The Greatest Living Author, Karl Shapiro, 1960 - v.
I call Henry Miller the greatest living author because I think he is. I do not call him a poet because he has never written a poem; he even dislikes poetry, I think. But everything he has written is a poem in the best as well as in the broadest sense of the word.
Grove PressKitabı okudu
Cenneti ararken Cehennemde Bir Mevsim yazılır
Though he is trying to amass a comfortable fortune, with which he can travel the globe leisurely and comfortably, or settle down somewhere should he find the right spot, he is still the poet and dreamer, the man who is unadapted to life, the man who believes in miracles, the man who is looking for Paradise in one form or another.
Tolstoy once noted that “only people who are capable of loving strongly can suffer great sorrow,” while the Sufi poet Rumi wrote, “You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.”
Biri şu mösyö şeyine bizim şairlerimizi anlatmalı ...
"Tu le poet sonfu !
( Sen şairsin ! )
"Ah ! Türklerde adam gibi bir şair gelmemiş ki ,
;
Sayfa 81 - Venedik yayınlarıKitabı okudu
Rimbaud
As a Bohemian he is too Bohemian, as a poet too poetical, as a pioneer too pioneering, as a man of affairs too much the man of affairs, as a gunrunner too clever a gunrunner, and so on and so forth. Whatever he did, he did too well, that seems to be the complaint against him.
Eudaimonia praksistir (Poet.1450 a17; Fizik.il, 197 bs) . Aristoteles'e
göre, insani yaşam aklın ışığındaki pratik etkinliktir (NEI, 1098 a3) .Ancak
belirtmek gerekir ki; kötü insan da akıl temelinde hareket edebilir ve kötü
eylemlerde bulunabilir. Dolayısıyla; insan için iyi yaşam pratik etkinlik
değil, iyi pratik etkinliktir.
Ben öldükten sonra, eğer...
If, after I die, they should want to write my biography,
There's nothing simpler.
I've just two dates - of my birth, and of my death.
In between the one thing and the other all the days are
mine.
I am easy to describe.
I lived like mad.
I loved things without any sentimentality.
I never had a desire I could not fulfil, because
I never went blind.
Even hearing was to me never more than an
accompaniment of seeing.
I understood that things are real and all different from
each other;
I understood it with the eyes, never with thinking.
To understand it with thinking would be to find them
all equal.
One day I felt sleepy like a child.
I closed my eyes and slept.
And by the way, I was only Nature poet.
Penguin UK - Alberto Caeiro kimliğiyle yazılmış bir şiir. -If, After I Die-Kitabı okudu
İnsan parasını kaybedince fakir,
özgürlüğünü kaybedince esir,
aşkını kaybedince şair olurmuş.
When a person lost his money the poor,
is a slave when he lost his freedom,
he became a poet when he lost his love.
"Tu le poet son fu!"*
Bütün şairler çılgındır.
Sayfa 80 - Can yayınları, günümüz Türkçesi
Carol looked at her. "How do you become a poet?"
"By feeling things--too much, I suppose," Therese answered conscientiously.
