‘ESSE’ ~The Hinges Has to Cling On Tight... For The Flung Wide-Open Doors Of Freedom: On Essential Existentialism
"Esse" ~(Translated Version- 239 word count)
I looked at that face, dumbfounded. The lights of métro stations flew by; I didn’t notice them. What can be done, if our sight lacks absolute power to devour objects ecstatically, in an instant, leaving nothing more than the void of an ideal form, a sign like a hieroglyph simplified from the drawing of an animal or bird? A slightly snub nose, a high brow with sleekly brushed-back hair, the line of the chin – but why isn’t the power of sight absolute? – and in a whiteness tinged with pink two sculpted holes, containing a dark, lustrous lava. To absorb that face but to have it simultaneously against the background of all spring boughs, walls, waves, in its weeping, its laughter, moving it back fifteen years, or ahead thirty. To have. It is not even a desire. Like a butterfly, a fish, the stem of a plant, only more mysterious. And so it befell me that after so many attempts at naming the world, I am able only to repeat, harping on one string, the highest, the unique avowal beyond which no power can attain: I am, she is. Shout, blow the trumpets, make thousands-strong marches, leap, rend your clothing, repeating only: is!
She got out at Raspail. I was left behind with the immensity of existing things. A sponge, suffering because it cannot saturate itself; a river, suffering because reflections of clouds and trees are not clouds and trees.
By Czeslaw Milosz from “The Collected Poems 1931-1987”, 1988
Translated by Czeslaw Milosz and Robert Pinsky
"Esse" ~TRANSLATION: (my Version) 248 Word Count
idee'- fixed, like
a possessed aficionado...
I drained unto her
all others... consume...
in a blackout... to their
calling black holes..
lightning horses gallop- to
serially chasing light blocks: the
stations flown by- as dizzy
carousels just before,
now vanish traceless
…channelling in visions,
balloon the bloody tangled veins
to an exploding streamline.. as to
the gripping electric ganglionic
st(r)ings… of a primal drumming
bosom in banging echoes...
of a vascular… screams silent...
between Buddha soulcore…
& gazing gazelle frame...
the grand scheme of things! oh, not a thing...
hungering visions... how
deficiently dangles in the inedible
lies... of miraging librations
of skeletal Truth, in an
afloat surreal succulence
and, I go on...
a hyperbolic graphic of her
...but, why these facultative visions
just be not an obstinate Truth?
and, a gauzy reticulating
arteries are her georgette
cheeks, with twin~ tinkling
starry anime constellatory
to fully digest
such beatific panorama over
varifold Nature in its emoting
Times… either forward or
backward, is quite rapturously
a mind-boggling impossibility...
is unimaginable, like a blade
of grass, a ladybird
contemplates countlessly in
desperate deconstructions… to
an epiphany- an unconquerable
universality: bindingly unbound
i, she... each one each now...
now is all
..as droplets over lotus leaves...
as she left at Raspail, I was
haplessly drowning in the apparitional
sea of lavishing apparencies... ...thrown
out in simultaneity... a fish in throes...
breathing the Skies of One Truth