Tuesday, March 09, 2010

Guafi

Fihu hinasso-ku na ti nahong i tiempo-ku gi este na mundo. Meggai na malago bai hu cho’gue, lao ti siña hu na’fanhuyong todu i minalago-hu, put i ti nahong na tiempo, pat ti nahong i fuetså-ku.

Achokka' todu i taotao siha ma hasso este na hinasso gi i lina'la'-ñiha, likidu i sinieñte para kada na taotao.

Guaha ha'åni nai siniente-ku na ti nahong i oras, ti nahong i dihas, ya maskeseha hu hago' 100 años gi este na lina'la'-hu, ti nanahong ha'.

Lao guaha otro ha'åni, nai sinieñte-ku na taibali i oras gi i dihå-hu siha. Na gi i lina'la'-hu, meggai na debi di hu cho'gue (achokka' buente ti malago yu'), ya todu este siha magagasta.

Sesso annai tinemba yu' (mana'triste yu') put este na kosas, guaha un sinangan hu hahasso.

I fine'nina nai hu hungok este na sinangan gi i kachido Star Trek: Generations. Gi ayu na mubi, guaha un petsona, ya para Guiya, "tiempo" yan i oras gi kada diha, kalang un malamana na birak. Kinakahatgue gui' ni' este na birak, todu i tiempo, kalang i anineng-na. Unu ha’ minalago-ña este na taotao, ya ti na’para’on gui’. Gi todu i bidå-ña, ha tutugong mo’na para u na’fanhuyong i guinife-ña. Lao ka ha hulat tumaka’ ayu antes di humokkok i tiempo-ña?

Este na taotao, ha sangåni i Kapitan i Enterprise, Si Jean Luc-Picard ni' este:

"Time is the fire in which we burn."

Kada diha, annai hu siesieñte na mana'lastitima i taitahgue na tiempo-ku gi este na tano', ha na'hasso yu' ni' este na sinangan. Gi ayu na momento, ha liliku'i yu' un guafi, ya todu i dinisehå-hu siha, todu i minalago-hu siha, todu i guinife-hu siha, mankikimason siha gi ayu na guafi.

Ayu na sinangan, matuge' fine'nina gi un betsu. I na'an-na i betsu "Calmly We Walk Through this April's Day" by Delmore Schwartz.

Para bai hu na'chetton i palabras-na guini pappa' gi este na post.

Calmly We Walk Through This April's Day
by Delmore Schwartz

Calmly we walk through this April's day,
Metropolitan poetry here and there,
In the park sit pauper and rentier,
The screaming children, the motor-car
Fugitive about us, running away,
Between the worker and the millionaire
Number provides all distances,
It is Nineteen Thirty-Seven now,
Many great dears are taken away,
What will become of you and me
(This is the school in which we learn...)
Besides the photo and the memory?
(...that time is the fire in which we burn.)

(This is the school in which we learn...)
What is the self amid this blaze?
What am I now that I was then
Which I shall suffer and act again,
The theodicy I wrote in my high school days
Restored all life from infancy,
The children shouting are bright as they run
(This is the school in which they learn...)
Ravished entirely in their passing play!
(...that time is the fire in which they burn.)

Avid its rush, that reeling blaze!
Where is my father and Eleanor?
Not where are they now, dead seven years,
But what they were then?
No more? No more?
From Nineteen-Fourteen to the present day,
Bert Spira and Rhoda consume, consume
Not where they are now (where are they now?)
But what they were then, both beautiful;

Each minute bursts in the burning room,
The great globe reels in the solar fire,
Spinning the trivial and unique away.
(How all things flash! How all things flare!)
What am I now that I was then?
May memory restore again and again
The smallest color of the smallest day:
Time is the school in which we learn,
Time is the fire in which we burn.

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