Cách mạng 4.0 đã và đang mang đến sự thay đổi lớn trong đời sống của người dân Việt Nam. Sự tiện dụng của Grab, khả năng cập nhật 24/24 của Facebook, hay sự đa dạng về nội dung của YouTube thúc đẩy xã hội tiến tới thời đại mới của khởi nghiệp điện toán (Vuong, 2019). Ở đó, mỗi cá nhân đều có cơ hội để khởi nghiệp thông qua sự kết nối đến khắp mọi nơi trên thế (...) giới của Internet và sức mạnh tính toán nằm gọn trong long bàn tay. Hiện nay, sản xuất video trên YouTube, cho thuê nhà qua AirBnb, hay chạy xe cho Grab tạo ra công việc có khả năng tạo lợi nhuận cho người tham gia thị trường, dù là người lao động, hay tổ chức cung ứng dịch vụ. (shrink)

Giải quyết biến đổi khí hậu và ô nhiễm môi trường đang và sẽ là thách thức lớn của nhân loại trong thế kỷ 21. Con người không còn nhiều thời gian để sửa chữa, phục hồi đưa hệ sinh thái môi trường (tự nhiên) trở về trạng thái an toàn. Trong khi các nỗ lực trong thời gian qua chưa thực sự hiệu quả thì COP26 mở ra cơ hội lớn để nhân loại tiến gần đến mục tiêu kiềm (...) chế nhiệt độ của trái đất không vượt quá 1.5 độ C. Mặc dù Việt Nam cùng với 146 quốc gia trên thế giới đã có cam kết mạnh mẽ nhất trong việc giảm phát thải vào năm 2050, tuy nhiên việc cụ thể hóa cam kết thông qua các giải pháp sáng tạo là rất quan trọng. Sử dụng (áp dụng, vận dụng) hệ sáng tạo 3D và nguyên lý bán dẫn giá trị, tác giả đề xuất hệ sinh thái “giải pháp trụ cột” cần thực hiện gồm có tăng cường thông tin, truyền thông, nghiên cứu khoa học về môi trường (biến đổi khí hậu, ô nhiễm môi trường...); xây dựng, chuyển đổi và nâng cao văn hóa và môi trường; đẩy mạnh phát triển kinh tế gia tăng phúc lợi; xây dựng (chuyển đổi) lớp doanh nhân có văn hóa, trách nhiệm môi trường; tăng cường mở rộng sự hợp tác quốc tế về mọi mặt đặc biệt là trong lĩnh vực kinh tế, truyền thông và khoa học; và thực thi các giải pháp nêu trên một cách kỷ luật. (shrink)

Central limit theorem for the functional of jump Markov process. Nguyễn Văn Hữu, Vương Quân Hoàng và Trần Minh Ngọc. Báo cáo: Hội nghị toàn quốc lần thứ III “Xác suất - Thống kê: Nghiên cứu, ứng dụng và giảng dạy” (tr. 34). Ba Vì, Hà Tây, ngày 12-14 tháng 05 năm 2005. Viện Toán học / Trường Đại học Khoa học tự nhiên / Đại học Quốc gia Hà Nội.

Hồ Mạnh Tùng và Hồ Mạnh Toàn đều là các nhà nghiên cứu trẻ trong lĩnh vực khoa học xã hội ở độ tuổi dưới 30. Mặc dù mới tham gia nghiên cứu khoa học chưa lâu, nhưng 2 anh em nhà họ Hồ đã có thành tích khoa học ấn tượng.

Cảm xúc là yếu tố cơ bản thúc đẩy con người đưa ra quyết định và xử lý thông tin. Sợ hãi là một trong những cảm xúc phổ biến nhất ảnh hưởng đến hành vi của nhà đầu tư cá nhân trên thị trường chứng khoán. Mặc dù nhiều nghiên cứu đã được thực hiện để khám phá tác động của nỗi sợ hãi đối với hiệu quả đầu tư và hành vi giao dịch của nhà đầu tư (...) cá nhân, nhưng vẫn còn rất ít thông tin về các yếu tố ảnh hưởng đến nỗi sợ hãi của nhà đầu tư cá nhân trong thời kỳ thị trường sụt giảm (hoặc những giai đoạn cực kỳ biến động). Vì thế, nghiên cứu này được thực hiện để tìm hiểu liệu các nguồn thông tin ảnh hưởng đến quyết định đầu tư của nhà đầu tư có ảnh hưởng đến sự sợ hãi của họ khi khủng hoảng xảy ra hay không. Nghiên cứu đã sử dụng phương pháp phân tích Bayesian Mindsponge Framework (BMF) trên bộ dữ liệu từ 1526 nhà đầu tư Trung Quốc và Việt Nam. Kết quả nghiên cứu chỉ ra rằng các nhà đầu tư tiếp cận các loại thông tin khác nhau khi đưa ra quyết định đầu tư sẽ ảnh hưởng đến tần suất phản ứng sợ hãi khác nhau. Cụ thể, các nhà đầu tư tham khảo thông tin từ chuyên gia hoặc tự phân tích khi đưa ra quyết định đầu tư ít bị đóng băng (biểu hiện của tâm lý sợ hãi) hơn trong thời kỳ thị trường sụt giảm. Ngược lại, những người đưa ra quyết định đầu tư dựa trên thông tin từ người quen hay bạn bè và trực giác sẽ bị đóng băng thường xuyên hơn. Kết quả nghiên cứu này giúp gợi ý nhà đầu tư cá nhân nên trang bị cho mình các kiến thức về tài chính cũng như tham khảo các ý kiến chuyên gia trên thị trường, hoặc những nguồn thông tin đáng tin cậy, khi đưa ra quyết định đầu tư. Bên cạnh đó, cơ quan quản lý thị trường cần có hoạt động phổ cập kiến thức về thị trường chứng khoán, hạn chế ảnh hưởng của các kênh thông tin không chính thống, và khuyến khích nhà đầu tư ít kinh nghiệm mua chứng chỉ quỹ của các quỹ đầu tư. (shrink)

İSNAD, sosyal ve beşeri bilimler alanında hazırlanan çalışmalarda kullanılmak üzere Türkiye merkezli olarak geliştirilen akademik yazım ve kaynak gösterme sistemidir. “Kaynak gösterme”, bilginin bilimselliğinin bir gereği olduğu kadar fikrî mülkiyet ve telif haklarına saygının da bir gereğidir. İstifade edilen bir kaynağın araştırmada belirtilmemesi yayın etiği suçudur (intihal / plagiarism). Bu sebeple ortaya konulan bilimsel bir çalışmanın kaynakları, başka araştırmacılar tarafından tekrar ulaşılabilir ve kontrol edilebilir olacak şekilde bibliyografik bileşenleri ile doğru ve eksiksiz olarak yazılmak durumundadır. İSNAD atıf sistemi ise Türkiye (...) merkezli olarak Antropoloji, Arkeoloji ve Sanat Tarihi, Coğrafya, Dil ve Edebiyat, Eğitim, Felsefe, Halkbilimi, Hukuk, İktisadi ve İdari Bilimler, İlahiyat, Psikoloji, Sanat, Sosyal Hizmetler, Sosyoloji ve Tarih gibi sosyal ve beşeri bilimler alanında görülen atıf ve kaynak gösterme gereksinimlerinin giderilmesi amacıyla geliştirilmiştir.İSNAD atıf sistemi; akademik bir yazının başlığının nasıl belirleneceği, özetinin hangi bilgileri içermesi gerektiği, anahtar kavramların nasıl seçileceği, başlıklandırma formatının nasıl olması gerektiği, içerdiği tablo ve şekillerin nasıl oluşturulacağı, çalışmada kullanılan Arapça, Farsça, İngilizce ve diğer eser adlarının ve müellif isimlerinin nasıl yazılacağı, tarih ve yüzyılların hangi şekilde gösterileceği, yayın etiği kapsamında nelere dikkat edilmesi gerektiği, istifade edilen kaynak eserden dolaylı veya doğrudan nasıl alıntı yapılacağı, atıf yapılan kaynakların metin içinde veya dipnotta nasıl yazılacağı ve kaynakçanın nasıl oluşturulacağı gibi akademik yazımla ilgili bilinmesi ve uygulanması gerekli tüm kuralları içermektedir.Sözlükte “dayanmak, yaslanmak, itimat etmek” manasındaki “sened” kökünden türeyen isnad, “temellendirmek, dayamak; sözü söyleyenine kadar ulaştırmak, bir sözün, bir rivayetin geliş yolunu haber vermek, ilk kaynağa kadar götürmek” anlamlarına gelmektedir. “Sözünün senedi nedir?” örneğinde olduğu gibi sözün kaynağını sorgulamak ve belirtmek için kullanılmaktadır. Bu anlamda isnad, akademik yazımda atıf veya alıntı yapılan kaynağı belirtmek için geliştirilen atıf sistemine, Türkiye merkezli yayın yapan ilahiyat alan dergilerinde görev üstlenen editörlerin çoğunluğunun (%70,4) kararı ile ad olarak seçilmiştir.İSNAD atıf sistemi, 2017-2018 yıllarında “İlahiyat Atıf Sistemi” olarak geliştirildi ve ilk versiyonu 12/03/2018 tarihinde matbu ve online olarak yayınlanarak ücretsiz olarak kullanıma sunuldu. Sistemin Türkiye’de ve Türk Cumhuriyetlerinde ilahiyat alan dergileri arasında ilgi görmesi ve ilahiyat alanı dışında da kullanımına dair talepler gelmesi üzerine İSNAD’ın ikinci versiyonu, tüm sosyal bilimler alanında kullanılabilecek şekilde geliştirildi ve Eylül 2018 itibari ile hizmete sunuldu. İSNAD artık sosyal ve beşeri bilimlerin tüm alanlarında kullanılabilmektedir.İSNAD atıf sistemi, Dr. Abdullah Demir tarafından Sivas Cumhuriyet Üniversitesi Rektörlüğü’nce desteklenen RGD-015 numaralı “Ulusal İlahiyat Atıf Dizini Projesi” kapsamında, Sivas Cumhuriyet Üniversitesi Dini İlimler Uygulama ve Araştırma Merkezi (DİMER) bünyesinde, akademik yayıncılık alanında uzman öğretim üyelerinin ve hakemli dergi editörlerinin görüş, öneri ve değerlendirmeleri alınarak geliştirildi. Yaygın atıf biçimlerinden APA, Amerika Psikoloji Derneği (American Psychology Association) ve Chicago ise Modern Diller Derneği (Modern Languages Association) tarafından geliştirilerek satışa sunulmuştur.İSNAD; Türkiye merkezli olarak geliştirilen, kullanıma sunulduğu 12/03/2018 tarihinden kısa bir süre sonra hakemli akademik dergi ve kitap yayıncıları ile Fakülte Dekanlıkları (mezuniyet tezlerinin yazımında) ve Sosyal Bilimler Enstitüsü Müdürlüklerince (Yüksek Lisans ve doktora tezlerinin yazımında) kullanımı benimsenen, Web of Science / Clarivate Analytics, TÜBİTAK TR Dizin ve TÜBİTAK DergiPark gibi akademik yayıncılıkla ilgili indeks ve dergi platformlarınca kaynak gösterme biçimlerinden biri olarak sistem entegrasyonu yapılan, Zotero, Mendeley ve EndNote gibi dünya çapında kullanılan kütüphane ve referans düzenleme yazılımlarına uygun şablonları hazırlanan ve ücretsiz olarak kullanıma sunulan ilk ve tek yerli-milli kaynak gösterme sistemidir ve bu açıdan oldukça önem arz etmektedir. Türkçe’nin bir bilim dili haline gelmesi hedefleniyorsa, bu hedefe ulaşmada, Türkçe olarak hazırlanan bir bilimsel yazım ve kaynak gösterme sisteminin bulunması da bir zorunluluktur. Ortaöğretim ve üniversite öğrencilerinin Türkçe olarak hazırlanan ve ücretsiz olarak kullanıma sunulan İSNAD atıf sistemini öğrenmeleri ve kullanmaları, aslı İngilizce olan ve satın alma imkanı da elde edemeyecekleri sistemleri öğrenmelerine kıyasla daha elverişlidir ve kolaydır. Türkçe konuşan ülkelerin bilim insanlarının bildiri, makale, kitap, proje ve benzeri bilimsel çalışmalarını İSNAD atıf sistemini kullanarak hazırlamaları, Türkçenin ortak bir bilim dili olarak güçlenmesine katkı sağlayacaktır. İSNAD atıf sistemi ile Türkiye’de ve Türki Cumhuriyetlerde; Antropoloji, Arkeoloji, Coğrafya, Dil ve Edebiyat, Felsefe, Halkbilimi, Hukuk, İktisadi ve İdari Bilimler, İlahiyat, Müzik, Psikoloji, Sanat Tarihi, Sosyal Hizmetler, Sosyoloji ve Tarih gibi sosyal ve beşeri bilimler alanında hazırlanan yayınlarda ortak bir atıf sisteminin kullanımını sağlamak hedeflenmektedir. İSNAD atıf sisteminin kullanımı, Türkçe konuşan ülkelerde sosyal ve beşeri bilimler alanında kaynak göstermede standartlaşmayı sağlayarak atıf ve etki değeri tespitine olanak sağlayacak ve Türk dünyası arasında bilimsel iletişimi kolaylaştıracaktır.İSNAD atıf sistemi, sosyal ve beşeri bilimler alanında araştırma yapan ve yazı kaleme alan öğrenciler, akademisyenler ve yazarlar ile bu alanda yayın yapan kurum ve kuruluşların hizmetine sunulmuştur. Sosyal bilimler alanında yayın yapan birçok dergi İSNAD atıf sistemini kullanmaya başlamıştır. Lisans mezuniyet tezi, yüksek lisans tezi ve doktora tezlerinin yazımında İSNAD atıf sisteminin kullanılmasını öngören ve bunu tez yazım kılavuzlarına dahil eden üniversitelerin sayısı artmaktadır. Ayrıca ulusal ve uluslararası sempozyum ve kongre düzenleyen birçok kurum ve kuruluş, katılımcıların bildirilerini İSNAD atıf sistemine uygun olarak hazırlamalarını talep etmeye başlamıştır. Ücretsiz olarak kullanıma sunulan bu sistem, kullanıcı dostu arayüzü ve kaynak gösterme yazılım eklentileri ile hızla kabul görmekte ve benimsenmektedir. Öğrenciler, yazarlar, araştırmacılar ve akademisyenler; İSNAD’ın EndNote, Zotero ve Mendeley gibi kaynak gösterme yazılım eklentileri sayesinde daha kolay, daha hızlı ve hatasız olarak “atıf ve kaynak gösterme” işlemlerini yapabilmektedirler. Bu sisteminin Türkiye ve Türk Cumhuriyetlerinde kullanımı yaygınlaşmaya devam etmektedir. www.isnadsistemi.org. (shrink)

Nghiên cứu sự phát triển của Nho giáo từ thời kỳ Cổ đại đến khi học thuyết của Khổng Tử ra đời, giới thiệu những bộ sách, môn đồ, tư tưởng của Khổng Tử qua các thời kỳ phát triển của đất nước Trung Hoa. Giới thiệu quá trình phát triển của Nho giáo ở Việt Nam. Mỗi thời kỳ đều gắn với tên tuổi của các nhà Nho hoặc giáo phái lớn.

TCCS - Việt Nam đang đứng trước ngưỡng cửa thập niên thứ hai, thế kỷ XXI. Tuy vậy, mốc thời gian không quan trọng bằng những đổi thay chóng mặt của quá trình quốc tế hóa đời sống kinh tế, và những biến đổi sâu sắc nó sẽ mang lại. Quá trình ấy, ngay bây giờ, lại được phóng đại qua lăng kính của những biến động toàn cầu do khủng hoảng kinh tế - tài chính 2007 - 2009, điều (...) có thể dẫn tới những biến đổi lớn về cấu trúc kinh tế nhân loại, cũng như diễn tiến địa - chính trị khắp nơi trên thế giới. (shrink)

Hiện tại, hệ thống JSTOR đã có một giao diện web rất thân thiện. Họ cũng đã tăng cường các mục thông tin bài vở phổ thông, có tính cách phổ biến cập nhật thông tin khoa học. Nhiều thông tin khai thác từ lịch sử dữ liệu hàn lâm cũng rất lý thú, nhờ vào hệ thống lớn tích lũy lâu ngày của 2600 tạp chí hàn lâm hàng đầu, từ 1200 nhà xuất bản của 57 quốc gia.

Giới trí thức (giới tinh hoa) có vai trò quan trọng vào quá trình xây dựng và phát triển đất nước. Và điều quan trọng là trí thức đóng góp vào sự “thức tỉnh” xã hội [1]. Trí thức mạnh thì khoa học mạnh, khoa học mạnh thì dân trí tăng cao (khai/tăng dân trí), dân trí cao thì đất nước thịnh cường văn minh (hậu dân sinh). Muốn có tầng lớp trí thức mạnh thì phải tìm ra được trí (...) thức thật và sau đó tạo điều kiện phù hợp để họ phát triển, đóng góp/cống hiến cho đất nước. (shrink)

İslami finans, klasik iktisadi düzenin temel taşı sayılabilecek faizi finansal sistemin dışında bırakarak adil, kapsayıcı ve sömürüden uzak alternatif bir finansal sistem olarak ortaya çıkmıştır. Sistemin temelinde faizsizlik ve işlemlerin İslam hukukuna uygun şekilde gerçekleştirilmesi yatmaktadır. İslami finans bugün dünya çapında bir finansal büyüklüğe ulaşmış olup bu finansal yapının en büyük birimini de katılım bankaları oluşturmaktadır. Ancak tüm ayrışma çabalarına rağmen katılım bankaları, hem konvansiyonel bankalarla aynı hukuki çerçevede hareket etme zorunluluğu hem de aynı piyasada rekabet etme durumu nedeniyle zaman (...) zaman benzeşmeye çokça yaklaşmaktadır. Bu benzeşme noktalarından biri de katılım bankalarının kullandırdıkları kredilerin geri ödeme sorunları ile karşılaştığı alanlarda gerçekleşmektedir. Bugün katılım bankaları sorunlu kredilerinin çözümü noktasında konvansiyonel bankalara çok benzeyen aksiyonlar almaktadır ki bunlardan biri de sorunlu kredi dosyalarının varlık yönetim şirketlerine satılmasıdır. Bu durum sistemin “İslami” oluşunu tehdit etmektedir. Bu çalışmada ülkemizdeki katılım bankalarında sorunlu krediler ve katılım bankalarının varlık yönetim şirketleri ile ilişkileri incelenmiş olup İslami finansın ana akım finansal sistem olarak kullanıldığı bazı ülkeler ile çeşitli sosyoekonomik kıstaslar açısından ülkemizle benzeşen bazı ülkelerde sorunlu kredilerin nasıl çözümlendiği incelenerek ülkemizdeki uygulamalara yönelik öneriler sunmak amaçlanmıştır. (shrink)

Within the research community, it is generally accepted that consent processes for research should be culturally appropriate and tailored to the context, yet researchers continue to grapple with what valid consent means within specific stakeholder groups. In this study, we explored the consent practices and attitudes regarding essential information required for the consent process within hospital-based trial communities from four referral hospitals in Vietnam. We collected surveys from and conducted semi-structured interviews with study physicians, study nurses, ethics committee members, and (...) study participants and family members regarding their experiences of participating in research, their perspectives toward research, and their views about various elements of the consent process. In our findings, we describe three interrelated themes related to the consent process: words and regulation; reimbursement, suspicions, and joining; and responsibilities. In general, stakeholders had highly varied perspectives of nghiên cứu and researchers used varying levels of detail regarding all aspects of the study in the consent process to build trust with and/or promote potential research participants’ choices about taking part in research. Findings additionally highlight how researchers felt that offering financial reimbursements in a hospital setting, where payment for services was routine, would be unfamiliar to participants and could raise suspicions about the research. Participants, however, focused their discussions on reimbursement or alternative reasons for joining the study, such as health related benefits or altruism. Finally, participants often relied on their physician to help them decide about joining a study or not. Further research is needed to understand how researchers and participants make sense of and practice consent, and how that impacts participants’ decision-making about research participation. To promote valid consent within this context, it is important to engage with hospital-based trial communities as a whole. The data from this study will inform future research on consent, guide the revisions of consent related policies within our research sites and point to several larger issues surrounding researcher-participant expectations, communication, and trust. (shrink)

Öz: Bu makale Neolitik döneme ait ve Anadolu’da inşa edilen ilk tapınak olma özelliğine sahip Göbeklitepe’yi ele almaktadır. Arkeologlara göre burası insanlığın en eski tapınaklarından biridir. Göbeklitepe, yerleşik hayattan ve tarımsal üretimden yoksun olan avcı-toplayıcı toplulukların dinsel inanışları hakkında çok önemli bilgiler sunar. Bu tapınak, arkaik insanların dinden ve inançtan yoksun ilkel bir hayat sürmediklerini, aksine bir inanca sahip olduklarını, inançlarını yaşamak için tapınak inşa ettiklerini ve zengin bir dinî sembol kullandıklarını göstermektedir. Göbeklitepe, insanların yerleşik hayata geçip kendisi için konut (...) yapmadan, hayvanları evcilleştirmeden ve tarımsal üretime başlamadan önce dinî ihtiyaçlarını karşılamak için tapınak yaptığının bir göstergesidir. Özet: Bu makale Neolitik döneme ait ve Anadolu’da inşa edilen ilk tapınak olma özelliğine sahip Göbeklitepe’yi ele almaktadır. Şanlıurfa yakınlarında 1995 yılında başlatılan arkeolojik kazılar, insanlık tarihine bakış açımızı değiştirmiş ve geçmiş hakkında sahip olduğumuz bilgilerin doğruluğunu test etme imkânı sunmuştur. Göbeklitepe, arkaik insanın inanç ve düşünce dünyası hakkındaki bilgilerimizin gerçeği yansıtmadığını göstermiştir. Yaşamını avcı-toplayıcı olarak sağlamaya çalışan, din ve soyut düşünceden yoksun olduğu düşünülen, çanak-çömlek yapmasını bile bilmeyen, tarımı ve yerleşik hayatı keşfetmemiş insanların yoğun ve zengin bir sembolik anlatıma sahip tapınaklar yapması, bilim adamlarını derinden etkilemiştir. Toplamda 20 adet olan ve çapı 10 -30 metre arasında değişen dairesel yapılardan oluşan Göbeklitepe tapınaklarının en ilgi çekici unsuru, T biçiminde olan ve üzerinde soyut sembol ve hayvan kabartmalarını bulunduran dikili taşlardır. Dairesel yapının merkezinde iki adet ve çevresinde 10 ile 12 adet arasında T biçiminde yaklaşık 200 tane dikili taş bulunmaktadır. Bu T biçimindeki dikili taşlar üzerinde kapsamlı bir inceleme yapıldığında ve kadim Anadolu ve Mezopotamya uygarlıklarının dinsel inanışları ve tapınak kültü göz önünde bulundurulduğunda, bu dikili taşların tanrıları sembolize ettiği anlaşılmaktadır. Göbeklitepe, çocukları veya daha küçük dereceli tanrılar tarafından çevrelenen ve bu tanrıların oluşturduğu çemberin merkezinde yer alan tanrı ve tanrıça çiftinin oluşturduğu tanrılar panteonunun kutsal alanıdır. Göbeklitepe bir tapınak olmanın ötesinde karanlıkta kalmış bir inanç sisteminin en önemli temsilcisi olarak karşımızda durmaktadır. Yazılı kaynakların bulunmadığı ve sınırlı arkeolojik verilerin elde edilebildiği Neolitik Dönemin erken evresine ait olan Göbeklitepe, bu dönemde yaşamış arkaik insanın inanç ve düşünce dünyasını bize göstermektedir. Bu megalitik yapının yapısal ve biçimsel özellikleri, arkaik insanın sanıldığı gibi ilkel olmadığını kanıtlamaktadır. Göbeklitepe, dinin doğuşu ve gelişimi konusunda çok önemli bilgiler sunmaktadır. Özellikle evrimci ve pozitivist bakış açılarıyla oluşturulmuş ve dinin büyü, ruh, korku, atalara tapma gibi basit ve asılsız yapılardan doğup zamanla karmaşık ve kurumsal inançlar biçimine dönüştüğünü öne süren teorilerin gerçeği yansıtmadığını göstermiştir. Araştırmacılar, avcı-toplayıcı toplulukların yerleşik hayata ve tarımsal üretime geçtikten sonra toplumsal yaşamla birlikte bazı sorunlarla karşılaştıklarını ve bu sorunlara çözüm arayışının dinlerin doğuşunu hazırladığını düşünüyorlardı. Diğer bir ifade ile kurumsal dinler, karmaşık toplumsal yaşamın bir ürünü ve sonucu olarak görülüyordu. Fakat Göbeklitepe dinsel inanışların düşünülenden çok daha eski dönemlerde, kurumsal olarak ve basit olmayan formlarda bulunduğunu göstermiştir. Göbeklitepe’nin, bilinen en eski ve ilk tapınak yapısı olduğu iddia edilmektedir. Kendisinden önce bilinen antik tapınaklardan en az 5000 yıl eski olan bu megalitik yapı, uygarlığın gelişiminde dinsel inanışların ne kadar etkili ve önemli olduğunu açık bir şekilde göstermektedir. Uzun yıllar kazı başkanlığını yapmış olan arkeolog Klaus Schmidt, Göbeklitepe’nin ortaya çıkmasıyla birlikte “.. önce tapınak kuruldu sonra şehir. ” sözleriyle, insanoğlunun genlerinde bulunan inanma ihtiyacının ne kadar öncelikli olduğunu ifade etmiştir. Göbeklitepe insanoğlunun konut, tarım ve çanak çömlek gibi temel ihtiyaçlardan önce görkemli ve karmaşık tapınaklar yaptığını ve bunun arkaik insan topluluklarının güçlü inanç duygusundan kaynaklandığını göstermiştir. İnsanın genlerinde bulunan inanma ihtiyacı insana her şeyden önce tapınak yapmayı ilham etmiştir. Göbeklitepe ile temsil edilen inanç sistemi ve düşünce dünyasının ne kadar zengin ve etkili olduğunu, aynı bölgede en az 5000 yıl sonra ortaya çıkan Anadolu ve Mezopotamya uygarlıkları üzerindeki etkisinden anlayabiliriz. Bu uygarlıkların tapınak yapıları ve dinsel inanışları, bu megalitik yapı ile dikkate değer bir biçimde uyuşmaktadır. Bu uygarlıkların karanlıkta kalmış yönlerini ortaya çıkarmada, Göbeklitepe kaçırılmayacak bir fırsat sunmaktadır. Bu megalitik yapı ortaya çıktığında büyük ses getirmiş ve bilim insanlarının ilgisini çekmiştir. Hakkında yazılı ve görsel basında çok sayıda haberin çıktığı bu tapınak kompleksinin, Aden bahçesi, Babil Asma Bahçelerinin kalıntısı, Şaman tapınağı ve uzaylıların merkezi olduğu iddiaları ortaya atılmıştır. Göbeklitepe üzerinde yapılan arkeolojik kazıların ilerlemesi ve onun hakkında daha fazla bilgiye ulaşılması, onun bir ritüel merkezi olarak tapınak olduğunu göstermiştir. Göbeklitepe’nin yapısal ve biçimsel özellikleri, bu yapının her şeyden önce bir tapınak olduğunu göstermiştir. Gerek dikili taşlardan oluşan dairesel yapıları ve gerekse yerleşim yerlerinden uzak yüksek bir tepede bulunması bu düşünceyi güçlendirmektedir. Göbeklitepe’yi avcı-toplayıcı toplulukların ibadet ettikleri, tanrılara kurbanlar sundukları, yılın belirli dönemlerinde dinî festival ve şölenler gerçekleştirdikleri, tanrıların yaşadığı kutsal mekânlar olarak gördükleri ve kutsalı tecrübe ettikleri bir tapınak olarak düşünmek daha doğru bir yaklaşımdır. Göbeklitepe’nin, tarih boyunca inanç merkezi olarak kalmış ve peygamberler şehri olarak bilinen Şanlıurfa’da ortaya çıkması ülkemiz için önemli bir ekonomik ve kültürel fırsat oluşturmuştur. Anadolu’nun ne kadar kadim ve zengin bir kültürel dokuya sahip olduğunu kanıtlayan bu megalitik yapı, ortaya çıktığı günden beri birçok yerli ve yabancı araştırmacının akınına uğramıştır. Bilimsel literatürün en eski ve ilk tapınağı olan Göbeklitepe, arkaik insanın günümüz insanına miras olarak bıraktığı ve insanlığın ilk dönem sırlarını taşıyan gizemli bir tapınak kompleksidir. (shrink)

Star ting from the as ser tion about the no - tion of Com ple xity as not being pre sent in Phi lo - sophy re cog ni zed as such, alt hough pre sent in all thin kers that have de ve lo ped a com plex vi sion of the world, a cha rac te ri za tion is put for ward about why clas si cal Scien ce ha..

La tesis de este artículo es que el mal banal se refiere a una conciencia deformada. Las obras de la misma Arendt dan lugar a una comprensión así del mal banal. Aunque distintos autores han subrayado la importancia de la conciencia en la formación de la banalidad del mal, ninguno ha optado por definirla de esta manera hasta donde se ve. Tampoco lo hizo Arendt, según se sabe. La filósofa alemana liga pensamiento y conciencia; entiende a esta como un subproducto (...) de aquel. Por eso no puede abandonarse la otra definición del mal banal, aquella que lo relaciona con la incapacidad para pensar. Arendt privilegia esta definición y no concluye la otra. Sin embargo, el pensamiento, tal como lo entiende Arendt, en su función de apartar al hombre del mal y juzgar los hechos de la experiencia, viene a semejarse a la conciencia, ya que esta tiene también este cometido. Además, la conciencia opera de manera dialógica, al modo como Arendt plantea que lo hace el pensar. Arendt no aclara cómo el pensar conduce al hombre a la verdad moral sobre sus actos, ni cómo aquel puede desvirtuarse. Tampoco indaga a profundidad en la conciencia. Todo esto ha motivado que se la interprete desde santo Tomás, en quien pueden hallarse algunos aportes claves para resolver algunas preguntas que Arendt dejó abiertas sobre el mal banal. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Master" versus "Servant":Contradictions in Drama and Theatre EducationShifra Schonmann (bio)Mr Jourdain: You mean to say that when I say "Nicole, fetch me my slippers" or "Give me my night-cap" that's prose?Philosopher: Certainly, sir.Mr Jourdain: Well, my goodness! Here I've been talking prose for the last forty years and never known it, and mighty grateful I am to you for telling me!—Molière, Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme1My basic claim is that our (...) young field—drama and theatre education—feels old. Are we being stifled by applied drama and theatre, so that it has put real obstacles in the way of broadening the horizons of the field? I know that by asking this question I risk setting myself up as a living target for all those who maintain that applied theatre is the "hot" and the appropriate concept in the field. For more than twenty-five years now, we have been working with our students in teacher education departments and with children in schools in the manner of applied drama and theatre, but we have named it differently. It is as if we had been speaking the language of applied drama and theatre for twenty-five years—and we did not know that this was the case. (It reminds me of Moliere's Monsieur Jourdain who suddenly discovers that he has been speaking prose for the past forty years.) I would like to make it very clear from the outset that my claim is not against applied drama and theatre; it is a claim for another proportion (balance) between the instrumental function and the artistic-aesthetic function of our drama and theatre work in education.Is this a new claim? Not at all. But in the midst of our intensive endeavors in the field, it strikes me again and again that we have been running after our own tails, doing almost the same things over the past twenty-five [End Page 31] years. I have tried to understand why we are wandering around, surrounded by the same basic circles and experiencing a feeling of déjà-vu. What, really, is our problem? As a result of asking myself these questions, I began to analyze programs of the major conferences of the last ten years in drama and theatre education: Exeter (Researching Drama and Theatre in Education), AATE (American Alliance for Theatre and Education), IDEA (International Drama/Theatre and Education Association), and IDIERI (International Drama in Education Research Institute). These are considered to be the main international professional gatherings in the field (most of which I have attended). I have been looking into the headings that express the topics that were discussed. My data show that the majority of the topics were concerned with the by-products that drama and theatre can produce but not with the artistic and/or the aesthetic dimensions of the field. Sometimes I wonder if we fail to see the wood for the trees.In the Dictionary of Developmental Drama, written by Richard Courtney, an attempt was made to clarify the terms of drama used in a variety of practical fields.2 In this dictionary, we cannot find the applied theatre entry or process drama entry, but we can find entries such as developmental drama, drama in education, drama therapy, dramatic activity, educational drama, educational theatre, forum theatre, and many others. The terminology used among drama workers, leaders, and researchers is not precise. When drama educators and researchers meet, we engage in extensive discussion, often exchanging experiences and successful strategies. Quite some time can pass before we realize that our concepts of drama education differ considerably. These concepts range from completely spontaneous activities, such as improvisational exercises, to very carefully planned work, such as staging written scripts. Courtney's dictionary is the only one that I know that tries to define the basic concepts in our field: It is necessary but not adequate or up to date.In the "Drama Way" Project, a comprehensive work by Jouni Piekkari et al., coordinated by the University of Turku in Finland, I found a good attempt to set up a "mini" dictionary.3 The "Drama Way" Project identified a number of... (shrink)

Jean-Luc Nancy (1940-2021) a, tout au long de son chemin philosophique, maintenu le cap d'une interrogation centrée autour de la question dite de la "communauté", ou bien encore, et comme ses travaux ont incité à le dire le plus souvent, de l'"être-en-commun", de l'"être-ensemble", et finalement de l'"être-avec". Philosophe pleinement engagé dans son temps, il en a tout à la fois vécu les bouleversements et pensé les nouvelles articulations à l'ère de la mondialisation, les dérives les plus dangereuses de nos (...) jours, en réaffirmant en toute circonstance le fort caractère éthicopolitique qui caractérise sa manière unique de faire de la philosophie depuis ses premiers écrits. Fruit d'un travail collectif, cet ouvrage explore différents aspects de la question de la communauté, envisagée à la fois comme la question essentielle de la philosophie de Jean-Luc Nancy et comme la question philosophique majeure de notre temps. Au croisement de multiples voix singulières, qui font dialoguer Jean-Luc Nancy avec Jacques Derrida, Roland Barthes, Hans Jonas, Sigmund Freud, Jacques Lacan et bien d'autres, les essais qui composent ce volume explorent la cartographie complexe et variée des questionnements que la réflexion philosophique de Jean-Luc Nancy sur la communauté a contribué à faire émerger et à nourrir."--Page 4 of cover. (shrink)

Il saggio esamina il modo in cui nell’Antichità classica è stato pensato il conflitto politico a partire dalla riflessione su “fazioni” e “partiti”. L’analisi prende le mosse da Omero ed Esiodo, per i quali la Giustizia è lo strumento con cui dal caos originario si passa al cosmo ordinato. Si concentra quindi sulla nascita della polis come fattore di mediazione del conflitto fra le “parti” sociali, affrontando il pensiero di Tucidide, Platone e Aristotele, che condividono la stessa critica nei confronti (...) di “parti” interpretate come “fazioni” distruttive dell’ordine politico. Polibio, invece, valorizza le “parti” come elementi costitutivi del “tutto” politico, mentre per Sallustio le “fazioni” sono la causa della decadenza della Repubblica romana. Anche Cicerone rifiuta le “fazioni” in quanto distruttive della “concordia” dello Stato, mentre con l’Impero viene superato l’orizzonte particolaristico delle poleis; sarà Tacito, infine, a riflettere sulla contraddizione di un potere particolare che si legittima come universale. (shrink)

Existe una aparente correspondencia entre los géneros literarios y el ejercicio de la filosofía, pero ¿cuál es? Si recordamos la a-tipicidad del filósofo en búsqueda de un sentido que oriente la vida entendemos que no hay ningún género literario exclusivo para el ejercicio de la filosofía. La manera griega de filosofar puede acomodarse tanto de la estructura de un himno como de un diálogo o de una epístola. Ningún género es exclusivo de una experiencia filosófica porque para entender esta experiencia (...) es preciso revelar primero una definición negativa de lo que ella no es; dicha experiencia no consiste en provocar el sin sentido o la pérdida del sentido y no existe en la antigüedad un ejercicio de la literatura que se preste al culto a la fealdad o a una apertura sobre la sin razón. El caos o la hybris no es del dominio de lo discutible y la filosofía se opone a valores que no son los verdaderos valores. Después del lugar de incertidumbre en el cual se sitúa el filósofo, en esta tensión entre doxa y episteme, viene la elección fundamental de vida y es ésta la que determina, a su turno, la elección de uno u otro género literario. La elección fundamental de vida es en realidad una escuela de formación y el discurso que la conforma debe corresponderle plenamente. Así se explica la elección casi exclusiva de talo cual género literario en talo cual escuela. A modo de ejemplo lo anterior sirve para aprehender el Himno a Zeus de Cleantes. (shrink)

ResumenLa tragedia griega sigue siendo un gran referente de reflexión filosófica. En este artículo nos centraremos en la figura de Eurípides, concretamente en el tema de los juicios morales que trasmiten sus obras trágicas. La cuestión es que si en Esquilo la razón triunfaba sobre el dilema trágico, en Eurípides no se ve claro ese triunfo si viene impuesto desde fuera y no ha arraigado en el corazón de los ciudadanos. La razón tiene muchas dificultades para ejercer su control sobre (...) la acción y orientarla hacia el bien común. Eurípides planteará que es la persona, su conciencia interior, la que debe de estar convencida de que algo le obligue moralmente. El paso de una moral pensada a una moral vivida.Palabras claveRazón, pasión, conciencia interior, obligación moral, moral pensada, moral vividaAbstractThe Greek tragedy is still an important reference for philosophical reflection. In this article we will focus on the figure of Euripides, specifically on the issue of moral judgments his tragic plays transmit. The issue is that if in Aeschylus reason prevailed over the tragic dilemma, in Euripides it is not clear if that triumph is imposed from outside and has not rooted in the heart of the citizens. Reason faces much difficulty to exercise its control over action and go for the common good. Euripides proposes that it is the person, their inner consciousness, which must be convinced that something should oblige them morally. It’s the passage from a thought morality to a lived morality.KeywordsReason, passion, inner consciousness, moral obligation, thought morality, lived morality. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Carolina Hotchandani 633 Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair Now it happened that Metis was going to have a daughter, and she sat inside Zeus’s head hammering out a helmet and weaving a splendid robe for the coming child. Soon Zeus began to suffer from pounding headaches and cried out in agony. All the gods came running to help him, and skilled Hephaestus grasped his tools and (...) split open his father’s skull. Out sprang Athena, wearing the robe and the helmet, her gray eyes flashing. Thunder roared and the gods stood in awe. —from “Athena,” in D’Aulaire’s Book of Greek Myths, 1962 I’ve never met the doctor who happens to be on call when I go into labor. A sweet-smelling aftershave precedes him into the delivery room. We’re gonna get that baby right out of you, he says, pulling a latex glove over one hand and stretching the opening wide so it snaps back with a loud smack against his wrist. I want those hands nowhere near me. I imagine him coaching little league, tapping his baseball cap to send signals to tiny players in the outfield. He chews gum for the entirety of my labor. After I push with all my might for three and a half hours and the baby has still not moved, he says with a half-wink, Poor thing. You’ll be so sore when this is all over. The baby’s been out of me for a while now, but that man is still inside. I go over what happened again and again, desperate to find the angle through which he exits the scene and stays gone. He sees himself from the outside: a hero who enters the scene in medias res, scenting the room with sweet nectars. He will stop in, introduce himself, smile his neighborly smile, before he sets off on a journey through the hospital. Doors will open, doors to women splayed on beds. Women 634 Carolina Hotchandani writhe; women scream in pain. Some will be monstrous—Scyllas and Charybdises among them. Their wounds will gape. Their wombs will pull against his virile strength. They hold the center of the earth within them; theirs, the blood of the wine-dark sea. Do not waver; do not let their currents steer you. Skate above the dark waters. Wait to come through the door till they quake, till they halve. Stand back till they split in two. Then sew them up, and it’s you, it’s you who’s made them new! Pull that man right out of my head. Let me be Zeus on this hospital bed.... (shrink)

En el artículo se plantea que la libertad de expresión es vulnerada de manera distinta a los escenarios tradicionales en razón del uso del Big Data y otras tecnologías como el análisis predictivo de datos y la personalización de contenido. Esta vulneración resulta diferente de la habitual puesto que no existe imposibilidad o limitación a expresar lo que se quiere de manera espontánea, sino que, la libertad de expresión se ve coartada ex ante a través de la generación de circunstancias (...) en las que lo que se expresa viene dado previamente a través de información adecuada de manera personalizada según el perfil de quien opina. Para lograr presentar esta tesis, se efectúa un marco de referencia en el que este fenómeno se contextualiza. Al final se realiza una propuesta para disminuir o eliminar esta vulneración a la libertad de expresión. (shrink)

continent. 2.1 (2012): 22–28. Jeroen Mettes burst onto the Dutch poetry scene twice. First, in 2005, when he became a strong presence on the nascent Dutch poetry blogosphere overnight as he embarked on his critical project Dichtersalfabet (Poet’s Alphabet). And again in 2011, when to great critical acclaim (and some bafflement) his complete writings were published – almost five years after his far too early death. 2005 was the year in which Dutch poetry blogging exploded. That year saw the foundation (...) of the influential, polemical, and populistically inclined weblog De Contrabas (The Double Bass), which became a strong force for internet poetry in Dutch in the years to follow. In the summer of that year, a lively debate raged in the aftermath of Bas Belleman’s article “ Doet poëzie er nu eindelijk toe ?” (“Does poetry finally matter now?”), on a blog specifically devoted to this question. Up to that point, the poetical debate in the Netherlands had largely been confined to literary reviews (which were often subsidized), having become mostly marginalized in more mainstream media, where poetry could be covered by only a small number of so-called authorities. As a result, literary debate had acquired a rather placid quality. Though a variety of camps with different aesthetics could be discerned, most poetical positions shared a general acceptance of poetry as a form of art somewhat apart from fundamental political concerns. Late modernists would pursue subtlety and density of reference. Others would insist poetry was best understood as a form of entertainment that should ideally be accessible and work well on the stage. Still others would insist that poetry is mostly a play with forms. Linguistically disruptive strategies were valued highly by some, but mostly for their aesthetic effect. Values of disinterested playfulness reigned supreme everywhere. Any idea that poetry could be a field in which one confronts politics and the world was decidedly marginal. This led to a climate in which most attempts at polemics were DOA, often based on far too superficial positioning and analysis. The greatest polemical debates were revolving around the question of whether poetry should be difficult or easy, with both camps defining their ideas of difficulty and accessibility in ways that were so utterly shallow as to make the entire point moot. Debates were performed, rather than engaged with. It was a postmodern hell of underarticulated poetics. Half-consciously, people were yearning for new forms of criticism that could put the oomph back into poetry. Weblogs provided for ways to explore debate directly outside of the clotted older channels of the reviews and the newspapers. Belleman’s essay and the resulting online activity had shown that there was a widespread eagerness to take poetry more seriously as a social art form. It was in this environment that Mettes started his remarkable project Dichtersalfabet . At that moment, Mettes was active mostly in academic circles, having become noted at Leiden University as a particularly gifted student of literary theory. Within the Netherlands, the field of literary theory has a very odd relationship to literature as it is practiced in the country. Academic theory tends to have a mostly international view and engage with international debates of cultural criticism, literary theory, and philosophy, with academics often publishing in English and attending conferences around the world. Literature itself however is much more concerned with domestic traditions. Consequently, in the Netherlands, there exists a language gap between academic theoretical practice (as it is studied in the literary theory departments) and literary practice (which, academically, gets studied in specialized departments of Dutch literature). The Dichtersalfabet can be seen as Mettes’s attempt to close this gap. It is also an attempt to bridge the divide between theory and practice, in which he could apply his theoretical knowledge in a very unorthodox and unacademic critical mode that moreover could reach far beyond the domain of conventional criticism. Mettes’s goal was to trace a diagonal through Dutch poetic culture, to “strangle” what he perceived to be its dominant oppressive traditions of agreeable irrelevance, in order to see whatever might be able to survive his critical assaults. But he could only do so by means of a very serious engagement with poetry itself. To this end, he would go systematically through the poetry bookshelf of the Verwijs bookshop (part of a mainstream chain of booksellers) in The Hague, buying one publication per blog item, starting from A and working his way through the alphabet, reading whatever he might encounter that way in the restaurant of the HEMA store (another big commercial chain in the country). He would subsequently write down his reading experiences, refraining however from trying to write a nuanced book review. Rather, he would write about anything that caught his attention and sparked his critical interest. This way of working would yield vast, at times somewhat rambling, dense, lively, and generally brilliant essays, in which he held no punches. He never hesitated to pull out his entire arsenal of concepts from the international theory traditions, while never degenerating into mere academic exercise and pointless intertextualities. The attempt was rather to live the poetry that he read, and to engage it with the full range of political, academic, cultural, and personal references that he had at his disposal—all that composed the individual named Jeroen Mettes as a reader. Often what he wrote would not be according to the standards of what we usually think of as a critical review of a book of poetry. Sometimes he would even be a little sloppy in his judgments of poets or representations of the books he read, for example by basing an entire essay on the blurb of a book rather than its poetry content. But what he did was always brilliant writing nonetheless—virtuoso riffs on poetic fragments randomly found within capitalist society, exposing an incisive and insistent poetical sensibility. Mettes read poetry for political reasons, to see whether poetry could offer him a way to deal with a political world he detested. The right-wing horrors of the Bush years, the Iraq war, and the turn of Dutch public opinion towards ever more conservative, narrow-minded, and xenophobic views alongside a complete failure of the political left to present any credible alternative, were weighing heavily on the times in which Mettes reported on his reading. Poetry was to measure this world, diagram it, to lay bare its inconsistencies and faults, to indicate where lines of flight might be found. Amid the ruins of a world wrecked by imperialist policies, corporate capitalism, and doctrinal neoliberalism it would have to show the possibility of a new community. And it was, through its rhythmical workings, to release the reading subject from his confinement to ideologically conditioned individuality and lead him into the immanent paradise of reading. The stakes were high. Much higher than anything Dutch poetry had seen for many years. Mettes’s blog was widely read from the start. His posts sparked lively debates. Some of these subsequently led to the publication of extensive essays on a few key poets in some literary journals, particularly Parmentier and the Flemish journal yang , for which Mettes would become a member of the editorial board, a few months after starting the Dichtersalfabet . This could have been the start of a brilliant career, but this was not to be. The initial manic energy that fueled the blog gradually subsided. The Alfabet was updated less and less regularly. Mettes sometimes just disappeared for many weeks, then suddenly returning with a brilliant essay. Until, on September 21, 2006, he posted his final blogpost, consisting of no text whatsoever. That night I learned from his mentor at Leiden University that he had committed suicide. Mettes and I had had some fruitful exchanges on poetry, rhythm, music, and form, mostly on the blogs, but also by email. Three weeks before his death was the last time I heard from him: a very sudden, uncharacteristically curt note saying “My old new sentence epic.” Attached to that message I found a DOC-file of a work so major that I felt intimidated. This was N30 , a text he had been working on for over five years. After his death, it took me a long time before I dared to read it in its entirety. In the meantime, the work of preparing the manuscript for publication was entrusted by his relatives to his colleagues at yang magazine. It took them a few years to brush up the text and to edit the Dichtersalfabet -blog (which, apart from the Alphabet project itself, incorporated many other fragments of political, polemical, and theoretical writing) into book form along with the essays. The result of this labor was finally published in 2011 as a two-book set, and Mettes burst onto the Dutch poetry scene for the second time. The work was widely reviewed, on blogs, in journals, magazines, and newspapers. Many critics who had not followed the blogs in 2005 showed themselves surprised, baffled even, by the intensity of Mettes’s critical writing. But for those who had read the blog, the main surprise was in the poetry. During Mettes’s lifetime, some of his poems had already been published in Parmentier . Although these were strong texts by themselves, in no way did they prepare readers for N30 . Nothing like it had been written in Dutch before. Instead, N30 explicitly follows the American tradition of Language Writing, directly referencing Ron Silliman and his concept of The New Sentence. However, it would seem that much of the poetical thinking around his use of this technique puts him closer to a writer such as Bruce Andrews. For Mettes, using non sequiturs as a unit of poetic construction was not only a way of reinventing formal textual construction, but it was another way of finding the fault lines in the social fabric. From the perspective of the Language tradition, one may put N30 somewhere between Silliman and Andrews. N30 shares an autobiographical element with Silliman’s New Sentence projects, and as in Andrews, there is a concern for mapping out social totality within text—what Mettes refers to as a “textual world civil war.” Again this shows a formal textual strategy for allowing the person “Jeroen Mettes” to be absorbed by the world, which here appears as a whirlwind of demotic and demonic chatter, full of violence, humor, intensity, beauty, disgust, sex, commerce, and strife. Influenced as it may by American precursors, Mettes’s tone and form end up quite different from his American counterparts, consistently referencing a world that is Dutch, all too Dutch, taking on the oppressive orderliness of Dutch society with its endemic penchant for consensus by introducing chaos into its daily life and laying bare its implicit aggressions. The work’s 31 chapters each have a different feel and rhythmical outline, but none of them follow a predetermined pattern. Rather, Mettes would consistently edit and reedit the text, randomly rewriting parts of it, as he explains in his poetical creed Politieke Poëzie (Political Poetry). N30 – referring to the 1999 antiglobalist protest in Seattle – was to be the first text of a trilogy. The work itself was written “in the mode of the present.” A second text was to be written in the mode of the future, and a third one, in the mode of the past, was going to be an epic poem about the Paris Commune, and to form an alternative poetic constitution for the European project. I still deeply regret that Jeroen Mettes never got to complete those projects, just as I would be very keen on knowing what he might have had to say about more recent political developments. Instead, in 2006, he remained stuck in the horrors of the present, that ended up consuming him completely. He left Dutch literature with some of its most piercing criticism and its most profoundly moving, exciting and powerful poetry. Excerpts from N30 Translated by Vincent W.J. van Gerven Oei from Jeroen Mettes. "N30." In N30+ . Amsterdam: De wereldbibliotheek, 2011. Published with permission of Uitgeverij Wereldbibliotheek, Amsterdam. Chapter 1 1999. A day is a space too. And another man, who had chained himself, had his ribs crushed, and a motor has driven over somebody’s legs. Dutch health care system spends ±145 million guilders per year on worriers. A spiderweb vibrates as I pass by. Randstad renovating. She slaps her bag against her ass: “Hurry up!” OPINION IS TRUE FRIENDSHIP Your skin. It doesn’t express anything. “But the use of the sword, that’s what I learned, and you’ll need nothing more for the moment.” Just try to interrogate a guy like that. Gullit in Sierra Leone. Codes silently lying all around. But that’s simply what belongs to “that it’s just allowed”: that sigh of “world” (a word expressing that the trees are now standing along the water like black men with white bags in their hair); that’s nothing else right? And you see how everything has to move, and first of all what cannot do so. Without Elysium and without savings, barbarians lashing out, horny for an enemy, staring across the water, staring into the air—staring to get out of it. “You’ve never showed me more than the mall,” she said. All those “dreams” in the end—and now? It was lying on the stairway, so I picked it up and took it upstairs. Chapter 3 “You know what?” Telecommunication. For love… I don’t really like that cheap cultural pessimism, but… The holy city is on pilgrimage in the earthly bodies of the faithful until the time of the heavenly kingdom has come. The end of an exhausting autumn day behind the computer, my eyes filled with tears of fatigue. KITCHEN / INSTALLATION / SPECIALIST. Network integration. In the sun, stretched out on a sheet. (…) I don’t believe what I’m reading, because I want to believe something else. An illusion? Suits me. There’s a variety of shapes and tastes… “So what?” you may think. 102 dalmatians can’t be wrong. But I want more, dear… A feel good movie. I’m smashing the burned body. So what? We continue to save the European civilization. What’s there to win? Plato with poets = Stalin without gulag? Ball against the crossbar. No wonder. She comes straight to her point. She’s standing in the kitchen eating an apple. (…) The godless Napoleon had used her as a stable and wanted to have her taken down. “Our” Rutger Hauer. Ready or not here I come. Psst… are you also wearing a string? Nobody understands our desire. Cliffs breaking the waves and shattering the sunset. I used to be a real romantic (as a poet). A typical fantasy used to be the one in which I brutally raped mother and daughter Seaver from the sitcom Growing Pains . Nevertheless you only contain bad words. Eyelashes. Automatic or manual? That your skin always in the afternoon. Integration. The air is empty. Too bad! Hand in hand on their lonely way. Alaska! Chapter 12 May 5, 2001 [10:00-10:30] A dust cloud on a hill. Globe. Indian (British) (tie) / pope. Damascus. Rape. We’re carrying the ayatollah’s portrait through the streets. At the moment the girl is mostly suede jacket with white ribbons on her sleeves. A small explosion flares up/impact. Camouflage. Close up. We’re analyzing the situation. He’s dead right? Dead dead. Dead. Everything without, these, and only with the body. Indices signal death. Dollar bills are printed in factories. Holes. Light patch. Globe in a box. Microphone. What’s the situation? Grey impact on a green hill (field?). The water is blue. He has no lips. Interns on the background with skirts that are too long. This is an example of a sonnet. An Islamic woman pushes against the door of an electronics shop. Arrows (percentages (prices)). Is this what awaits the American? Touch screen interface. The word, an island, can only be a sign in that situation. We pull up a chair, join in on the fun. On the shelves only books about computers. One glance in the distance is enough to lighten up a luna park in the distance. She’s really desperate, especially when she laughs. Click. Ah. Next. And now it’s raining, but that’s ok. Yellow stains sliding over the south. Shallow caves light: clothes, boots, electrical equipment. 45. 22:10. Nothing gives you the right to eat more than people starving to death. The Hague. Slam dunk. Traffic light. Two H’s, one L (standing for the L (little prick)). We’re happy to say something. Clouds, small suns, temperatures, cities. The truth is never an excuse. Yellow. Yellow. Green. Yellow. Yellow. Yellow. Yellow. Green. Green. Yellow. Will you email me? Skeleton: “No.” Ex-nerds in brand-new and brightly red sport cars. $$$. I love. Shihab. Hooves in the sand. Skinny senior with over-sized sunglasses; old jockey (cap, trophy) smiling in slow motion. And there I am again, flashback, crying with my head in between my hands. Sometimes I’ve got the feeling that cannibals. Eyes: blue. Cancer. Why would I wait until tomorrow? Golden beams protruding from the lifted/lit earth. May 5, 2001 [11:30-12:45] You’ll remember this for the rest of your life. Graphs, diagrams. Bu$ine$$. Blue shirt, white collar, no neck (porn star). A name lights up. I’m hysteric. Will you join us? Letters falling in their words. Fingers set up a tent and start to dance. Young entrepreneurs from poor neighborhoods (read: black) guided by Microsoft. Kinda makes me happy, that sort of kitsch. A sense of exhaustion/impotence to see anything but the present. (…) Wouldn’t you like to? Orange explosion in an industrial zone. YOU’RE DOING THIS FOR AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL. Would you. A familiar face. Clouds and blossom. Sunflowers. Supermodels. Mountainous area in a rectangle: shades of brown, from dark to beige, more green toward the south. Tents and next to them (it’s all a blur) people. Plane. Stadium. Geometrical block of people. No, I ain’t crying. I don’t speak no more. I just want. Quote + photo. (Positive:) screaming crowd. Three-piece suit, seen from the back, before entering the arena. On the back: “Daddy abused me.” Oh, bummer. State of emergency has been declared and everyone has to cooperate. She’s cut her wrists. What we do know (…) is that there’s never been a unique word, an imperative name, nor will there ever be. [Click here for work that suits you.] Barefooted children are watching it (coherent pieces revelation of what’s lying below). Who knows how she’s changed during those two years. “Everything used to be better” + sigh. And here we are. An empty field of parquet. A city lying behind it. Explosion. Blue. A rain drop falling in my coffee. May 5, 2001 [14:30-15:30] A young Arafat on video speaking with raised finger. “I’m calling from my convertible.” Names on walls, victims, numbers… Tourists. Yellow. Yellow. “Your own child! Really, what kind of human are you?” I don’t want to hear it no more. A woman jumping out of the water in a yellow bikini against a background of fireworks and the Cheops pyramid. Thy sorrow shall become good fortune, thy complaints laudation. All planets will float and wander. Wo die Welt zum Bild wird, kommt das System (…) zur Herrschaft. It is something, but is it? May 5, 2001 [18:30-19:00] Iris. Leaves. NASDAQ. Open / and white and. For the one who’s doing nothing, just waiting. (…) NO DEFEAT is made entirely up of defeat -- since / the world it opens is always a place / formerly / unsuspected. October 2002. “Jeroen, I’m leaving for the cemetery, byeeee.” The rise of the middle class. My entire oeuvre is an ode to the. My entire head is a fight against the. God always demands what you cannot sacrifice. You may take that the easy way, but… “The state hasn’t made us, but we make the state” (Hitler). A stork exits the elevator. Skeletons of. Moscow. Helsinki. Palermo. Paris. Chapter 30 Like your paradises: nothing. United Desire, as only remaining superpower. And even though the sea is now calmer and the wind is blowing pleasantly in my face… Heart! Who determines whether a tradition is “alive”? The yellow leaf or the white branch? Mars. This sentence is a typical example. Most Dutch people are happy. No consolation. When I see a girl sitting at a table with a book, a notepad, a pen, a bottle of mineral water, her hand writing in the light—then I consider that one thing. “Presents,” “poetry,” “classics.” We are what we cannot make from ourselves. “Left”: mendicant orders, missionaries. Saint-Just: “A republic is founded on the destruction of its enemies.” She crosses the street with a banana peel between her fingers. (…) We chose our own wardens, torturers, it was us who called all this insanity upon ourselves, we created this nightmare… But “no”? Girl (just like a beach ball) talking rapid Spanish (Portuguese?) in a mobile phone. Do I have a chance now that her boyfriend is getting bold? CLIO, horny bitch. What else do you want? An old woman, between the doors of the C1000, is suddenly unable to go on; her husband stretches out his hand, speaking a few encouraging words. Selection from. Der Führer schenkt den Jüden ein Stadt. How can it reach us if we haven’t been already reached somehow? It doesn’t “speak.” No problem. Each word she uses is a small miracle, as if she doesn’t belong to it, to language, but wanders around with a pocket light looking for the exit; she’s never desperate (maybe a little nervous), lighting up heavy words from the inside. But indeed, we’re free. But the predicate is not an attribute, but an event, and the subject is not a subject, but a shell. That’s why also samurai, knights, and warriors raised the blossom as emblem: they knew how to die. Locked up in a baby carriage with a McDonald’s balloon. Blue helicopter, the blue sky. Whether you want to refer? The point is. How / Motherfucker can I sing a sad song / When I remember Zion? You’ll feel so miserable and worthless that you think: “If only I were dead!,” or: “Just put an end to it!” “So you’re an economist?” Her card—two little birds building a nest, her handwriting shaking—is still on the mantelpiece. Guevara: “No, a communist.” A straw fire, such was our life: rapidly it flared up, rapidly it passed. I’m fleeing, coming from nowhere. (…) Eazy-E drinking coffee with the American president. If I’d scream, would that be an event? Drown it: the cleaner it will rise up from the depths. No! The night, so fast… As if there’s something opened up in that face. Come on, we may not curse life. He shows me his methadone: “If you drink that all at once, you’ll die instantly.” The last one dictates how we should behave to deserve happiness. One shine / above the earth. “I want to go to Bosnia,” I said bluntly. I don’t even know the name of the current mayor. Let’s despise our success! “There is no future; this is the future. Hope is a weakness that we've overcome. We have found happiness!” Sun. Sushi. Volvo. I feel like a bomb about to explode at any moment. Makes a difference for the reconstruction right? The decor moves forward. Daughter of Nereus, you nymphs of the sea, and you Thetis, you should have kept his tired head above the waves! Alas! This sentence has been written wearing a green cap. I receive my orders from the future. A frog jumps into it. Her husband has turned the Intifada, which he follows daily on CCN, into his hobby, “to forget that he doesn’t have his driver’s license yet." Suddenly the sun slides over the crosswalk. Her (his?) foot is playing with the slipper under the table. Is this how I’m writing this book now? I’m not a fellow man. I hate you and I want to hurt you. These are my people. Their screaming doesn’t rise above the constantly wailing sirens which we've learned to ignore. My whole body became warm and suddenly started to tremble. Unfortunate is he who is standing on the threshold of the most beautiful time, but awaits a better one. Arafat’s “removal” is contrary to American interests. Jeep drives into boy. What you can do alone, you should do alone. A food gift from the people of the United States of America. Two seagulls. [...]. (shrink)

continent. 1.2 (2011): 129-135. Introduction Vincent W.J. van Gerven Oei Successions of words are so agreeable. It is about this. —Gertrude Stein Nachoem Wijnberg (1961) is a Dutch poet and novelist. He also a professor of cultural entrepreneurship and management at the Business School of the University of Amsterdam. Since 1989, he has published thirteen volumes of poetry and four novels, which, in my opinion mark a high point in Dutch contemporary literature. His novels even more than his poetry are (...) criticized for being inaccessible, which I generally take to be a compliment. It would be like saying that Fernando Pessoa is inaccessible, which he is not. Neither is Wijnberg. When we think of the combination economist-poet we are immediately reminded of the American poet Wallace Stevens, who, as the story goes, had two stacks of paper on his desk, one for contracts, one for poems. We also know that Stevens wrote on the economy and that questions of economy and insurance surface at multiple points in his poems. The following text is a very preliminary attempt to point at the intersections between poems, novels, business, and poetry in Wijnberg’s work. On the back cover of his novel De opvolging ( The Succession , 2005), Wijnberg states the following: “[This is] a novel for whomever is interested in the workings of a company as much as in the workings of a poem.” Wijnberg thus claims that the way in which a company “works” may be similar to the way in which a poem “works.” The question is the obvious one, what does this similarity consist in? De opvolging tells the story of company in which bosses and company doctors, secretaries, children, clowns, and beggars have tons of meetings, recite poems, perform plays, tell jokes, and succeed each other, climbing up and down in the company’s hierarchy. De opvolging is a novel in which the career of people follows the career of words. It resonates with Gertrude Stein's sentences, "Grammar. What is it. Who was it" (1975, 50). The words in Wijnberg's poems are like he characters in his novel. And if we keep in mind this allegorical reading of De opvolging , which is obviously only one of the possible readings, we may be able to understand some aspects of Wijnberg’s poetry. A repetition is already a pun. Look, that word is trying it again, as if it is afraid that by not doing it it would give up the hope that it will ever be able to do something. A pun is the opposite of the first word coming to the mind of someone who shouts it when he suddenly discovers something. (104) The repetition, the succession of the same word, is already a pun, a joke. The succession of the father by the son after the revolution is a joke. "Look he's trying it again!" The essence of a joke is a repetition. Archimedes’ “Eureka!” is its opposite. Poems can easily become jokes, depending on the way the words follow and repeat each other. In De opvolging , the careers of the bosses, good and bad secretaries, and company doctors easily become jokes, as they are “afraid that by not doing it [they] would give up the hope that [they] will ever be able to do something.” Not only the repetition, but also the distance and difference between the words in a poem, their cause and effect relations can be read as company relations. This becomes clear when we, for example, read the first lines of the poem “Cause, sign” from Het leven van ( The Life Of , 2009). A sign lets know what is going to happen, a cause lets it happen. If the sign also lets happen there is no reason to isolate it, because then I would isolate some- thing only because it’s different for me. If I didn’t have to write this myself, but would have secretaries to whom I could dictate it, I would be able to say more about it. (49) Upon reading the first two lines we can already conclude that any word may be cause or sign or both. If a sign is also a cause there is no reason to discriminate it, yet to the poet they are still different. This difference only becomes expressible the moment he would have a secretary. Just like in De opvolging , the secretary introduces a distance; not in a company but in a poem. Hence the difference between “good” and “bad” secretaries in a company, where the good secretary of one boss may be the bad secretary of another one. The more we can say about the bosses of the company, or signifiers of the poem, the greater the distance we introduce between them and us. We should take serious the relation between Wijnberg’s novels and poems. Although they operate on different scales, they explain and converse with each other. Another example may be the novel Politiek en liefde ( Politics and Love , 2002), which deals with the relation, precisely, between politics and love. In the novel, Nicolai, a lieutenant in the Dutch army, is sent to Africa on a military mission. Upon leaving a receives a letter from his father. Dear son, Don’t do anything stupid before your father has advised you to do so. Your mother asked me to write a wise letter. I have been looking for wisdom for half a day and haven’t found much. If you borrow a small amount from a bank you become the bank’s slave, but if you borrow a couple of millions and spend them as quickly as possible the bank becomes your slave. What I want to say is that you have to return from Africa in good health, and before you know it the world will be your slave [....] Signed with a kiss from your father. (88) The line, “If you borrow a small amount from a bank you become the bank’s slave, but if you borrow a couple of millions and spend them as quickly as possible the bank becomes your slave,” returns as the title of poem in Het leven van: “If I borrow enough money the bank becomes my slave” (12-3), which elaborates this theme. So both in the way that these poems are structured and in their subject matter, they refer to the structures of our economy, to the ever-continuing line of CEOs succeeding each other like words, to the distance between them introduced by bureaucracy, and giving and receiving as economical and poetical acts. Poem and economy map onto each other, as in another episode from De opvolging : Edward reads two of the beggar’s poems about presents. Of a holiday nothing remains, except for memories, and if some of them are bad I’d rather forget them all; if I get a present I’d rather get something that’s useful to me for a long time. If I may choose, I choose what I can use longest, long enough to partially forget that this was the present, because it feels bad when nothing is left of it. […] Giving away becomes destruction in the stock destruction economy [ voorraadvernie -tigings-economie ], that is a gift economy [ geschenkeneconomie ], encountering for the first time an economy in which there’s selling and buying on markets. Instead of destroying supplies someone can also quickly say that they aren’t worth anything anymore; if someone wants to take them I’d gladly give him something extra. In a stock destruction economy he is someone who each day wants to work more hours than his colleagues. If around a company there is a gift economy in which someone’s rank is determined and made visible by the gifts someone can give someone else, a company will be more often character- ized by an invisible or unclear system of ranks. (152) Two poems about gifts present two different economical models, described by Wijnberg with the terms “stock destruction economy” and “gift economy.” Here we immediately recall the opposition introduced by George Bataille’s work on the concept of expenditure in The Accursed Share , where a “general economy” would surpass the stock destruction economy based on scarcity (capitalism) and become a gift economy (potlatch) and an egalitarian (communist) society. These claims are made both on the level of the poems and in their discursive explanation. They follow each other and on each other. I would like to finish this introduction to Wijnberg’s writing with a translation from his novel De joden ( The Jews , 1999), which develops the story of Hitler abdicating as chancellor of the Third Reich, appointing philosopher Martin Heidegger as his successor. In a conversation with two Russian actor-spies, sent by Stalin to figure out the situation, philosopher Walter Benjamin describes the abdication scene. Maimon: You were there when Hitler resigned? Benjamin: In the room we’re right now. The desk and the chairs are new. After his resignation Hitler would like to take his furniture to his new house. Martin naturally agrees. It is a sunny day. Martin is very nervous and complains about the heat. Martin is wearing his best dark blue suit, not his professor’s robe. Hitler is wearing his uniform. We enter the room and Hitler gets up and embraces Martin. Martin is not very good at embracing. Hitler shakes his hand. Hitler’s cap is on the desk. The cap has a metal lining. Hitler has strong neck muscles. Hitler says: A man is unclean. He takes a bath. Does he make the bath water unclean? I say: a man is unclean. He steps into a river. A little further a man steps into the river; does he become unclean? Hitler nods. I say: a man is standing in music. Another man hears the music but also sees the first man moving on the beat of the music in a way that he is certain that the music would excite different feelings in him if he wouldn’t to see the first man. Hitler says: a man is clean, listens to music, is suddenly touched and he doesn’t know by what. The conversation ends in the way you know it ends. Hitler picks up his cap from the desk and puts it on Martin’s head. (73-4) Aware of the never ending debate on the question of Heidegger’s involvement in the Nazi regime, Wijnberg has the audacity to present the arguments of complicity in the religious terminology of cleanliness and uncleanliness, while at the same time recalling overtones of Hitler’s supposed love for Wagner, suggesting a relation between Benjamin and Hitler, and so on. The space of this introduction is to small to treat a novel like De joden , a reading of which together with passages from Philippe Lacoue-Labarthe's Heidegger, Art, and Politics: The Fiction of the Political , Jacques Derrida's Of Spirit , Christopher Fynsk's Heidegger: Thought and Historicity , and Avital Ronell's The Telephone Book would be extremely elucidating and potentially open new avenues in thinking Heidegger's emphasis on poetry after the fall of the Nazi empire. But at this point we will have to curb our curiosity and follow the poet himself. The themes of the relation between business and poetry, but also Chinese landscape painting, love, Indian and Japanese poetry, and Western philosophy are analyzed and assimilated in Wijnberg’s work without ever losing the clarity of expression. It may be that, according to Alain Badiou, the “Age of the Poets” is over, but its end (Paul Celan) has exactly brought a new balance between philosophy and poetry, and it is this playful, but nonetheless serious balance that makes one hope that one day Wijnberg’s complete oeuvre might become available to readers across the planet. Tiranë, Albania February 15, 2011 English translations (all of them translated by David Colmer, who is preparing an English collection of Wijnberg’s poems entitled Advanced Payment ): Poetry International Words Without Borders Green Integer Review from Het leven van ( The Life of ) THE LIFE OF KANT, OF HEGEL As if every day he takes a decision that is as good as when he’d been able to think about it all his life. The life of Kant, of Hegel, the days of the life of, select three or four of them. Tell what he has discovered during those days as if he were the last one who knew so little. Give me something that I can cancel against then I can prepare myself for it. The reward is that I may continue with what I’m doing, it doesn’t matter how long it takes. This has nothing to do with everything remaining the same if I say that I no longer want anything else. I wouldn’t be able to say in which one and the other occur in a way that I if I knew something to cancel that one against it wouldn’t be possible now. The stars above my head and being able to say what belongs to what if I’ve let them in. FOLLOWING MY HEART WITHOUT BREAKING THE RULES Observing the rules without observing the rules by going where the rules no longer apply. I could also observe the rules there by applying them to what at great distance may resemble what the rules are about. But why would I do that, not to confuse someone who is seeing me from a great distance? Behind this morning the morning prepares itself when the rules are everything I have. IF I BORROW ENOUGH MONEY THE BANK BECOMES MY SLAVE A bank lends me money, if I don’t pay it back they tell my boss that he has to pay them my salary. But they have to leave me enough to eat and sleep and an umbrella when it’s raining. They can also empty my house, the furniture isn’t worth a lot, but every little helps. Each morning I leave for work, if I don’t start early they’ll soon get someone else, no bank will lend me money when the sun is shining. My boss has given me a cat to raise as a dog. Of course I know that it won’t work out, but I’ve asked for a week—maybe the cat gets lucky, maybe I get lucky. My hands around a cup of coffee, before I leave for work, warm-empty, cold-empty, as if hidden in the mist over a lawn. What I make when there’s no work left for me, I’m ashamed to say how little it is. Once I’m outside I check it, if they watch out of the window they can see me doing it. Suppose it is so much that I’d stay counting for hours, it’s getting dark and I’m still there. They stay watching for a while once they’ve finished their work, but have to go home, I get that, sure, I could also go home and continue counting there. If it’s too little running back immediately won’t help, because nobody’s there anymore, and if I come back tomorrow I may have spent what’s missing tonight. Going somewhere where it’s warm enough to walk around without clothes during daytime, it helps me to know that something’s more there than here. For someone like me there’s work anywhere, it shouldn’t take a week to find work for me there. Three times work and a home close to work, I may choose one and try for a week whether I want to stay there. If at the end of the week I don’t want to stay I’m back on the next day, then it was a week’s holiday. RULES If that’s against a rule, it’s yet another one that I cannot observe, or only so briefly that I cannot re- member it later. Anyways the rules are only there to help me remember what I need in order to do better what I do. In that respect there’s no difference between the rules that I find in a book and the rules that I think of early in the morning. I know that because I’ve made a rule just now nothing has yet to observe it. CAUSE, SIGN A sign lets know what is going to happen, a cause lets it happen. If the sign also lets happen there is no reason to isolate it, because then I would isolate something only because it’s different for me. If I didn’t have to write this down myself, but would have secretaries to whom I could dictate it, I could to say more about it. If something is taken away from me I consider how it would be if the opposite had been taken from me. That is what causes or signifies what is farthest away from what is caused or signified by what has been taken away from me. note: For the translations of “The life of Kant, of Hegel” and “If I borrow enough money the bank becomes my slave” I was able to consult David Colmer’s wonderful translations. (shrink)

INTRODUCTION BY NANCY FUMERO What is a translation that stalls comprehension? That, when read, parsed, obfuscates comprehension through any language – English, Portuguese. It is inevitable that readers expect fidelity from translations. That language mirror with a sort of precision that enables the reader to become of another location, condition, to grasp in English in a similar vein as readers of Portuguese might from João Guimarães Rosa’s GRANDE SERTÃO: VEREDAS. There is the expectation that translations enable mobility. That what was (...) written in one language be accessible in another. And that a translator is to serve as a mediator, acting ultimately in service to ideas within the source text. To disperse them. However, this notion of translation is partly antithetical to the ideas in Rosa’s work. Or, alternately, to convey the despair of terrain slipping beneath one’s feet, and to encounter the heightened suspense of magic, the translation, as part of its strategy, cannot devotedly rely on its original language, not as its source text. The work undertaken by Felipe W.Martinez is a new form of translation that risks everything in order to encounter the same treacherous knowing Rosa had traversed. And it takes its risks by not taking risks: by being, almost word for word, a literal translation. This is an approach that reductively converts, as opposed to translates. The idiomatic differences between English and Portuguese are not accented. The syntax is not finessed. Liberties are not assumed on account of improving readability. What stands, resoundingly amid such absences, is the awakened challenge of reading. The genuine peril of not knowing. That is, this translation, one that purports to know nothing, creates access into the guileful world Rosa had created in Portuguese. But not by translating. If anything, GRANDE SERTÃO: VEREDAS is speaking a cosmic language through a linguistic one. And W.Martinez does us the service of recognizing this, as what configures the shapes of words and sentences is not as simple as neologisms, portmanteaus, and digressions, but as terrifying as the path the fool traverses: all paths. As such, this translation doesn’t speak English, just as the original does not speak Portuguese. It is the assemblage of paradox as a new logic that can be navigated, if only one could suspend the comfort of readability, of expectation. If one could descend a mountain in the pitch dark of night, each step shocking the body, unable to acclimate to the unleveled heights. Without a doubt, the translation is incongruous to the Portuguese. Taking a small excerpt to compare: Eh, well, thereafter, the rest the Sir provide: comes the bread, comes the hand, comes the god, comes the dog. What is striking is the interplay between “god” and “dog”. To most English speakers, this anagram is a familiar one. But in Portuguese the words god (“deus”) and dog (“cão”) are not so closely linked. In fact, there is no direct mention of “deus” in Rosa’s text: Eh, pois, empós, o resto o senhor prove: vem o pão, vem a mão, vem o são, vem o cão. Both are fascinating. In Rosa’s excerpt, the rhythm is unmistakable and precise, despite, of course, the indices of hesitation: the commas, the Eh, the uncomfortable way of searching through prolongation and wait. This is the sort of paradox Rosa can engage within a sentence. W.Martinez’s does this as well, at a scale that reverberates beyond the sentence, and with one noticeable addition: deus. What may appear to be an overstep, to add such a weighted word that draws out wordplay but is, nevertheless, not in the source text, is exemplary of risk. The translation buzzes because of it. This is because throughout the text we encounter dogs frequently, as some primal beast on par with humans. The dog is one that masters and can be mastered. A creature that is at times its face, and at others a mask. It is a powerful presence. For the translator to be attuned to the reverent undercurrent attributed to this animal, and create within the translation such charged play in English from what was only an implication in Portuguese, is in tribute to the grand beauty within dissonance. What aberrant modes of writing and translation can teach us most assuredly, is that things, words, are not in states of rightness or wrongness, but of oscillation. This isn’t so different from what Rosa says himself: The Sir look…see: the most important and beautiful, of the world, is this: that the people are not always same, still were not completed — but that they go always shifting. They tune or detune. We find this so readily in W.Martinez’s translation, this tuning and detuning. Nancy Fumero Los Angeles GRAND SERTÃO: VEREDAS BY JOÃO GUIMARÃES ROSA TRANSLATED FROM THE PORTUGUESE BY FELIPE W.MARTINEZ Nonothing. Shots that the Sir heard were man brawling not, God be. Bleach white sights on the tree in the backyard, down in the river. By my right. I do this every day, I like; from the bad of boyhood. Thereof they came to call on me. Case of a calf: a white calf, errorful, eyes of to not be—saw selves—; and with a mask of a dog! They told me; I didn’t want to catch a sight. Same that, by the defects of birth, upturned lips, looked to be a laughing man. Folkface, dogface: they determined—it was the devil. Bananas. Killed it. Do not know who owned it. They came to borrow my guns. I caved. I’ve no power to impose. Oh, sir, you laugh certain laughs…Look: when it’s a true shot, first the dogs begin to bark, instantly—after, then, you see who’s handed death. Sir, endure, this is the Sertão. Some want that it is not: that situated Sertão is in and out of those general fields, they say, end of the road, highlands, the other Urucuia. Toleima. For those of Cortino and of Curvelo, then, isn’t here said Sertão? Ah! That there’s more! To place the Sertão it’s told: it’s where the pastures lack latches; where one can tear off ten, fifteen leagues without running into a houseinhabitant; where criminalousness lives out its christ jesus. Sifted out from the tightening grip of the law. The Urcuia comes from the western mountains. But today, its banks, give all—farmlands of farms, pastures of meadows of good yield, low tides, cultures that go kill for kill, until these virgins there are. The general fields run round. These general fields are without size. Ultimately, whichever one one approves, the Sir knows: bread or breads, it’s a question of heads…the Sertão is everywhere. Of the devi? No comment. Sir ask the dwellers. Falsely I fear they unspeak that name of his—only say: whatsitcalled. Volt! no… Whosoever over avoids it, lives with it. In the sentence of one Aristides—who exists in the first palm grove on the right hand side, called Vereda-of-Cow-Calm-of-Saint-Rita—everyone believes: he can't pass in three designated places: then can be heard the tiny cry, behind, a little voice warning:— "Here I come! Here I come!... "— that is the Capirote, the whatsitcalled... And one Jise Simplicio—who anyone from here will swear he keeps an imp in house, a little satanite, imprisoned and obliged to help in all greedful deeds; reason that Simplicio emprises en route to complete riches. As such, for this they say too that his beast bristles and refuses, denying his banner, unyielding, when he wishes to mount... Superstition. Jise Simplicio and Aristides, continue getting fatter, thence unheard or heard. Still the Sir study: right now, in these days of time, you have people purporting that the devil proper stopped, mid-passage, in Andrequice. A boy out of there, to whom'd appeared, and there lauded that, to get here—normally, by horse, a day-n-half—he was capable of such with only some twenty minutes enough... by coasting the River of Chico by the headwaters! Or, too, who knows—sans offense—will not have been, for example, even yourself the Sir who announced such, when you passed by there, for fun run funny? Thereof, not my given crime, I know that wasn't. And evil I wanted not. Only that one question, in hours, at times, brightens peaceful reason. But, the Sir understand: if such a boy, there was, he wanted to dupe. Because, hey, that, to cut the river off by the springs, would be the same thing as one redoubling in the internals of this our state of ours, costant of a journey of some three months... Then? Whatsitcalled? Dodo. The fantastication. And, the respect of giving him such these names of delicacy, is what it is for one to want to invoke that he form of form, with his presence! Not that is. I, personally, almost that have lost in him the creed, deserving to Deus; is the that to the Sir I say, to pure-secret. I know that it is well established, that it greases our Saintly-Gospels. On occasion, I conversed with a young seminarian, super suitable, conferring in the book of prayers and coated in vestments, with a stick of black-sage in hand—prosed that he went auxilitator to the father, to extract the Cujo, from the body living of an oldwoman, in Waterfalls-of-Bulls, he went with the vicar of Field-Round... I conceive. The Sir not is as I? I didn't believe a single thing. Compadre mine Quelemem describes that that which reveals effect are the low spirits meager, of third, adoing in the worst darkness and with anxieties of connecting selves with the livers—they give support. Compadre mine Quelemem is who much me consoles—Quelemem of Goias. But he has to live far from here, in Jijuja, Vereda of Buriti Dark... Ahrr, I leave myself there, that in enevildemonment or with support—the Sir too must have had known diverse, men, women. As not yes? For me, umpteen I've seen, that I've learned. Ma-Neigh, Blood-o'Other, or Legion-Lips, or Tear-em-Down, Cold-Cutter, or Sissy-Goat, one Treciziano, or Verdigris... or Hermogenes... o'them, pileload. If I could forget so many names... I'm not a man for calming horses! And, same, whom of yes of to be jagunço self enters, yea is for some competence entrant of demonion. Will it not? Will it? From first, I made and mixed, and to think not I thought. I didn't have the deadlines. I lived pulling difficult from difficult, fish alive on griddle: who lives asp'rously, no fantasies. But, now, fete of fate to me comes, and sans little disquietudes, I'm from creaky net. And myself invented in this like, of to speculate ideas. The devil exists and nonexists? I say the saying. Opennouncement. These melancholies. The Sir sees: exists waterfall; and since? But waterfall is gulch of ground, and water so pouring from it, retumbling; the Sir consume that water, or undo that bankment, remainder waterfall any? To live is negotiation much perilous. I explain to the Sir: the devil vigors inside of human, the wrinkles of human— or is the human ruin, or the human of adversess. I free, per se, citizen, is that not has devil notone. Notone!— is the that I say. The Sir approve? Me declares total, frank— is high merit that me make: and to beg might, increased. This case— by rashtravagance that me they see— is of mine certain importance. God grant not was... But, not say that the Sir, awised and instructed, that agrees in people of them?! Not? You I appreciate! Your high opinion composes my value. Yea I knew, waited for it— yea the field! Ah, a we, in oldness, we lack of to have plowing of rest. You I appreciate. Is devil notone. Nor esprit. Never I've seen. Someone ought to see, then was I myself, this your servant. Was I you to tell... Well, the devil regulate his state black, ins creatures, ins womens, ins humans. E'en: ins childrens— I declaim. Since not is said: "boy—trainee of the devil"? And ins thes uses, ins plants, ins waters, in terra, in wind... Manures. …The devil in the street, in the middle of the vortex... Hey? Hey? Ah. Figuration mine, of worse by back, the certain memories. Mal-make me! I suffer pain of to tell not…Meliorate, if chillingly: well, in a ground and with equal format of branches and leaves, not give to cassava-calm, that is eaten common, and the cassava-mad that kills? Now, the Sir yea saw a strangeness? A cassava-sweet can rapidly to turn agonizing— motives not I know, at times is said that is for replanted in the terrain always, with mutations then, of caules—go embittering, of s’much in s’much, of its self takes poisons. And, well look: the other, the cassava-mad, too is that at times can fix calm, the estimate, of is to eat sans notone mal. And what this is? Eh, the Sir yea saw, for to see, the ugliness of hate pleated, facetorqued, on the faces of one cobrarattlesnake? Observed the porker fat, capita day more felicity brute, capable of, could, snort and engulf for its own dirty coziness the world total? And sparrowhawk, blackbird, some, the features of they yea represent the need of cleave for before, rend and shred by beak, appears a knife much fine for ruin I desire. Total. Has even twisted races of stone, horrorous, venomous— that spoil mortal the aquas, if they are buried beneath of well; the devil inside of them sleeps: they are the devil. Is known? And the demon— that is only thus the significance of one mercury malign— have order of to follow the path of him, have license to brag?! Arr, he is variegated in all! What the what wastes, goes spending the devil of inside of the people, by itttybits, is the reasonable to suffer. And the delight of love—compadre mine Quelemem says. Family. Really? Is, and not is. The Sir think and not think. Total is and not is… Almost all more grave criminous ferocity, always is much good husband, good son, good father, and is good-friend-of-your-friends! I know of those. Solo that have the afters— and Deus, joined. I spy many nimbi. But, in veracity, son, too, softens. Look: one called Aleixo, resident a league from Step-of-Sour, in Of-Sand, was the man of major badness calm that yea you saw. Me agreed that near the house of his had a weir, amidst the palms, with traíras, for souls of enormous, desenormous, to the real, that received fame; the Aleixo gave of to eat to them, in hours just, they self accustomed to if assuch of lunacies, in order to gobble, seemed to be fishes instructed. One day, solo for grace rustic, he killed an oldman who by there passed, destitute begging alms. The Sir not doubt—have people, in this bored world, that kill solo in order to see someone make grimace… Eh, well, thereafter, the rest the Sir provide: comes the bread, comes the hand, comes the god, comes the dog. This Aleixo was man afamilied, had children small; they were the love of his, total, absurdity. Gave good, that not even a year there passed, of to killed the oldman poor, and the children of Aleixo there they asickened. Smallepidemic of measles, they said, but complex; they never heal. When, then, they healed. But the eyes of theirs vermillionized high in an inflame of spraining to rebellion; and nexthing— the that not I know is if they went of at once, or one later and later other and other— they remained blind. Blind, sans remission of one sweet of light of this Ours! The Sir imagine: stairset— three boys and one girl— all blind. Sans remediable. The Aleixo not lost the judgment, but he changed; ah, mutated complete— now lives of band of Deus, sweating to be good and charitous in all his hours of night and of day. Appears even that he fixed the felicity, that before not was. He himself says he was a man of luck, because Deus wanted to have pity of him, to transform for there the route of his soul. That I heard, and me it gave rage. Reason of the children. If being castigated, what culpa of the let-there-bes of Aleixo those little children had?! Compadre mine Quelemem reproved my uncertainties. That, for certain, inother life returnaound, the children too had been the most wicked, of the mass and part of the father, demons of the same kettle of place. Sir the what thinks? And the oldman, assassinated? — I know the Sir goes to discuss. Well, too. In order that he had a sin of crime, in the body, by to pay. If the people— conforming compadre mine Quelemem is who says— if the people turn to to incarnate renovated, I contemplate even that enemy of death can come as son of the enemy. Look see: if to myself I say, has a subject Pedro Pindo, neighbor of here more six leagues, man of good for all in all, he and the woman of his, always been good, of goodness. They have a son of some ten years called Valtei—name modern, is the that the population of here now appreciates, the Sir knows. Well this-little-thing, thislet, since that some understanding illuminated in him, deed demonstrated the that is: petition stepfather, acid burner, likeful of ruin of inside of the profundity of the species of its nature. In which that torments, to the slowly, of all beasts or raisinglings little that quarrel; one time he found a creole woman hooched foolish sleeping, he arranged a shard of bottle, lashed at three points on the stern of the legs of hers. The what this boy drooled seeing, is bleeding hen or to knife pig.— “I enjoy of to kill…”— one occasion he teeny me told. He opened in me a fright; because: birdy that self leans over— the flight yea is ready! Well the Sir oversee: the pa, Pedro Pindo, mode of to correct this, and the ma, they give in him, misery and mast—they cast the boy sans to eat, they tied to trees in the yard, he nude, unplumed, even in June cold, they tilled the bittybody of his with the trammel and with the goblet, after they cleansed the skin of the sanguine, with bottle gourd brine. The people know, spy, fix wasted. The boy yea relowered of thinness, the eyes entering, caress of bones, enskulled, and tuberculated, the time total hacking, coughness of the that draw parched pectorals. Arr, that now, visible, the Pindo and the woman self habituated of on him hit, of little bit in little they were creating in this a pleasure ugly of diversion— as they regulate the canings in hours certain comfortable, until they call people to see the example good. I think that boy not endure, yea there is in the ta-da, not arrive for the lent to come… Ooee-ooee, then?! Not being as compadre mine Quelemem to want, that explication is that the Sir bestowed? That boy had to be a man. He should, in swing, terrible perversities. Soul of his was in the pitch. Demonstrated. And, now, paid. Ah, but, happens, when he’s crying and paining, he suffers equal that as was as a boy good… Bird, I saw all, in this world! Yea I saw even horse with hiccups… —the that the thing most costous that is. Good, but the Sir may say, should of: and in the start— for offenses and arts, the people— as for that was that s’much amended was started? Ey, ey, ey all collided. Compadre mine Quelemem, too. Am solo a sertanite, in these high ideas I navigate mal. Am much poor poor-thing. Envy my pedigree and of ones conform the Sir, with total reading and doctoration. Not is that I be illiterate. I spelt, years and middle, midly speller, memory and palmer. I had master, Master Lucas, in the Curralinho, he memorized grammar, the operations, rule-of-three, even geography and study patria. On leaves great of paper, with caprice I traced handsome maps. Ah, not is for to speak: but, since of the start, me they thought sophisticated of side. And that I merited of to go to course latin, in Lesson Waterlily—that too they said. Time nostalgic! Going today, I appreciate a good book, despaced. On the farm The Lilittlelemon, of one mine friend Vito Soziano, so sign of this almanac thick, of logoglyphs and conundrums and other divided matters, all year come. In s’much, I place primacy is in the reading advantageous, life of saints, virtues and examples— missionary astute engambling the Indians, or Saint Francis of Assis, Saint Anthony, Saint Gerald… I like much of moral. To ratiocinate, exhort the others for the good way, to acounsel to just. Mine woman, that the Sir knows, vigils for me: much prayer. She is a blessable. Compadre mine Quelemem always says that I may to aquiet my fears on conscience, that being well-attended, terrible good-esprits me protect. Eep! With like… As is of saint effect, I help with mine to want to accredit. But not even always can I. The Sir knew: I total the mine life I thought for me, lining, I am born different. I am and I same. I divert of total the world… I almost that nothing not I know. But I disconfide of many things. The Sir, conceding, I say: in order to think long, I am dog master— the Sir loose in mine front an idea ease and I research that by profundity of total the backwoods, amen! Look: the should of to have, was of so reunited-selves the wise, politicos, constitutions graded, closed the definitive the notion— to proclaim for one time, art assemblies, that not have devil notone, not exists, not possible. Valor of law! Solo assuch, they gave tranquility good to the people. Because the government not cares?! Ah, I know that not is possible. Not me settled the Sir for philistine. One this is to place ideas arranged, other is to deal with country of people, of flesh and sanguine, of thousand-and-many miseries… S’many people—gives scare of to know—and notone so calms: All nascenting, crescendoing, so wedding, wanting collocation of employment, consumables, health, abundance, to be important, wanting rain and affairs good… Of luck that lacks of so to choose: or we t’weave of to live in the salacious common, or care solo of religion solo. I could to be: father clergyman, if not chief of jagunços; for other things not was I birthed. But mine oldness yea principaled I erred of total account. And the rheumatism… There as whom says: in the primers. Ahem. Hey? Hey? The that more I think, I testify and explain: all-the-world is mad. The Sir, I, we, the people all. For this is that so lacks principally of religion: in order to desendodorize, to disdodoate. Pray is that heals of lunacy. In the general. This is that is the salvation-of-the-soul…Much religion your servant! I here, not I lose occasion of religion. I profit of all. I drink water of all rivers… One solo, for me is little, maybe not me arrives. I pray christian, catholic, I burrow the certain; and I accept the prayers of compadre mine Quelemem, doctrine of he, of Kardec. But, when I can, I go in the Mindubim, where one Matias is believer, methodist: the people so accuse of sinner, reads high the bible, and why, singing hymns beautiful of his. Total me quiets, me suspends. Whatever small shade me refreshes. But is solo much provisory. I wanted to pray— the time total. Many people not me approve, they think that law of Deus is privileges, invariable. And I! Doof! I Detest! The what I am? — the what I do, that want, much curia. And in face of total I face, executed. I? —not I trammel. Look: I have a black girl, Maria Leoncia, long from here not she lives, the prayers of her afame much virtue of power. Well to her I pay, every month— ordering of to pray for me one third, every saint day, and, on the Sundays, a rosary. Value, so values. Mine woman not sees mal in this. And I am, yea mandated word for an other, of the voyage-voyage, a Izina Calanga, in order to come here, I heard of that prayer too with grand mermermerits, I go to effect with she treatment equal. I want handful of those, me defending in Deus, reunited of me in volta… Cuts of Christ! To live is much perilous… To want the good with too much force, of incertain way, can yea to be being so wanting the mal, per to initiate. These humans! All they pull the world for itself, for the to concert amended. But capita one solo sees and understands the things of one his world. Amountain, the most supro, most serious was Mediero Vaz. That one man ancient… his Joaozy Ben-Ben, the most brave of all, no-one never can decipher how he by inside consisted. Joca Ramiro— grand man prince!— was politico. Zé Bebelo wanted to be politico, but had and not had luck: fox that lingered. So Candelario so demonized, by to think that was with illness mal. Titao Passos was the by the appreciation of friends: solo per via of them, of his same amities, were that such high so ajagunçoed. Antonio Do— severe bandit. But by half, grand majority half that be. Andalecio, in the profound, a good man-of-good, being raving in his total justice. Ricardao, same, wanted was to be rich in peace: for this he warred. Solo the Hermogenes was that born formed tiger, and assassinite. And the “Ofidios White”? Ah, not me speak. Ah this… joyless mischeivious, that was— that was a poor boy of the destiny… So good, congruous. The Sir heard, I you told: the ruin with the ruin, they terminate by the spine-bushes so to crack— Deus awaits that spendance. Boy!: Deus is patience. The contrary, is the devil. So consumes. The Sir file knife on knife— and file— that so they scrape. Even the rocks of the profound, one of in the other, they go-so aroundabounding even, that the rivulet rolls. Per enquantity, that I think, total as hath, in this world, is because so merits and lacks. Afterly precise. Deus not so reports with rifle, not garrotes the regulation. For what? Quit: goof with goof—one day, some illumination and learn: smart. Solo that, at times, for most auxiliar, Deus begets, in the middle, a pinch of pepper… Therebe? Well, for example: some time, I went of train, there in Seven-Lagoons, for parts of to consult a medical, of name me indicated. He went vested well, and in car of first, by via of the doubts, not me they shadowed for jagunço ancient. It goes and happens, that, close same of me, enfront, he took aseat, returning from the wild North, a mac Jazevedao, delegate professionale. Came with a capanga of his, an undercover, and I well knew the two, of that s’much a was ruin, as the other ruin was. The veracity to say, first I had the strict of me to surpasss for one lonng, to mutate of my place. Judgement me told, meliorate stay. Well, looking, I looked. And— you I tell: never I saw face of man furnished of brutez or malady more, of the them in that. As that was ogre, trussed of thickset, relustered of crude in the eyes small, and armed a chin of stone, toweringbrow; not of mid nor forehead. Not laughed, not so laughed not even one time; but, speaking or silent, the people appeared always to him some teeth, prey pointed of canids. Arr, and blustered, an ittybit. Solo growled curt, low, the mid-words grizzled. He came relooking, historicizing the documents— one by one the leaves with portraits and with the blacks of the digits of jagunços, lifters of horses and criminouses of death. That application of work, in one thing of those, generated the ire in the people. The undercover, busybodyguard, total close, seated joined, attending, excelling of to be dog. Me made a dread, but solo in the goof of the corpus, not in the intern of the courages. One hour, one of those reports fell— and I bent quickly, I knew there precisely by why, not I wanted, not I thought— even today I raise shame of this— I picked the paper of the ground, and delivered to him. Thereof, I say: I had more rage, because I did that; but there yea it was done. The man not even me looked, not even said notone thankfulment. Event he soles of the shoes of his— solo looking— that soles rough thick, bent of enormous, appearing iron bronzed. Because I knew: This Jazevedao, when he apprehended someone, the primary quiet thing that proceeded was that he came entering, sans to have to to say, feigning some hurry, and go stepping on the top of the feet of the poorthings. And that on these occasions he gave laughters, gave… Well, geck! I delivered to him the leaf of paper, and went leaving of there, by to have hand on me of not to destroy by shots that subject. Meat that much they weigh… And umbilicated beginning of belly pot bellied, that me created will… With my lightness, joyful that I’d kill. But, the barbarities that this delegate made and happened, the Sir not even has callus in heart to be able me to hear. He achieved of many men and women to cry blood, for the simple universolo ours here. Sertão. The Sir knows: sertão is where mandates who is strong, with the guile. And bullet is a tidbit of metal… S’much, I say: Jazevedao— one assuch, should of to have, needed? Ah, need. Leather ruined is that calls goad of point. That there be that, after— business particular of he— in the life or in the other, each Jazevedao, accomplished the that he has, desclimbs in his time of pain, too, until to pay the that he gave— compadre mine Quelemem is there, in order to fiscalize. The Sir knows: the peril that is to live… But solo of the mode, of these, by ugly instrument, was that the jagunsaga so finished. Sir thinks that Antonio Do or Olivino Oliviano were going to fix goodies by pure spelling of itself, or by begging of the infelicitous, or by always to hear sermon of father? You I think! In the aims… Of jagunço comported active in order so to repent in the middle of his jagunsagas, solo I lay of one: called Joe Cazuzo— was in smashing of one shotshow, for on the summit of the place Sierra New, district of river rusted, on the stream Traçadal. We made mal minority small, and they closed in order summit of us the personnel of one Coronel Adalvino, forted politico, with many soldiers uniformed in the center, commanding of the Lieutenant Epiphany Helm, that after fixed captain. We lasted hour more hour, and yea gave almost of encircled. There, of misslip, that Joe Cazuzo— man much valiant— so kneeled turned on the ground of the thick, lifted the arms that not even shoots of Jatoba dry, and solo yell, howl clear and howl deaf:— “I saw the Virgin Ours, in the resplendor of the Heavens, with her children of angels!... ” He screamed not touched. — “I saw the Virgin!... ” He ensouled? We desequaled. Bolt for my horse—that I thought— I leaped in mal seat, noteven I knew in which rupture-time I unfastened the halter, of tied up it foot of timber. I flew, arrived. Bullet come. The pasture roared. In the brush, the fear of the people so goes to the whole, one fear intentional. I could to lash out, fated burro brute, giv-that, giv-that. Some two or three bullets so drovein the pad of the mine saddle, they perforated of to tear away almost much the kapok of the filling. Horse trembled in pro, in middle of gallop, I know: thinks in the owner. I not fit of to be more well shrunken. Bulleted came to the sack that I had on the back, with few mine things. And other, of fusil, in ricochet decreed, heated my thigh, sans me wound, the Sir see: bullet does the what to want—so pierced impressed, between in me and the harness! Times crazy… Burumbum!: the horse so kneeled in the fall, dead perhaps, and I yea falling for front, embraced in foliage full, branched and linias, that me swayed and skewered, done I was pendulating in web of spider… Whither? I traversed that life total… Of fear of anxiety, I ruptured to read with mine corpus that forest, I know there — and me fell world below, rolled for the hollow of a grotto closed of shrubs, always me grasped— rolled same assuch: after: after, when I saw mine hands, total on they that not was withdrawn sanguine, was smeared green, on the digits, of leaves living that I pulled and mashed… I landed on the sedge of the profound— and a beast dark gave a releap, with a sneeze, too mad of fright: that was a papa-mel, that I descried; in order to flee, this is solely. Bigger being I, me doused mine overcoat; I spigotted total. And of one bit of thought: if that beast irara lying there then there not had cobra. I took the place of his. Existed cobra notone. I could me to lose. I was solo spineless, softness, but that not deadened, inside, the collisions of the heart. I gasped. I conceived that they came, me kill. Not even did mal, me mattered not. Assuch, some moments, at least I guarded the license of term in order me to rest. Conforming I thought in Diadorim. Solo I thought was in he. One joão-congo sang. I wanted to die thinking in my friend Diadorim, hand-o-bro, who was on the Sierra of WoodO’Bow, almost on the border baiana, with our other half of the so-candelarios… With my friend Diadorim me embraced, sentiment my went-flew right for he… Ay, arr, but: that this mine mouth not has order notone. I am accounting outside, things divagated. In the Sir me confide? Til-that, til-that. Say the angel-of-the-guard… But, conforming I came: after so knew, that same the soldiers of the Lieutenant and the goats of Coronel Adalvino remitted of to respect the blast of that Joe Cazuzo. And that this ended being the man most pacificious of the world, fabricator of oil and sacristan, in the Saint Sundays White. Times! For total, cleaned revelation, I fix thinking. I like. Meliorate, for the idea if well to open, is travelling in train-of-iron. Could, lived to top and to bottom, inside of it. Information that I ask: same in the Heavens, end of end, how is that the soul wins so to forget s’much sufferments and maladies, in the received and in the given? The how? The Sir knows: are things of hideous ofmuch, have. Pain of corpus and pain of idea mark forted, that forted as the total love and rage of hate. Goes, sea… Of luck that, then, the Firmiano, by appellationed Louse-of-Snake, so leoprosized with the leg disconformed, thickening, of that disease that not so cures; and not discern almost more, constant the branchials in the eyes, of the cataracts. Of before, years, had to of so disarray of the jagunsaga. Well, one occasion, some was on the ranch of his, on the High Jeuitai, after accounted—that, turns time, comes subject, he would say: “Me give yearning is of to seize a soldier, and such, for one good flay, with knife blind… But, first, to castrate…” The Sir conceive? Who has more dose of demon in self is Indian, any race of brusque. Folk see nation ofthese, for there profound of the generals of Goias, theofwhere has vagarous grand rivers, of aquas always so clear pleasantly, running of down crystal rosed… Louse-of-Snake gave of sanguine of heathen. Sir me will say: but that he pronounced that out of mouth, manner of to represent that yet not was old decadent. Opus of to oppose, for fear of to be tame, and cause in order so to see respected. Total listened for such rule: palavered of ruins, for more so valued, because we to the environs is hard durability. The worst, but, is that they finish, through the same ford, given of one day to execute the declared, in the real. I saw s’much crudity! Pain not pays to account; if I go, I collide. And me dedrip, three that me sicken, this total. Me convokes that the personnel, today in day, is good of heart. This is, good in the trivial. Malices wildwants, and perversities, always have some, but scarcities. Generation mine, true, was not assuch. Ah, goes to turn a time, in which not is used more to kill people… I yea am old. Good, I was saying: question, this that me excavates… Ah, I formed that question, for compadre mine Quelemem. That me responded: that, for close to heaven, we so amplified so, that total the uglies past so exhaled of not to be—fated sans-modus from time of youngster, mal-arts. As we not lack of to have remorse of the which divulged in the pulsation of his nightmares of one night. Assuch that: fleeced-so, flourished-so! Ahem. For this said, is that the journey to the Heavens is delayed. I confide with compadre mine Quelemem, the Sir knows: reason of creed same that has—that, for total the mal, that so does, one day so repays, the exact. Subject assuch rises three times, in ante of to want to facilitate in any minutia reprehensible… Compadre mine Quelemem never speaks vacant, not subtreats. Solo that this to he not I go to expose. We never should have to declare that accept entire the alien—that is what is the rule of the king! The Sir look…see: the most important and beautiful, of the world, is this: that the people are not always same, still were not completed — but that they go always shifting. They tune or detune. Truth major. Is the that the life me taught. This that me animates, mound. And, other thing: the devil and the brutes; but Deus is treacherous! Ah, a beauty of treacherous— gives like! The force of his, when he wants— boy!— me gives the fear dread! Deus comes coming: no one not sees. He does in the law of gentle— assuch is the miracle. And Deus attacks beautiful, so amusing, so economizes. The well: one day in a tannery, the little knife mine I had dropped inside of a tank, solo soup of bark of tan, stryphnodendron adstringens, angico, there I know. —“Tomorrow I try…”— I said, withmyself. Because it was of night, light notone I not disputed. Ah, then, I found: on the other day, early, the knife, the iron of it, had been gnawed, almost by half, by that aqua dark, total quiet. I left, for more to see. Crack, fuse! Know the what was? Well, in that same of afternoon, there: of the little knife solo so found the handle… The handle, for not to be of cold metal, but of horn of deer. There is: Deus… Good, the Sir heard knows, the that knows me understands… We sum, not think that religion fractures. Sir think the contrary. Visible that, those other times, I painted—belief that the neoglaziovia variegata lifts the flower. Ah, good my joy… Boyhood. But boyhood is task for more later so to deny. Too, I of that of to think in vague in s’much, lost mine hand-of-man for the management hot, in the middle of all. But, today, that I ratiocinated, and think the endeavor, not nor for this not I give for low my competence, in a fire-and-iron. The to see. Would approach would come here with war on me, with bad parts, with other laws, or with excessive looks, and I even draw to ignite this zone, ay, if, if! Is in the mouth of the blunderbuss: is in the rete-te-tem… And lonelyonly not I am, there-of-the. For not this, I was I placed encircle my mine people. Look the Sir: here, close, vereda below, the Paspe — cropper my — is mine. More league, if that, have the Herpetotheres, and have the compadre Ciril, him and three children, I know that they serve. Band of that hand, the Alaripe: knew the Sir the that is that so boasts, in rifleation and by the knife, one cearense did this! After more: the João Innatal, the Quipes, Lophiosilurus-of-claws. And the Fafafa— this gave fights high, all side with me, in the combat old of the Anteater-such: we cleaned the wind of whom not had order of to respirate, and ante these we desencompassed… The Fafafa has a mass of mares. He raises horses good. Even a little more distant, on the ped-of-sierra, of band mine was the Sesfred, Jesualdo, the Nelson, and João Concliz. Some others. The Triol… And not I go valuing? I leave terra with them, of theirs the what is mine is, we close that we not even brothers. For what I want to gather richness? They are there, of arms aireated. Enemy to come, we cross called, gathering: is hour of one good shotshowerment in peace, they exp’riment to see. I say this to the Sir, of confidence. Too, not go to think in double. We want is to work, propose tranquility. Of me, person, I live for mine woman, that total mode-meliorate merits, and for the devotion. Well-to want of mine woman was that me assisted, prayers of hers, graces. Love comes of love. I say. In Diadorim, I think too— but Diadorim is the mine nebulina… Now, well: not I wanted to touch on this more— of the Tineaous; arrive. But has a nevertheless: I ask: the Sir believe, think trust of truth in that parlance, of with the demon so to able to deal with pact? No, no is no? I knew that not there. I spoke of favas. But I like of total good confirmation. To vend you proper soul… Inventionate false! And, soul, the what is? Soul of has to be thing internal supremed, much more of the of inside, and is solo, of the that one if thought: ah, soul sheer! Decision of to vend soul is fearless moll, fantasied of moment, has not the obedience legal. Can I to vend those good terras, thereof of between the Veredas-Four— that are of one Mr. Admiral, who resides in the capital federal? Can I some? Then, if one boy boy is, and for this not so authorizes of to negotiate… And we, this I know, at times is solo fated boy. Mal that in mine life I prepared, I was in a certain infancy in dreams — total runs and arrives so swift —; will be that if hath flame of responsibilities? If dream; yea so did… I gave rapadura to the chump! Ahem. Well. If his soul, and has, it is of Deus established, not even that the person want or not want. Not is vendible. The Sir not thinks? Me declare, frank, I beg. Ah, you I appreciate. You so see that the Sir knows much, in idea firm, beyond of to have letter of doctor. You I appreciate, for much. Your company me gives high pleasures. In terms, I liked that I would live here, or close, was a help. Here not so has conviviation that to instruct. Sertão. Knows the Sir: sertão is where the thought of the people so forms more forted of the than power of the place. To live is much perilous… Eh, that you so go? Yeayea? Is that not. Today, no. Tomorrow, no. Not I consense. The Sir me forgive, but in endeavor of mine friendship accept: the Sir stay. After fifth of-morning-early, the Sir wanting to go, then goes, same me leaves feeling your absence. But, today or tomorrow, no. Visit, here in house, with me, is for three days! But, the Sir really intends to trespass the field this sea of territotires, for sortment of to confer the what exists? You have your motives. Now— I say for me — the Sir comes, came late, Times were, the customs mutate. Almost that, of legitimate loyal, little surplus, not even no excess more nothing. The bands good of valientoughs they reparted their end; many who were jagunço, by ouch pain, beg alms. Same as the herdsmen they doubt of to come in the commerce vested of clothes entire of leather, they think that garb of jerkin is ugly and boor. And even the herd in the shrubbed pasture goes waning less mad, more educated: casted of zebu, dissee with the rest of corralers and captiveborns. Always, in the generals is to the poverty, to the sadness. A sadness that even gladdens. But, then, for a crop reasonable of bizzarancies, I recounsel of the Sir to entest journey more dilated. Not were my desmight, by acids and rheumatism, there I went. I guided the Sir till total. March 2013 San Diego, CA ORIGINAL TEXT NONADA. TIROS QUE O SENHOR ouviu foram de briga de homem não, Deus esteja. Alvejei mira em árvores no quintal, no baixo do córrego. Por meu acerto. Todo dia isso faço, gosto; desde mal em minha mocidade. Daí, vieram me chamar. Causa dumbezerro: um bezerro branco, erroso, os olhos de nem ser – se viu –; e com máscara de cachorro. Me disseram; eu não quis avistar. Mesmo que, por defeito como nasceu, arrebitado de beiços, esse figurava rindo feito pessoa. Cara de gente, cara de cão: determinaram – era o demo. Povo prascóvio. Mataram. Dono dele nem sei quem for. Vieram emprestar minhas armas, cedi. Não tenho abusões. O senhor ri certas risadas... Olhe: quando é tiro de verdade, primeiro a cachorrada pega a latir, instantaneamente – depois, então, se vai ver se deu mortos. O senhor tolere, isto é o sertão. Uns querem que não seja: que situado sertão é por os campos-gerais a fora a dentro, eles dizem, fim de rumo, terras altas, demais do Urucuia. Toleima. Para os de Corinto e do Curvelo, então, o aqui não é dito sertão? Ah, que tem maior! Lugar sertão se divulga: é onde os pastos carecem de fechos; onde um pode torar dez, quinze léguas, sem topar com casa de morador; e onde criminoso vive seu cristo-jesus, arredado do arrocho de autoridade. O Urucuia vem dos montões oestes. Mas, hoje, que na beira dele, tudo dá – fazendões de fazendas, almargem de vargens de bom render, as vazantes; culturas que vão de mata em mata, madeiras de grossura, até ainda virgens dessas lá há. O gerais corre em volta. Esses gerais são sem tamanho. Enfim, cada um o que quer aprova, o senhor sabe: pão ou pães, é questão de opiniães... O sertão está em toda a parte. Do demo? Não gloso. Senhor pergunte aos moradores. Em falso receio, desfalam no nome dele – dizem só: o Que-Diga. Vote! não... Quem muito se evita, se convive. Sentença num Aristides – o que existe no buritizal primeiro desta minha mão direita, chamado a Vereda-da-Vaca-Mansa-deSanta-Rita – todo o mundo crê: ele não pode passar em três lugares, designados: porque então a gente escuta um chorinho, atrás, e uma vozinha que avisando: – “Eu já vou! Eu já vou!...” – que é o capiroto, o que-diga... E um José Simpilício – quem qualquer daqui jura ele tem um capeta em casa, miúdo satanazim, preso obrigado a ajudar em toda ganância que executa; razão que o Simpilício se empresa em vias de completar de rico. Apre, por isso dizem também que a besta pra ele rupeia, nega de banda, não deixando, quando ele quer amontar... Superstição. José Simpilício e Aristides, mesmo estão se engordando, de assim nãoouvir ou ouvir. Ainda o senhor estude: agora mesmo, nestes dias de época, tem gente porfalando que o Diabo próprio parou, de passagem, no Andrequicé. Um Moço de fora, teria aparecido, e lá se louvou que, para aqui vir – normal, a cavalo, dum dia-e-meio – ele era capaz que só com uns vinte minutos bastava... porque costeava o Rio do Chico pelas cabeceiras! Ou, também, quem sabe – sem ofensas – não terá sido, por um exemplo, até mesmo o senhor quem se anunciou assim, quando passou por lá, por prazido divertimento engraçado? Há-de, não me dê crime, sei que não foi. E mal eu não quis. Só que uma pergunta, em hora, às vezes, clareia razão de paz. Mas, o senhor entenda: o tal moço, se há, quis mangar. Pois, hem, que, despontar o Rio pelas nascentes, será a mesma coisa que um se redobrar nos internos deste nosso Estado nosso, custante viagem de uns três meses... Então? Que-Diga? Doideira. A fantasiação. E, o respeito de dar a ele assim esses nomes de rebuço, é que é mesmo um querer invocar que ele forme forma, com as presenças! Não seja. Eu, pessoalmente, quase que já perdi nele a crença, mercês a Deus; é o que ao senhor lhe digo, à puridade. Sei que é bem estabelecido, que grassa nos Santos- Evangelhos. Em ocasião, conversei com um rapaz seminarista, muito condizente, conferindo no livro de rezas e revestido de paramenta, com uma vara de maria-preta na mão – proseou que ia adjutorar o padre, para extraírem o Cujo, do corpo vivo de uma velha, na Cachoeira-dos-Bois, ele ia com o vigário do Campo-Redondo... Me concebo. O senhor não é como eu? Não acreditei patavim. Compadre meu Quelemém descreve que o que revela efeito são os baixos espíritos descarnados, de terceira, fuzuando nas piores trevas e com ânsias de se travarem com os viventes – dão encosto. Compadre meu Quelemém é quem muito me consola – Quelemém de Góis. Mas ele tem de morar longe daqui, na Jijujã, Vereda do Buriti Pardo... Arres, me deixe lá, que – em endemoninhamento ou com encosto – o senhor mesmo deverá de ter conhecido diversos, homens, mulheres. Pois não sim? Por mim, tantos vi, que aprendi. Rincha- Mãe, Sangued’Outro, o Muitos-Beiços, o Rasgaem-Baixo, Faca-Fria, o Fancho-Bode, um Treciziano, o Azinhavre... o Hermógenes... Deles, punhadão. Se eu pudesse esquecer tantos nomes... Não sou amansador de cavalos! E, mesmo, quem de si de ser jagunço se entrete, já é por alguma competência entrante do demônio. Será não? Será? De primeiro, eu fazia e mexia, e pensar não pensava. Não possuía os prazos. Vivi puxando difícil de dificel, peixe vivo no moquém: quem mói no asp’ro, não fantaseia. Mas, agora, feita a folga que me vem, e sem pequenos dessossegos, estou de range rede. E me inventei neste gosto, de especular idéia. O diabo existe e não existe? Dou o dito. Abrenúncio. Essas melancolias. O senhor vê: existe cachoeira; e pois? Mas cachoeira é barranco de chão, e água se caindo por ele, retombando; o senhor consome essa água, ou desfaz o barranco, sobra cachoeira alguma? Viver é negócio muito perigoso... Explico ao senhor: o diabo vige dentro do homem, os crespos do homem – ou é o homem arruinado, ou o homem dos avessos. Solto, por si, cidadão, é que não tem diabo nenhum. Nenhum! – é o que digo. O senhor aprova? Me declare tudo, franco – é alta mercê que me faz: e pedir posso, encarecido. Este caso – por estúrdio que me vejam – é de minha certa importância. Tomara não fosse... Mas, não diga que o senhor, assisado e instruído, que acredita na pessoa dele?! Não? Lhe agradeço! Sua alta opinião compõe minha valia. Já sabia, esperava por ela-já o campo! Ah, a gente, na velhice, carece de ter sua aragem de descanso. Lhe agradeço. Tem diabo nenhum. Nem espírito. Nunca vi. Alguém devia de ver, então era eu mesmo, este vosso servidor. Fosse lhe contar... Bem, o diabo regula seu estado preto, nas criaturas, nas mulheres, nos homens. Até: nas crianças – eu digo. Pois não é ditado: “menino – trem do diabo”? E nos usos, nas plantas, nas águas, na terra, no vento... Estrumes. ... O diabo na rua, no meio do redemunho... Hem? Hem? Ah. Figuração minha, de pior pra trás, as certas lembranças. Mal hajame! Sofro pena de contar não... Melhor, se arrepare: pois, num chão, e com igual formato de ramos e folhas, não dá a mandioca mansa, que se come comum, e a mandioca-brava, que mata? Agora, o senhor já viu uma estranhez? A mandioca-doce pode de repente virar azangada – motivos não sei; às vezes se diz que é por replantada no terreno sempre, com mudas seguidas, de manaíbas – vai em amargando, de tanto em tanto, de si mesma toma peçonhas. E, ora veja: a outra, a mandiocabrava, também é que às vezes pode ficar mansa, a esmo, de se comer sem nenhum mal. E que isso é? Eh, o senhor já viu, por ver, a feiúra de ódio franzido, carantonho, nas faces duma cobra cascavel? Observou o porco gordo, cada dia mais feliz bruto, capaz de, pudesse, roncar e engolir por sua suja comodidade o mundo todo? E gavião, corvo, alguns, as feições deles já representam a precisão de talhar para adiante, rasgar e estraçalhar a bico, parece uma quicé muito afiada por ruim desejo. Tudo. Tem até tortas raças de pedras, horrorosas, venenosas – que estragam mortal a água, se estão jazendo em fundo de poço; o diabo dentro delas dorme: são o demo. Se sabe? E o demo – que é só assim o significado dum azougue maligno – tem ordem de seguir o caminho dele, tem licença para campear?! Arre, ele está misturado em tudo. Que o que gasta, vai gastando o diabo de dentro da gente, aos pouquinhos, é o razoável sofrer. E a alegria de amor – compadre meu Quelemém, diz. Família. Deveras? É, e não é. O senhor ache e não ache. Tudo é e não é... Quase todo mais grave criminoso feroz, sempre é muito bom marido, bom filho, bom pai, e é bom amigo-de-seus-amigos! Sei desses. Só que tem os depois – e Deus, junto. Vi muitas nuvens. Mas, em verdade, filho, também, abranda. Olhe: um chamado Aleixo, residente a légua do Passo do Pubo, no da-Areia, era o homem de maiores ruindades calmas que já se viu. Me agradou que perto da casa dele tinha um açudinho, entre as palmeiras, com traíras, pra-almas de enormes, desenormes, ao real, que receberam fama; o Aleixo dava de comer a elas, em horas justas, elas se acostumaram a se assim das locas, para papar, semelhavam ser peixes ensinados. Um dia, só por graça rústica, ele matou um velhinho que por lá passou, desvalido rogando esmola. O senhor não duvide – tem gente, neste aborrecido mundo, que matam só para ver alguém fazer careta... Eh, pois, empós, o resto o senhor prove: vem o pão, vem a mão, vem o são, vem o cão. Esse Aleixo era homem afamilhado, tinha filhos pequenos; aqueles eram o amor dele, todo, despropósito. Dê bem, que não nem um ano estava passado, de se matar o velhinho pobre, e os meninos do Aleixo aí adoeceram. Andaço de sarampão, se disse, mas complicado; eles nunca saravam. Quando, então, sararam. Mas os olhos deles vermelhavam altos, numa inflama de sapiranga à rebelde; e susseguinte – o que não sei é se foram todos duma vez, ou um logo e logo outro e outro – eles restaram cegos. Cegos, sem remissão dum favinho de luz dessa nossa! O senhor imagine: uma escadinha – três meninos e uma menina – todos cegados. Sem remediável. O Aleixo não perdeu o juizo; mas mudou: ah, demudou completo – agora vive da banda de Deus, suando para ser bom e caridoso em todas suas horas da noite e do dia. Parece até que ficou o feliz, que antes não era. Ele mesmo diz que foi um homem de sorte, porque Deus quis ter pena dele, transformar para lá o rumo de sua alma. Isso eu ouvi, e me deu raiva. Razão das crianças. Se sendo castigo, que culpa das hajas do Aleixo aqueles meninozinhos tinham?! Compadre meu Quelemém reprovou minhas incertezas. Que, por certo, noutra vida revirada, os meninos também tinham sido os mais malvados, da massa e peça do pai, demônios do mesmo caldeirão de lugar. Senhor o que acha? E o velhinho assassinado? – eu sei que o senhor vai discutir. Pois, também. Em ordem que ele tinha um pecado de crime, no corpo, por pagar. Se a gente – conforme compadre meu Quelemém é quem diz – se a gente torna a encarnar renovado, eu cismo até que inimigo de morte pode vir como filho do inimigo. Mire veja: se me digo, tem um sujeito Pedro Pindó, vizinho daqui mais seis léguas, homem de bem por tudo em tudo, ele e a mulher dele, sempre sidos bons, de bem. Eles têm um filho duns dez anos, chamado Valtei – nome moderno, é o que o povo daqui agora apreceia, o senhor sabe. Pois essezinho, essezim, desde que algum entendimento alumiou nele, feito mostrou o que é: pedido madrasto, azedo queimador, gostoso de ruim de dentro do fundo das espécies de sua natureza. Em qual que judia, ao devagar, de todo bicho ou criaçãozinha pequena que pega; uma vez, encontrou uma crioula bentabêbada dormindo, arranjou um caco de garrafa, lanhou em três pontos a popa da perna dela. O que esse menino babeja vendo, é sangrarem galinha ou esfaquear porco. – “Eu gosto de matar...” – uma ocasião ele pequenino me disse. Abriu em mim um susto; porque: passarinho que se debruça – o vôo já está pronto! Pois, o senhor vigie: o pai, Pedro Pindó, modo de corrigir isso, e a mãe, dão nele, de miséria e mastro – botam o menino sem comer, amarram em árvores no terreiro, ele nu nuelo, mesmo em junho frio, lavram o corpinho dele na peia e na taca, depois limpam a pele do sangue, com cuia de salmoura. A gente sabe, espia, fica gasturado. O menino já rebaixou de magreza, os olhos entrando, carinha de ossos, encaveirada, e entisicou, o tempo todo tosse, tossura da que puxa secos peitos. Arre, que agora, visível, o Pindó e a mulher se habituaram de nele bater, de pouquinho em pouquim foram criando nisso um prazer feio de diversão – como regulam as sovas em horas certas confortáveis, até chamam gente para ver o exemplo bom. Acho que esse menino não dura, já está no blimbilim, não chega para a quaresma que vem... Uê-uê, então?!Não sendo como compadre meu Quelemém quer, que explicação é que o senhor dava? Aquele menino tinha sido homem. Devia, em balanço, terríveis perversidades. Alma dele estava no breu. Mostrava. E, agora, pagava. Ah, mas, acontece, quando está chorando e penando, ele sofre igual que se fosse um menino bonzinho... Ave, vi de tudo, neste mundo! lá vi até cavalo com soluço... – o que é a coisa mais custosa que há. Bem, mas o senhor dirá, deve de: e no começo – para pecados e artes, as pessoas – como por que foi que tanto emendado se começou? Ei, ei, aí todos esbarram. Compadre meu Quelemém, também. Sou só um sertanejo, nessas altas idéias navego mal. Sou muito pobre coitado. Inveja minha pura é de uns conforme o senhor, com toda leitura e suma doutoração. Não é que eu esteja analfabeto. Soletrei, anos e meio, meante cartilha, memória e palmatória. Tive mestre, Mestre Lucas, no Curralinho, decorei gramática, as operações, regra-de-três, até geografia e estudo pátrio. Em folhas grandes de papel, com capricho tracei bonitos mapas. Ah, não é por falar: mas, desde o começo, me achavam sofismado de ladino. E que eu merecia de ir para cursar latim, em Aula Régia – que também diziam. Tempo saudoso! Inda hoje, apreceio um bom livro, despaçado. Na fazenda O Limãozinho, de um meu amigo Vito Soziano, se assina desse almanaque grosso, de logogrifos e charadas e outras divididas matérias, todo ano vem. Em tanto, ponho primazia é na leitura proveitosa, vida de santo, virtudes e exemplos – missionário esperto engambelando os índios, ou São Francisco de Assis, Santo Antônio, São Geraldo... Eu gosto muito de moral. Raciocinar, exortar os outros para o bom caminho, aconselhar a justo. Minha mulher, que o senhor sabe, zela por mim: muito reza. Ela é uma abençoável. Compadre meu Quelemém sempre diz que eu posso aquietar meu temer de consciência, que sendo bem-assistido, terríveis bons-espíritos me protegem. Ipe! Com gosto... Como é de são efeito, ajudo com meu querer acreditar. Mas nem sempre posso. O senhor saiba: eu toda a minha vida pensei por mim, forro, sou nascido diferente. Eu sou é eu mesmo. Diverjo de todo o mundo... Eu quase que nada não sei. Mas desconfio de muita coisa. O senhor concedendo, eu digo: para pensar longe, sou cão mestre – o senhor solte em minha frente uma idéia ligeira, e eu rastreio essa por fundo de todos os matos, amém! Olhe: o que devia de haver, era de se reunirem-se os sábios, políticos, constituições gradas, fecharem o definitivo a noção – proclamar por uma vez, artes assembléias, que não tem diabo nenhum, não existe, não pode. Valor de lei! Só assim, davam tranqüilidade boa à gente. Por que o Governo não cuida?! Ah, eu sei que não é possível. Não me assente o senhor por beócio. Uma coisa é pôr idéias arranjadas, outra é lidar com país de pessoas, de carne e sangue, de mil-e-tantas misérias... Tanta gente – dá susto de saber – e nenhum se sossega: todos nascendo, crescendo, se casando, querendo colocação de emprego, comida, saúde, riqueza, ser importante, querendo chuva e negócios bons... De sorte que carece de se escolher: ou a gente se tece de viver no safado comum, ou cuida só de religião só. Eu podia ser: padre sacerdote, se não chefe de jagunços; para outras coisas não fui parido. Mas minha velhice já principiou, errei de toda conta. E o reumatismo... Lá como quem diz: nas escorvas. Ahã. Hem? Hem? O que mais penso, testo e explico: todo-omundo é louco. O senhor, eu, nós, as pessoas todas. Por isso é que se carece principalmente de religião: para se desendoidecer, desdoidar. Reza é que sara da loucura. No geral. Isso é que é a salvaçãoda- alma... Muita religião, seu moço! Eu cá, não perco ocasião de religião. Aproveito de todas. Bebo água de todo rio... Uma só, para mim é pouca, talvez não me chegue. Rezo cristão, católico, embrenho a certo; e aceito as preces de compadre meu Quelemém, doutrina dele, de Cardéque. Mas, quando posso, vou no Mindubim, onde um Matias é crente, metodista: a gente se acusa de pecador, lê alto a Bíblia, e ora, cantando hinos belos deles. Tudo me quieta, me suspende. Qualquer sombrinha me refresca. Mas é só muito provisório. Eu queria rezar – o tempo todo. Muita gente não me aprova, acham que lei de Deus é privilégios, invariável. E eu! Bofe! Detesto! O que sou? – o que faço, que quero, muito curial. E em cara de todos faço, executado. Eu não tresmalho! Olhe: tem uma preta, Maria Leôncia, longe daqui não mora, as rezas dela afamam muita virtude de poder. Pois a ela pago, todo mês – encomenda de rezar por mim um terço, todo santo dia, e, nos domingos, um rosário. Vale, se vale. Minha mulher não vê mal nisso. E estou, já mandei recado para uma outra, do Vau-Vau, uma Izina Calanga, para vir aqui, ouvi de que reza também com grandes meremerências, vou efetuar com ela trato igual. Quero punhado dessas, me defendendo em Deus, reunidas de mim em volta... Chagas de Cristo! Viver é muito perigoso... Querer o bem com demais força, de incerto jeito, pode já estar sendo se querendo o mal, por principiar. Esses homens! Todos puxavam o mundo para si, para o concertar consertado. Mas cada um só vê e entende as coisas dum seu modo. Montante, o mais supro, mais sério – foi Medeiro Vaz. Que um homem antigo... Seu Joãozinho Bem-Bem, o mais bravo de todos, ninguém nunca pôde decifrar como ele por dentro consistia. Joca Ramiro – grande homem príncipe! – era político. Zé- Bebelo quis ser político. (shrink)

Aunque debería parecer evidente, la necesaria relación entre Universidad y verdad se ve con frecuencia obscurecida por las tendencias relativistas y por la primacía de lo práctico y lo útil propias de nuestra época. Sobre este trasfondo y para redescubrir y calibrar la importancia de la verdad como misión esencial de la Universidad, el artículo intenta describir en primer lugar la situación cultural presente en relación con la verdad; indaga, en un segundo momento, en un sentido de verdad que se (...) enmarca en el orden del amor —y no sólo del pensamiento—; y finalmente justifica por qué la Universidad sólo puede ser tal en la medida en que se dedica a buscar, encontrar y comunicar la verdad en una tensión y con un ímpetu que tienen que darse precisamente en el orden del amor. (shrink)

Let A be a standard transitive admissible set. Σ 1 -separation is the principle that whenever X and Y are disjoint Σ A 1 subsets of A then there is a Δ A 1 subset S of A such that $X \subseteq S$ and $Y \cap S = \varnothing$ . Theorem. If A satisfies Σ 1 -separation, then (1) If $\langle T_n\mid n is a sequence of trees on ω each of which has at most finitely many infinite paths in (...) A then the function $n\mapsto$ (set of infinite paths in A through T n ) is in A. (2) If A is not closed under hyperjump and α = On A then A has in it a nonstandard model of V = L whose ordinal standard part is α. Theorem. Let α be any countable admissible ordinal greater than ω. Then there is a model of Σ 1 -separation whose height is α. (shrink)

La obra de Laín Entralgo se fundamenta principalmente en la preocupación por el ser humano, por sus interrogantes, sus necesidades y las respuestas que puede obtener en el transcurso de su vida. La maduración de su pensamiento hacia este tema viene dada de una estructura dinámica del ser humano. Es una crítica a Marcel y Paul Ricoeur, al desconocimiento zubiriano de una teoría filosófica del ser humano como actualización y presencia física de un animal de realidades. Para Laín la realidad (...) humana es la compresión de la realidad del hombre a través de su realidad constitutiva, de su realidad dinámica, de su realidad copartícipe con el cosmos y de su realidad conductual. (shrink)

A teoria das virtudes epistêmicas (VE) sustenta que as virtudes dos agentes, tais como a imparcialidade ou a permeabilidade intelectual, ao invés de crenças específicas, devem estar no centro da avaliação epistêmica, e que os indivíduos que possuem essas virtudes estão mais bem-posicionados epistemicamente do que se não as tivessem, ou, pior ainda, do que se tivessem os vícios correspondentes: o preconceito, o dogmatismo, ou a impermeabilidade intelectual. Eu argumento que a teoria VE padece de um grave defeito, porque fracassa (...) ao se ajustar à natureza social dos questionamentos (epistêmicos) típicos. Esse e outros defeitos relacionados a esse infectam o paralelo que os teóricos VE traçam entre virtudes epistêmicas e morais. Ao prometer o incremento na proporção de crenças verdadeiras sobre crenças falsas, ou ignorância, as virtudes epistêmicas não podem desempenhar um papel paralelo àquele que Aristóteles reserva às virtudes morais ao prometer o incremento em nossa felicidade e no bem-estar da comunidade. A minha rota para essas críticas é feita das razões sobre por que os agentes (sociais) devem buscar a obtenção de seus objetivos morais e epistêmicos diferentemente nos papéis que atribuem às virtudes. PALAVRAS-CHAVES – Virtude epistêmica. Divisão de trabalho epistêmico. Diversidade. Conhecimento. Falibilidade. Virtude moral. ABSTRACT Epistemic Virtue (EV) theory holds that virtues of agents, like impartiality or openmindedness, rather than specific beliefs, should be at the center of epistemological evaluation, and that individuals with those virtues are better positioned epistemically than if they lacked them or, worse, if they instead had the corresponding vices: prejudice, dogmatism, or close-mindedness. I argue that EV theory suffers from a serious flaw because it fails to accommodate to the social nature of typical (epistemic) inquiries. This and related flaws infect the parallel that EV theorists allege between epistemic and moral virtues. In promising to improve our ratio of true beliefs to either false beliefs or ignorance, the epistemic virtues cannot play a roll parallel to that which Aristotle claims for the moral virtues in promising to increase our happiness and the well-being of the community. The path to these criticisms I introduce by offering reasons for why (social) agents should seek to realize their epistemic and moral goals very differently in the respective roles they accord to the virtues. KEY WORDS – Epistemic virtue. Division of epistemic labor. Diversity. Knowledge. Fallibility. Moral virtue. (shrink)

We've pursued and achieved the modern dream of defining ourselves-but at what cost? The New York Post op-ed editor makes a compelling case for seeking the inherited traditions and ideals that give our lives meaning. As a young father and a self-proclaimed "radically assimilated immigrant," opinion editor Sohrab Ahmari realized that when it comes to shaping his young son's moral fiber, today's America comes up short. For millennia, the world's great ethical and religious traditions taught that true happiness lies in (...) pursuing virtue and accepting limits. But now, unbound from these stubborn traditions, we are free to choose whichever way of life we think is most optimal-or, more often than not, merely the easiest. All that remains are the fickle desires that a wealthy, technologically advanced society is equipped to fulfill. The result is a society riven by deep conflict and individual lives that, for all their apparent freedom, are marked by alienation and stark unhappiness. In response to this crisis, Ahmari offers twelve questions for us to grapple with-twelve timeless, fundamental queries that challenge our modern certainties. Among them: Is God reasonable? What is freedom for? What do we owe our parents, our bodies, one another? Exploring each question through the life and ideas of great thinkers, from Saint Augustine to Howard Thurman and from Abraham Joshua Heschel to Andrea Dworkin, Ahmari invites us to examine the hidden assumptions that drive our behavior and, in so doing, recapture a more humane way of living in a world that has lost its way. (shrink)

Ölüm her canlı için kaçınılmaz bir gerçekliktir. Bu kaçınılmaz gerçeğin farkında olmasına rağmen insan, her ölümden az veya çok etkilenir. Fakat sevilen veya kendisine sevgiden daha fazla değer yüklenen kişilerin ölümü, daha acı ve derin bir sürecin yaşanmasına sebep olur. Yas süreci denen bu evre genel olarak şok, özleme, yeniden yapılanıp kendine gelme ve kimliği yeniden kurma gibi aşamalardan oluşur. Böyle değer verilen kişilerin ardından yaşanan ölüm acısının en karakteristik örneklerinden biri Hz. Peygamber’in vefatı üzerine sahâbede görülür. Bütün sahâbe içinde (...) Hz. Ömer’in ortaya koyduğu tavır ise çok daha farklı bir yere sahiptir. Zira o Allah Rasûlü’nün öldüğünü kesin bir dille reddetmiş, bayılmış olabileceğini söylemiş veya vahiy aldığı anlarda yaşadığı hale büründüğünü savunmuştur. Ona göre Hz. Peygamber ölmüş olsa bile Allah Teâlâ O’nu yeniden diriltecektir. Bu tavır, ilk bakışta, İslâm’ın yaşam ve ölüm olaylarına bakışı ve ayrıca İslâm tarihinde Hz. Ömer ile özdeşleşmiş ideal Müslüman tipi ile çelişiyor görünmektedir. Makalede öncelikle, bazı kitaplarda Hz. Ömer’e nispetle nakledilen bu sözlerin Hadis Usûlü kurallarına göre sahih olup olmadığına dair değerlendirmeler yapılmıştır. (shrink)