Kirjoitin edellisessä bloggauksessa Emily Greene Balchista, vuoden 1946 Nobelin rauhanpalkinnon toisesta saajasta. Hän julkaisi runokirjan 74-vuotiaana.
Useat kirjan runoista ovat aforistisia ja filosofisia pohdintoja ja kiteytyksiä elämästä. Niissä näkyy kirjoittajan pitkä elämänkokemus ja hänen elämänkatsomuksensa, joka on saanut hänet jatkamaan usein varmaankin raskasta ja epäkiitollista työtään rauhan hyväksi vuosikymmenestä toiseen. Monissa runoissa ilmenee myös henkisyys tai hengellisyys, mutta vain harvoin tiettyyn uskontokuntaan liittyvä uskonnollisuus. Luonto ja sen uudistava voima on Balchille tärkeää.
Runot ovat lyhyitä ja usein päällisin puolin helposti ymmärrettäviä. Koska kirja itsessäänkin on lyhyt, luin sen ehkä kolmeen kertaan Balchin elämäkertaa lukiessani. Vaikka monet runot tuntuivat aluksi varsin simppeleiltä ja jotkut opettavaisiltakin, niiden uudelleen lukeminen on tuonut niistä esiin uusia puolia ja syvyyttä. Myös Balchin elämänvaiheiden tunteminen antaa runoille kaikupohjaa, joten olen alkanut pitää tästä kirjasta koko ajan enemmän.
For a Guest Book
Shared are the bread and salt
But this is the lesser part.
Wide are the doors of the house,
Wider the doors of the heart.
Home (ote)
Dear to me, beyond words dear to me,
Is the Earth:
Wherever I pass I am at home.
...
The bodies of all earth's children
Drawn from her substance
Return again to her.
Boundaries and frontiers and differences -
There are these,
Yet earth and all her offspring are one.
Breath of Night
Tonight not book nor pen,
Nor other men,
Nor even thought.
Let but my soul lie bare
That I may share
What comes unsought;
That I may hear and know
The various flow
Of the living sea.
Breathe with the breath of night,
Whose blindness passes sight
And sets me free.
Not Sacrifice
I said to God, "I will put away
My will and my wish this very day;
I will yield up my pleasure and bear my pain
If Thou wilt make the commandment plain."
Within, the still small voice replies:
"Thyself must answer thine own cries.
An oracle were a poor device.
Obedience is for the slave,
To give up thy will is to waste what I gave.
Let thy will grow strong and free and wise,
But not yet does thy will suffice
If goodness to thee is sacrifice."
Imprints (otteita)
Compensation
To struggle against this wind is bitter.
Primroses are in bloom.
Helplessness
My little bird without feathers.
My little rose with no green leaves to shelter it.
The Tonic
The sharp air lifts my chest.
My feet have courage.
Capacity
God's goodness cannot fill a little heart.
A great heart it overflows.
Youngness
She is so young. Her startled air
Is that of a wild bird or hare.
Her graceful awkwardness is gay
As that of puppies at their play.
What she surmises, what she feels,
Her eye and not her tongue reveals,
But let no cynic cleverness
Misprize the depths of simpleness.
Provision Against Dark Days
If the dark days come
How shall I win through?
In the dark night of the soul
What could I do?
If I cannot find God,
If I cannot pray,
Or praying find only void -
What in that day?
As in the summer we can store up boughs
To warm the winter house
And make it home
Can I not store the warmth of these good days
For those of sick despondency's amaze
Should such days come?
Can I not then remember days like these
When life beats warm and strong,
When I am part of all and welcome all -
Work, pain and pleasure, tears and song?
May I remember in the darkened days
How dear is life to the sane,
How they love life though they be lonely, poor,
Weary, oppressed, in pain.
Old Age (ote)
I
The Last Trip of the Old Explorer
Well, Sarah dear, it is nice to be back.
Were you all right while I was gone?
I made it quite successfully -
Got as far as our corner and back through Smith's yard.
Hardly limped - carrying no cane either -
And only stopped twice to ease the old heart.
I have to report one cat and two hens,
Nothing else to enter in the log.
Quite an expedition, if not to the Arctic!
But I am tired after it, I must admit.
Days
Christmas - day of giving and receiving,
Easter - of remembering and believing,
Every day - the miracle of living.
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| Kirjan ainoa kuva, joka on tarkemmin katsottuna hyvin dramaattinen. |
Emily Greene Balch: The Miracle of Living, 1941. Island Press. 51 sivua.
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