greek culture, in the case of Reyes, he wrote more than 40 volumes of greek matters and literature and translations, but he only took the task of tranlating the Iliad and the Odissey at a very late age, when he was sure of was he was saying, and Alas....! his traduction is regarded as thye best ever made in spanish of the inmortal works, and guess what....He did it in Verse...!!!!! he not only translate the sories, but faithful to the spirit of both works, he made it into verse....he wrote every end of a line in rhyme with the next one and the next one. and another line with a different ending, would sound not like the next one but the one after, you'll see, Homer wrote in Hexameters, a very popular way of writing in the old ages, Dante in Rhyma terza or tercets, and therefore, the importance of final syllables are fundamental for the works themselves, are the most important feature of this art, it provides tempo, music, cadence, poetry, and a sense of harmony to the whole, and too many translations of homer and other masters were made in prose before, but nothing in verse, with which, to read Homer or Dante or Virgil or Hesiod or anybody else, in a different language than the original was half an experience of the ride, till the 20th century in which some scholars decided to try the translation in verse, and from then, everything sounded different. I know that there is no way to be totally accurate, but the Graves and Reyes, they both have made amazing efforts to give Homer and the Dante what they deserve: Respect.

If you think that translate is possible just with grabbing a dictionary and looking for words, you got it wrong.

Dante Wrote:


Tant’ è amara che poco è più morte;

ma per trattar del ben ch’i’ vi trovai,

dirò de l’altre cose ch’i’ v’ho scorte.


Longfellow translates:

So bitter is it, death is little more;

But of the good to treat, which there I found,

Speak will I of the other things I saw there.


Good to treat...!!!!???

what's that...?

In this line especifically, the poet says:

so bitter that death is only a bit more

but to speak of what i really saw

speak i must of the other things i found

After reading this you dont feel like you really want to keep going on this translation, but to find another version instead, provided of course that what your looking for is the experience of beauty as well as the understanding of the poet's ideas, in my case, i try to not take a lesser work than the original self....

well, i cant finish this now, my big problem is I can't never finish anything, i dont have solitude or peace, how can you think when everybody is jumping on you like a, like a, like suckers...!

alfonso_reyes_02.jpg

Alfonso Reyes

robert_graves.jpg

Robert Graves

HomerSimpson49.gif

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by monkeylife - 21 days ago
durham Great Britain
Member Since: Aug 2009
Member Points: 6

there is only one truth it is not religion its the truth all your races and creeds matters not there is only one truth.........love...

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by kyranlucien - 22 days ago
Calgary Canada
Member Since: Jun 2009
Member Points: 3371

thanks for reading

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by jay - 22 days ago
San Jose, CA United States
Member Since: May 2007
Member Points: 1366

interesting!
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WELCOME TO MYSELF TO MY TEAM...!!!

RADIOHEAD

WELCOME TO MYSELF TO MY TEAM...!!!

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Submitted by kyranlucien on Sat, 02/20/2010 at 5:18pm.

I AM SO HAPPY TO BE HERE IN MY TEAM,

I want to give me a very warm welcome,

I know i will enjoy myself here like crazy

and also will struggle for understanding,

because that is what is all about,

be happy like a dumb dwarf

which I am,

but cry like a soul in Dante's inferno afterwards,

happiness just happens one second in time,

is something that occurs like a dashing glimpse,

then crying's our lot,

because we are all and the same,

we are the biblical job,

and jonah in the guts of the whale,

we are a satellite of god

or a satellite of hell, but then again,

we are alone because neither is real, none of them

have ever been real, is just a bunch of dreams,

and we have to live alone, for good or for bad,

since the day we were born till the day we die,

we born and die alone,

and that is the first vexation of all.

This group is also to make a deep analisis

of the human condition,

the human tortured soul

as projected in this wonderful

band conceptions.

This group could have been called

Emile Cioran or Fredrick Nietzche

or Fiodor Dostoievsky or Ryunosuke Akutagawa,

Bertrand Russell or Saint Augustine, Mozart

Edgar Allan Poe, Nazim Hikmet or Cormac McCarthy for all we care,

because all of them have asked the same basic

questions before, one of the most extant being:

Why does evil and death and life in life

exist...? and what is our mission on earth,

why are we here....?

life is always the same just with different

approaches to same feelings: Being lost, full of longins

but always on the road, always in search of happiness

that cannot under any circumstance, ever come to be truth

The world we're living in is nurtured by

pain, anger, deception, rejection, dejection, abomination,

and populated by people with hopes and dreams

that somehow have always to finally come to terms

with the realization that no matter how hard humanity

tries, we will be always surrounded by sorrow and frustation

and we have to deal with it and learn to

walk through our lives accepting the facts

of life just as they are.

but always in overpowering awe of something

bigger than all of us together :

The life we share.....

danteinf1003.jpg

LASCIATE OGNI SPERANZA, VOI CHE ENTRATE....

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EN LA SOMBRA DEL AGUA......

EN LA SOMBRA DEL AGUA......

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Submitted by kyranlucien on Sat, 02/20/2010 at 3:30pm.

As some of my friends know, i am lucky to be on a leave of absence from work and I decided to come to Mexico, I place i love, after Puerto Vallarta I came to Guadalajara, and I am liking it so much, that I might stay here for a bit...Yesterday night i finally met Alejandro Filio, I heard some of his wondeful songs again and have the enormous luck of talking to him. The Story of Alejandro Filio's artistic career is that one that many talented creators share around the world, a very good artist that have to live without ever achievieng the recognition he deserves just because he is inspired for good art manifestations and nobody cares for that, as we discussed, he could have been big in public favor if only he had decided to go for commercial stuff. Instead, he prefers books and poetry, he hates catchy tunes like those we hear in the radio and that honestly, I think, are only for lesser tastes, for people who couldn't learn a god damned good thing in life even if they try, like reading a book or enjoying a poem, people who sits and watch tv and laugh at very bad jokes, because they cant concentrate their attention in something a little deeper, is out of reach for them...like tv is for me. people is different, i know, but millions over millions of people with this lesser taste makes me think we the few can enjoy being free, as I couldn't be in a crowd of millions in any sense, I hate crowds, and i dislike being one of the millions, i have always prefered individualism over society, and I love people, i relly do, only think is i loved them when they are far away so i can enjoy thinking, in a crowd somebody says something and a chorus of dumb voices follow, i don't think that's what Filio likes, I'm sure i don't want to be around whenever happens...

Alejandro Filio was born in Guadalajara, Mexico in 1960, he is a poet and musician....during the 80's and 90's created polemic debates in local festivals due to decision of judges to award always people with commercial interests but with very poor performances and creativity.

Pedro Aznar was born in Argentina in 1959, and became very famous around the world due mostly to be a founding member , with international artist Charlie Garcia of the landmark rock band Seru Giran where he was vocalist and bass player, he worked afterwards in solo projects and collaborations with international performers before moving to USA to produce records and later be part of one of the best jazz acts in the world, The Pat Metheny Group, where he was vocalist and bass player. The Pedro Aznar era of Pat Metheny recordings is one of my favorite points in Pat metheny's career. Pedra Aznar fretless bass playing draws a lot of influence from Jaco Pastorius.

Jaime Sabines, a well loved and recognized Mexican poet whose poem LOS AMOROSOS enjoy worlwide recognition was born in Chiapas, in the south of the country in a land swarming with conflicts, separation ideals, and riped off by the mexican political class who would kill the legal owners of the land for centuries to own one the richest areas in the country, the mexican writer... ( my head is strong candidate for parkinson's disease, i cant remember now her name, but i have read her, i will remember later) already dead describes very well this corruption in her work, one of the recent mexican presidential candidates, arturo madrazo's family, had been guilty for centuries of this kind of crimes, i am glad he never made it to the presidency of that country, because what he basically is , is just another latin american assasin like pinochet or castro...Sabines was very decent poet, not the best in mexico where on the other hand there are not many good poets, sorry, but this is only my appreciation, be he was one of the good ones.

Nicoletta Tomas Caravia (1963): an awesome spanish painter winner of the 2000 international art contest.

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LAMIA...A dream by Kyran

LAMIA...A dream by Kyran

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Submitted by kyranlucien on Thu, 02/18/2010 at 2:27pm.

lamia

That dream has come again, She always does,

She tries to deceive me, to lull me into thinking

i dont know Who i'm dealing with

but i know Her very well

i know She will use any disguise to make me believe

i am at a loss, but Her's machinations are quixotic,

or maybe, She wants me to know I am awarded

with Her attention and also, She wants to prove

that a Lamia is indestructible.

I am in my early forties,

but She started visiting me many years ago

when I was only a high school boy

growing excited with the possibilities of love

glancing with curiosity the beauty of

my school girlfriends, going to bed at night

thinking in the rose i will give to

the girl of my dreams the next day,

and the soft, tender kiss she will give me

as a reward....

But Lamia, from whom i have only heard

in my grandmother's awesome, scary, sad,

full of longing and loneliness tales, which i would

beg her to tell me over and over again,

began to be ever present in my dreams,

Lamia grab ahold of my arm one night,

and took posession of my mind, She started visiting me

many eventides , in the form of lurid dreams

filled with horror, nightmares of death

closer by the minute,

which theme it seems always the same

with little variations.

A place high in the sky,

that seems perfect, altogether out of reach,

a place that after so much of my struggle and effort

in which I lay down half my life, I am able to conquer.

atop of this very, incredibly high place that I fear,

I find my only prize to be Lamia

filled with a violent horror, seized by an unexplicable

combination of madness, real panic, remorse and delusions,

(the things i have seen in these dreams...

not easy to describe....! )

I try to make my way back, to get back earth

where i belong, but to my bewilderment,

i find there's no way in my dream

i can make my way back down

first, I am terrified of high places,

second, the road I used to climb up

it's not to be found anymore

I know i can't stay here, I know

i couldn't survive one minute loving

the Lamia, so my next, logical step

is to jump out into the void and nothingness,

so i understand I am dead.....

It is always the same theme,

with different settings,

the top of a skyscraper on fire,

the top of huge tree,

the top of a mountain,

the top of the world,

it doesn't make difference,

the end is always the same,

the Lamia is there,

and I am, more or less,

one jump ahead of leaving

the life that i have always loved,

with the things and girls and people

i have loved, and for one last instant

I try to recognize what I did wrong,

and why I am tortured like this,

and I can't find an answer,

religion is not in my vocabulary,

so i don't pray,

but more or less,

I am almost dead....

lamia

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by kyranlucien - 26 days ago
Calgary Canada
Member Since: Jun 2009
Member Points: 3371

The Lamia in greek folklore, as shown in many of the greek myths in which she appears, is a corpse that rises at night to drink the blood of the living, when i was in school, studying ethymologies and greek myths, there was nothing so powerful in my imagination like the character of the Lamia, and it also made me shiver to remember again those old tales my grandmother use to tell me at night upon my unfatigable request, i was so in love with spirits and mythical creatures stories that i always dreamed to become an artist who could use this images in his works, like writings or filming or painting or putting music to myths like this, i guess i have always been influenced by this extraordinary creatures born of the minds of dreamy people like me....
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