Written by Nurel Javissyarqi
Translated by Agus B. Harianto
Before I interpret down to Nietzsche’s poem entitle “Kesepian” from the book “Malam Biru di Berlin (Blue Night In Berlin),” translated by Berthold Damshäuser and Ramadhan KH., 1989. At first, I would like to explore my impression to him (which is retranslated into English would be more or less like below).
At least I have two books of him that have been translated into Indonesian. Its bindings have been damaged, which I glued it with a nail, not with adhesive glue. Such is my behavior on the books I often read until dispersed, I like to fix it such as the carpenters fix the chair; Word of Zarathustra, Ecce Homo.
While the other two; “Lahirnya Tragedi dan Senjakala Berhala (Birth of Tragedy and Twilight of statue)” and “Anti Krist”, almost went to pot, but I haven’t nailed it yet. I thought, from these his four books I was burdened, so I tried to shed its weight. Or perhaps I had felt lighter, even up on tiptoe.
Nietzsche, the most passionate man I’ve ever met, if not suitable to call him very eagerly. His soul seemed to explode as if over the coals inflammatory, not even sit still for a moment. Resembles a swift wave beats up cape, people thought the value of well-established, he called idols.
He could not be conquered unless realize by himself, the surf is always diffuse to cope the porous, self slackness; the mental creates past feasibility, attacked by the storm of mistaken stricken exhausted. He wanted to be always sane, similar scales never stop rocking.
I’ve ever infected his “Zarathustra” was almost a year, the rest of it I was hesitating, whilst I as in the rented Gedong Kuning Yogyakarta till I returned to my homeland. Luckily I found stabilizing on the work of Ibn Attaillah, entitle Al-Hikam. If my destiny does not deepen as I walked over remote areas of Watucongol, Magelang, I might not normally and to be like him, who is inflicted by a lot of people.
Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche (October 15, 1844 – August 25, 1900) calls his individuality not a ghost, but to me by it he wants to reincarnate ghost haunts exceeded the millennium ahead. Tackle false values of artificial sweeteners; make fun of preachers capitalized with lipstick even with turban. He is really a ghost who has the intact body, as such the teachings of Karl Marx (1818-1883), which overshadowed the heads of his followers.
A kind of boils on the body of philosophy, also in the field of pampered group literature. He knows stagnation of values caressed by the fingers of the followers to be increasingly shiny, affected on gathered dirty blood and obsolescence minds that can not be enabled, automatically the rebellion came:
Came Jean Paul Sartre (1905-1980), by the great-grandfather of resistance Voltaire (1694-1778). Beside it appeared the coquettish philosophers and poets, who fought with the wild new comer.
The name of Nietzsche is often referred to as the specter and perhaps missed, especially when he says about “the god is dead.” To me a successful work such as “Sabda Zarathustra (Word of Zarathustra)”, not merely preach, instigated, moreover just make beautifulness. But, it could motion other organs to be able to infiltrate through the soul of the reader, to the extent desired and known.
I realized to the word of the painter Picasso, from the memories of Christian Zervos (1889-1970), that “… there is no more dangerous than justice at the hands of the judges and the brushes to paint on a painter’s hand! Just imagine the danger to society. ”
Hence, it is really dangerous if the words of poets and philosophers are interpreted incorrectly, moreover intentionally it is bent for the breath of futility; make judgments based on mere words, not based on historical upheavals in the range of perpetrators.
His loyalty to sacrifice himself imprinted and looked sunken on marble rocks of life. Like location of remains of the past of Pangeran Sambernyowo above the height of Gunung Gambar, which beneath is the chasm that depicted the moving map of the fog of conflict in the city of Surakarta.
He was sincerely having any physical illness or even psyche, floated by the waves into the middle of the ocean of freedom to understand the life surge up and down. Hopes to be superior as such layer of water near the solar light, which delivers the vessel towards the shore of meaning. After sailing puzzle and dragging agile steps, also in the depths of his soul, there is constant renewal.
Dissatisfaction of the womb of ocean has big fish and thousands of small fish compete to prosper the mind. Or rocks seething in the depths of the volcano for the blown up, if fully confinement of the deepest longing, until the lake of prosperity is created, generated seeds blown by the wind of change.
The texts are intercourse to pay to turbulent of era, brings the enlightenment as far as ability has been achieved so far. This evolved to the extent of his followers are able to understand, infiltrated into the soft threads not merely binding, but also attractive, and also enjoyable for gastric of humanity. And let us see his poetry:
Burung-burung gagak berteriak
Dan terbang ke kota dengan mengumbang:
Salju akan turun segera-
Bahagialah dia yang kini masih -berkampung halaman!
Kini kau berdiri kaku,
Menengok ke belakang, ah! betapa lama sudah!
Mengapa kau yang tolol
Karena musim dingin ke dunia -larikan diri?
Dunia itu pintu gerbang
Ke seribu gurun bisu dan dingin!
Yang kau kehilangan, takkan berhenti di mana pun jua.
Kini kau berdiri pucat,
Terkutuk untuk ngembarai musim salju,
Yang mencari langit yang lebih dingin selalu.
Terbanglah, burung, berkoak
Lagumu dalam nada-burung-gurun!-
Umpetkanlah, kau yang tolol itu,
Hatimu yang berdarah di dalam es dan ejekan!
Burung-burung gagak berteriak
Dan terbang ke kota dengan mengumbang:
Salju akan turun segera
Celakalah dia yang tak berkampung halaman!
The crows scream
And flying into town with the buzz:
The snow will fall soon-
Be happy is he who is now still having homeland!
Now you’re standing rigidly,
Looking at back, ah! How long already!
Why are you an idiot
Because winter in the world- escape?
The world is gate
To a thousand of dumb and cold deserts!
Which you are lose, will not stop anywhere.
Now you’re standing palely,
to be cursed to wander the winter,
Whom are looking for a cooler sky always.
Fly, bird, sing
Your song in tone-desert-bird! –
Hide it, you’re a fool,
Your bleeding hearts is in the ice and ridicule!
The crows scream
And flying into town with the buzz:
The snow will come down soon
Woe to him who doesn’t have homeland!
And allowed me to interpret it, understand it passionately:
Loneliness came out wildly, heavier. Its echoes buried deeply, break down, stirring the space with the whole contents vomiting out. The silence is tradition buried by passing periods. It began to move to refuse burdensome all over the time. The soul continues to boil, dim shadows stalking from behind; covered history of all memories, like the blessed ashes is sown.
Or from an ancient inland toward the city that is congested by each voice, until incapable to distinguish. At there, the cold is isolated, really pressed by silence and muffled by peculiarity that is not as bright as what he felt in the middle of the path. He missed to have cold sweat, past flash of light poked into his chest, and then his wings grew back to get the sun:
Blossomed to fulfill the heartbeat in the tube of plan. Remembered to the land flies the dust, stones waits the time of melancholy solitude. He surrendered the whole ability of reversing to smell the odorous air of night to it. The noon watches white, in thickness earn the eternal, which is the belief.
The rebellion comes from inaction, have been foolish and forget to understand the fate. Then the consciousness straightened, like air blow in great strength, after penetrated through holes of pores. Past dreams is counted, inch by inch was born revealed. The veil of the season of sneer is opened, the weather of curse. It is ingested by the heavy of run, punches decadence and pressing the self to be mature on the prime point.
The one who gives the bait would be beaten by deceitful, squeezed by the power, but, how charcoal saved embers of the past does. Fatuity is the result of inequality, or fallen by his own there. The whole strength of despair cuts anxiety, the seriousness boiled up from increasing vigilance to the adulthood. It crushes pettiness, selfishness crushed before the face of humiliation.
Nietzsche questioned him self in front of the gray evening, gray dawn, gray midday, red twilight chopped the idols of statue. The values are mixed and faded like a magician behind the scenes. And also the bright of compliment is requited such as mirror reflects, by the nimble feet of teaser, lost in the question has curse.
World-door-door stretched to the distant nature, to the dying trees left by the great idea of life. Its roots are dry uprooted and withered fully dust of the fire of desolate, weakly breath pressed. How cold over the century of silence, curious haunts footprints of the wanderer, until it’s bleeding but does not felt. What he obtained on the road he keeps it tight, tamp the belief; a lump of ice is known its heat on the hand.
Whatever is disengaged always worry, such as the flower grows in the cloud from the story of father, along with the rain the children cried. Shocked by a great destiny of separation of all ownership, which is the feeling. That is, he was plagued with the search value, dazed in the midst of silence, on the desire that always young.
Who stood palely from the curse of the season of quest in front of the door, will see the road buried under avalanche. The law could not be controlled, unrecognizable, except the meaning of bad luck befell. It is caught by impasse of moody, no hot lights to melt, the pulling is frozen unless the blackened lump.
Which is forced out through the mounds of snow with light jacket. Or his conviction is sheet by sheet decreasing and falling repeatedly. Meat of anger has not located, tarnished the color of personal charm. Until one time, weak breath floated to the end without marked on the healthy.
Dying twigs which is as hot throat makes no sense. He would get the stones and scrub it for the presence of a piece of breath, sparks that is as fast as the sucking of thin smoke flew. Whether desperate or the final seriousness, the prayers or slander. Clearly, it is deeper than death, more cruel than what has felt, painfully of time left. Colder at the tops of dying, his hopes was just keep on breathing on the heavy pressure, screams sank to the chest, the deepest niche saved the noble stones.
The values of solids breath of short air wriggled, wiped passion expelled by the mouth-powered. Hoarse voice shrill screamed from loneliness incisions. Flaps entire wing of will to scold situation was flied. Strong memory is heaped, on a visiting of developing a loved.
Zarathustra became an address, the entire body lightened by the treasure of differentiators; aspersion on the cretin, decay, the barren value of stupidity, blind affirmation, the servant of truth which is stagnate similar river stopped to flow, its water is deflated by the change of time, it’s just left the gutter.
Berate softness on the extreme dilatory, by pressing a sense of shame. Self-critical effort deeply is the trying to freeze reflection of disappointment. Mocked nature of losers who dramatizes the condition in the same circle of torpor.
Nietzsche interpreted the seriousness and at one time laughed. Spurted happy tears, a luxurious touched, after he immersed himself in ignorance skinning diatribe. The violent music tears apart coquettish achievement with the power of revenge, above his love to the motherland. Similar strains of composer Mussorgsky (1839-1881) in his composition “Night on Bald Mountain” that was making previous classical tradition to be in disorder.
It is flock of blackbird shouted loudly. Confronted the cloud and confused the changed season after entering the situation. Break values that are definitely highest merely on desires, purify grains of humane for leading the most personal self:
The perfect ear is clogged by full of love, Sharp eyes is closed by deep jealousy. The nature behind the consciousness is raised, common dance incarnated to be the battle. Gently bending is saved the deadly dagger. Great anger performs laughter, and provisions to be playing.
To the one who knows the address given a kiss, it’s probably worth it. After forgotten is felt, bitterness completed understanding. Or misses the promised land, the spiritual reconciles the mature problem, the music of rebellion is free from the loneliness, aimed to the silence that is as clear as splashes of light. The most polite opinions do not dredge the revenue, except the great eternity for all. At there it keeps to be updated, if you do not want to be hurt in silence which has no intention of depth.
The one who feels given the carefulness of view, there is no enduring by millions of change, have their own music and always haunting. Shaded under roof spread the nets of possibility, since good intentions was as homecoming.
September 9, 2010