Clár ábhair
They were shy before her, transferring the power of her poems to her personality. She herself said: “Everyone considers me courageous. I do not know a person more timid than me. I’m afraid of everything … «On the day of memory of the brilliant poet and paradoxical thinker, we picked up a few of her statements that will help to better understand this woman.
Dian, éadulaingt ar thuairimí daoine eile, catagóiriúil - Chuir sí a leithéid i bhfeidhm orthu siúd timpeall uirthi. Tá sleachta bailithe againn óna cuid litreacha, dialanna agus agallaimh…
Maidir le grá
Chun comhleanúnachas iomlán na n-anam, tá gá le comhleanúnachas anála, cad is anáil ann ach rithim an anama? Mar sin, chun go dtuigeann daoine a chéile, ní mór dóibh siúl nó luí taobh le taobh.
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Is éard is grá ann ná duine a fheiceáil mar a bhí beartaithe ag Dia dó a bheith. and the parents did not. Not to love — to see a person as his parents made him. Fall out of love — to see instead of him: a table, a chair.
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Mura ndeir na cinn atá ann faoi láthair “Is breá liom”, ansin as eagla, ar an gcéad dul síos, iad féin a cheangal, agus ar an dara dul síos, a chur in iúl: lower your price. Out of pure selfishness. Those — we — did not say «I love» out of mystical fear, naming it, to kill love, and also out of deep confidence that there is something higher than love, out of fear this higher — to reduce, saying «I love» — not to give. That is why we are so little loved.
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…Níl grá ag teastáil uaim, tá tuiscint ag teastáil uaim. For me, this is love. And what you call love (sacrifice, fidelity, jealousy), take care for others, for the other — I do not need this. I can only love a person who on a spring day would prefer a birch to me. This is my formula.
Maidir leis an Motherland
Ní coinbhinsiún críche í an Motherland, ach neamh-inaistritheacht na cuimhne agus na fola. Gan a bheith sa Rúis, dearmad a dhéanamh ar an Rúis - ní féidir ach eagla a bheith orthu siúd a cheapann an Rúis lasmuigh díobh féin. Ina bhfuil sé istigh, caillfidh sé é ach amháin mar aon leis an saol.
Maidir le buíochas
I am never grateful to people for deeds — only for essences! B’fhéidir gur timpiste é an t-arán a thugtar dom, is eintiteas i gcónaí aisling mar gheall orm.
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Glacaim mar a thugaim: go dall, chomh suarach le lámh an bhronntóra agus atá uirthi féin, an faighteoir.
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Tugann an fear arán dom.Cad atá ar dtús? Tabhair ar shiúl. Tabhair ar shiúl gan buíochas a thabhairt. Buíochas: bronntanas duit féin ar son an mhaith, is é sin: grá íoctha. Tugaim an iomarca onóir do dhaoine as iad a chiontú le grá íoctha.
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Is comhartha de thearcfhorbairt iomlán an anam agus an smaoinimh é foinse earraí le hearraí a aithint (cócaire le feoil, uncail le siúcra, aoi le tip). A being that has gone no further than the five senses. A dog that loves to be petted is superior to a cat that loves to be stroked, and a cat that loves to be stroked is superior to a child that loves to be fed. It’s all about degrees. So, from the simplest love for sugar — to love for the caress of love at the sight — to love without seeing (at a distance), — to love, despite (dislike), from small love for — to great love outside (me) — from love receiving (by the will of another!) to love that takes (even against his will, without his knowledge, against his will!) — to love in itself. The older we are, the more we want: in infancy — only sugar, in youth — only love, in old age — only (!) Essence (you are outside of me).
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Is náire é a ghlacadh, ní hea, is náire é tabhairt. Is léir nach ndéanann an glacadóir, ós rud é go nglacann sé; tá sé soiléir ag an tabharthóir, ós rud é go dtugann sé. Agus tá an t-achrann seo gan aon ... Ba ghá a thabhairt ar do ghlúine, mar a iarrann na beggars.
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Ní féidir liom ach an lámh a thugann an ceann deireanach a admire mar sin: Ní féidir liom a bheith buíoch riamh do na saibhir.
Thart ar an am
… Níl cead ag éinne a ngaolta a roghnú: Bheadh áthas orm, déarfainn, mo aois a ghrá níos mó ná an ceann roimhe seo, ach ní féidir liom. Ní féidir liom, agus ní gá dom. Níl sé d'oibleagáid ar aon duine grá a dhéanamh, ach tá sé d'oibleagáid ar gach duine nach bhfuil grá aige: an rud nach bhfuil grá aige, - cén fáth nach bhfuil grá agat - beirt.
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… B'fhéidir go bhfuil mo chuid ama i mo shuí, táim i m'aonar, mar tá mé - cad is féidir liom a bhagairt, Déarfaidh mé níos mó (toisc go dtarlaíonn sé!), is féidir liom rud duine éigin eile in aois duine eile a fháil níos inmhianaithe ná mo cheann féin - agus ní trí ghlacadh le nirt, ach trí ghlacadh le cairde - féadfaidh leanbh máthar a bheith níos milse ná a leanbh féin, a chuaigh chuig a athair, is é sin, go dtí an haois, ach tá mé ar mo leanbh - leanbh na haoise - doomed, ní féidir liom breith a thabhairt do dhuine eile, mar ba mhaith liom. Marfach. Ní féidir liom mo aois a ghrá níos mó ná an ceann roimhe seo, ach ní féidir liom freisin aois eile a chruthú seachas mo chuid féin: ní chruthaíonn siad an rud atá cruthaithe agus ní chruthaíonn siad ach chun tosaigh. Ní thugtar do leanaí a roghnú: sonraí agus tugtha.
Ó grá
I don’t want — arbitrariness, I can’t — necessity. «What my right leg will want…», «What my left leg can do» — that’s not there.
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Tá “Ní féidir liom” níos naofa ná “Ní theastaíonn uaim.” «I can not» - it’s all overdone «I don’t want», all corrected attempts to want — this is the final result.
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My «I can’t» is the least of all infirmity. Moreover, it is my main power. This means that there is something in me that, despite all my desires (violence against myself!) still does not want, contrary to my wanting will directed against me, does not want for all of me, which means that there is (beyond my will!) — «in me», «mine», «me», — there is me.
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Níl mé ag iarraidh fónamh san Arm Dearg. Ní féidir liom fónamh san Arm Dearg… Cad atá níos tábhachtaí: gan a bheith in ann dúnmharuithe a dhéanamh, nó gan a bheith ag iarraidh dúnmharuithe a dhéanamh? In not being able is our whole nature, in not wanting is our conscious will. If you value the will out of all essence, it is stronger, of course: I don’t want to. If you appreciate the whole essence — of course: I can not.
Maidir le (mí)thuiscint
Níl mé i ngrá liom féin, tá mé i ngrá leis an bpost seo: ag éisteacht. Dá ligfeadh an duine eile dom éisteacht liom féin freisin, mar a thugaim féin (mar a thugtar dom mar a thugann mé féin), d’éistfinn leis an gceann eile freisin. Maidir leis na cinn eile, níl ach rud amháin fágtha agam: buille faoi thuairim.
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— Know yourself!
Bhí a fhios agam. Agus ní dhéanann sé sin níos fusa dom aithne a chur ar an gceann eile. Ar a mhalairt, chomh luath agus a thosaíonn mé ag breith ar dhuine liom féin, tarlaíonn míthuiscint tar éis míthuiscint.
Maidir le máithreachas
Tá grá agus máithreachas beagnach comheisiatach. Tá fíor-mháithreachas misniúil.
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Ar rugadh an mac mar a mháthair, ní dhéanann sé aithris, ach leanann sé as an nua, that is, with all the signs of another sex, another generation, another childhood, another heritage (for I did not inherit for myself!) — and with all the invariance of blood. … They do not love kinship, kinship does not know about their love, being in kinship with someone is more than loving, it means being one and the same. Question: «Do you love your son very much?» always seemed wild to me. What is the point of giving birth to him in order to love him like anyone else? Mother does not love, she is he. … The mother always gives this freedom to her son: to love another. But no matter how far the son has moved from his mother, he cannot leave, since she walks in him next to him, and even from his mother he cannot step, since she carries his future in herself.