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  • John Keats (1795-1821)

    Posted by PuJa on Maret 16, 2010

    Written by Nurel Javissyarqi
    Translated by Agus B. Harianto

    TENTANG KEMATIAN
    John Keats

    Mungkinkah mati itu: tidur, bila hidup hanyalah mimpi,
    Dan gambaran bahagia luput seperti hantu berlalu?
    Segala kesenangan fana seakan-akan hayali.
    Betapapun, hemat kita: matilah terperih antara pilu.

    Alangkah anehnya: insan harus mengembarai bumi,
    Dan walau hidup serba sengsara, namun masih saja
    Setia dijalannya keras dan tak ayal berani sendiri
    Menatap bencana nanti, yang hakikatnya bangun belaka.

    ABOUT DEATH
    John Keats

    Could the dead: sleep, when life was just a dream,
    And the happy depiction like a ghost is gone and missing?
    Any perished pleasures are as if hayali.
    However, our efforts: died in most pain among the grief.

    How strange it is: human beings must wander on earth,
    And though live in completely miserable, but still
    Be loyal in the of hard and definitely be brave on his own
    Staring on future disaster, which essentially only awaken up.

    John Keats (1795-1821), British poet who was born in London and died in Rome. As the descendants of proletarian, thus in education he left behind than his friends; Byron, Shelley. Nevertheless, he succeeded to get the equivalent level of knowledge, from his diligence to learn autodidact. He began to write in his young, attracted attention of famous people in the English literary scene of his era, Ligh Hunt and William Hazlitt who would be his patron. Firstly, he was influenced by Ligh Hunt to follow the association of Cockney, who used everyday language in the activities to compose literature. Therefore, they were attacked from another group. The anthology of his first poems published in 1817: Poems, then a series of his works are, Endymion (1818), Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes, as well as poems as the fruit of his love emotion to Fanny Brawne. His last great poem that was unfinished is, Hyperion. Keats left England because of illness and one side love, he went to Italy and soon after that he died in Rome. Among the three British poets of romantic era who were friendly; Byron, Keats, Shelley, they died young. And only Keats in the modern is considered as the best. (Took from the book Puisi Dunia (World Poetry), Volume II, Compiled by M. Taslim Ali, Balai Pustaka 1953, which in retranslation into English would be more or less like above)
    ***

    Read the translation poems similar like touched the bodies in the mirror, estimated a supposition as much as extending the net of possibilities, could really achieve the intended and developed.

    Like stretched out these arms in the morning to permeates the presence of mist or read again and more the poetic points of view, hopefully it is up to the precision of estimates.

    If untouched and not interpreted at all of the hope of the poet, it could be took its points of his words. I thought the one touched the depth of heart is indeed true.

    If the meaning of poetic milieu is the universal language, I wanted to get closer of it, embracing it tightly to understand the essence of poetry from several translations.

    I thought the daily lesson would determine the colors and form of different formula, realized or not the distant interpreted the understanding of being there.

    It is indeed didn’t get justification a hundred percent, I am really not the person who came from several country with different traditions, but the experience had agreed that the literature belongs to the world.

    At least watching wildness of the creative desire, could be exemplified by the country that’s afflicting the troubles and disaster.

    If it didn’t realize would undermine the mental of nationalism for being equal, same dignity for all human beings on earth by His Power.

    That is conviction, resembling like the hand hit a solid material though it is hurt but if we practiced it will increase the strength, even though some bones will be torn but as the reward we could hit strongly.

    Also deepened to hold breathing in the lake, at first the chest will not be able to hold it but if we continued would have long breath and clear, when we are outside of submerged.

    How the language of poetry is like the blowing of air, we would catch its stream through the consciousness; certainly we will know a few style of its character.

    Such was my approach to study the dullness by hoping it would be crushed over by pettiness only for self confidence.

    After analyzed Byron and Shelley, now allow me to apprehend slowly to what Keats meant onto his poem.

    I hope anything would be designed to reduce the burden of curiosity, it would be more useful if eliminated the dike of hesitation, even though still felt worry.

    I thought it was the pulsation of anxiety embedded with hope to the synchronal presence to the destiny of life.

    For the sake of easiness of analyzing, I interpreted every two lines of his poetry. Hopefully it will be pleasing to reach the way of my words that are sometimes hard to follow. But I imagined the soft grip it is acceptable and continue.

    I
    Read poetry by using everyday language must capable to take the events behind presented reasoning. Keats, how he felt alive in the womb of mystery as if he dreamed, his sleep was really tight (alike died).

    Joy-sorrow disengaged uncontrollable of its depiction to be flied away by the possibility of riding on the changes of time. Human being blank lose consciousness drawn by painful incident, keeps question what really going on is.

    Which is the essence of life in the world, does it only a drop to drink (from the Javanese algorism), or merely throw stones without knowing where it will be fell next?

    II
    How Keats was contemplating good live wallowing in abundance luxury still hayali, compared with delicacy of the mind and the charming of beauty inner to accept the teaching. That is neither immortal because the sadness would not ever run out on this world.

    Then the understanding came, instead the suffering is unparalleled delicacy, but it still blanketed by hallucinations. Or, garden rising up thousands fragrant, after processing the motherland, as if the buds of happiness are attained.

    The seasons changed, the field was re-cultivated as much as river water flowed to not turbid and pollute. And the death as certain as the miracle of birth times beside the pain.

    III
    Admired on the color of life that is very diverse besides the mysteriousness of supported the breath of feeling of his mind, and suffering bear the parallel of knowledge as the game to determine the attitude to the dealt situation.

    Explored the past from past records in order to learn the impasse that was twisting step. Data are grouped according to its each consciousness, for easily moving the burden until the level of universal comprehension. And despite of reaching the truth he still afflicted by anxiety.

    This is the root of pathogenesis, how the weak souls are easily swept away. Only who want to make peace with all matters, would accept each purity and then at the misery of hesitation take the understanding.

    IV
    Keats realized that the heavy burden of mankind derived from the ownership of heart and mind, it should be seriously processed both by bravely staring at the disaster, in order to obtain grace on miserable road.

    At the end of his poem, he put what he carried on the corner of spacious, but it still being looked deeply again and again, repeatedly interpreted the comprehension to set the willingness of certitude.

    Rising anxiety watched over through sharp staring to be loyal to hand’s held, at kite string attacked by high wind, the anxiousness of wrong interpretation had made him overview what he longing for.

    He saved it piece by piece in order to not loss the meaning of presence, even when tired merely seen awaken up, but doesn’t a long sleep like stupidity?

    Keats dedicated poetic treasure to the world in order the observation that had done was really deep and through the tough of life would not disappear, even for a moment.
    http://www.sastra-indonesia.com/2010/01/john-keats-1795-1821/

    Filed under: Essay, PUstaka puJAngga

    One Response to “John Keats (1795-1821)”

    1. moh. ghufron cholid, on Maret 21st, 2010 at 08:50 Said:

      Salam persahabatan dan salam karya

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