Re: DASHURIA E VERTETE JETON E MBIJETON CDO VESHTERSI
Po citoj Hobbes: "...and the life of man,is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short."...and I agree. Por spo ndalem ketu. Kjo ishte me teper si 'epilog' per ate qe dua te them.
Ne Anglisht fjala 'love' ose 'dashuri' ne Shqip vjen nga format Gjermanike te Sanskrit dhe do te thote thjesht "te deshirosh". Per te patur nje kuptim me te mire ne lidhje me 'dashurine' referenca i behen dhe Greqishtes ne termat: eros, philia, dhe agape. Te studiuarit e 'dashurise' behet ne nivele te ndryshme: epistemology, metaphysics, religion, human nature, politics and ethics. (Perkethejini vete lol).
Plato shkruan: "he who loves the beautiful is called a lover because he partakes of it." Pra, ideja Platonike perkthehet ndryshe ne 'bukuri ideale'. Aristoteli pastaja ndalet tek dashuria midis miqve (philia) e me pas ndalemi tek dashuria 'prinderore' midis njeriut dhe Zotit...Ok, nje historik interesant por i merzitshem...vazhdojme me tutje.
Pra, ka lloje e soje dashurish.
Le te supozojme se dashuria ka 'nature' ka 'mode': Nqs dashuria do te ishte thjesht nje ndjenje, emocion atehere shume qartasi mund te diskutojme qe dashuria mbetet nje fenomenon privat/intim, e pa mundur qe te tjeter te kene akses apo mundesi nderhyrje, pervecse duke perdorur fjalet, por fjalet nga ana tjeter jane nje tregues i varfer i ndjenjes qofte te degjuesit apo dhe te thenesit. Thuren poezi, kompozohen kenge e melodi, ndertohen projekte e ndertesa, pikturohen piktura...e njeren e tjetren per hir te dashurise...dhe me pas hic. Dashuronte si i marre Henry VIII dhe kokat ja u prente cupezave, dashuronte ne 'pafundesine e dashurise' Markezi, e na e quajten pervert...
Gjithesesi, thoni ju :"por le te dale dikush te thote qe pavaresisht ngjyres, kjo ndjenje nuk ka qene apo eshte ne mos me e forta, midis me te fortave."...umm: "Dashuria eshte genjeshter"- them une- "Eshte thjesht pasqyrim i asaj qe duam te shohim ne. Eshte nje mjet manipulimi. Dhe kam shkruar diku qe njeriu urren me te njejten force qe dashuron, keshtu qe po, ka ndjenja me te fuqishme se dashuria."
Nqs duhet thene: "Dashuria eshte gje e bukur, dashuria eshte drita, dashuria eshte lumturia, dashuria eshte gjithe bota"- thjesht per te vene ne qetesi ndergjegjen e njeriut dhe per te mos i "trembur" me "mungesen e saj"...atehere le te thuhet. Une perseri nuk mendoj keshtu.
P.S:
Sa per xhveshjen e njeriut nga njenjat, duhet te vizitoni me shpesh New York.
Edhe per ju romantiket:
"'Tis Said, That Some Have Died For Love"- William Wordsworth
'Tis said, that some have died for love:
And here and there a churchyard grave is found
In the cold north's unhallowed ground,
Because the wretched man himself had slain,
His love was such a grievous pain.
And there is one whom I five years have known;
He dwells alone
Upon Helvellyn's side:
He loved--the pretty Barbara died;
And thus he makes his moan:
Three years had Barbara in her grave been laid
When thus his moan he made:
"Oh, move, thou Cottage, from behind that oak!
Or let the aged tree uprooted lie,
That in some other way yon smoke
May mount into the sky!
The clouds pass on; they from the heavens depart.
I look--the sky is empty space;
I know not what I trace;
But when I cease to look, my hand is on my heart.
"Oh! what a weight is in these shades! Ye leaves,
That murmur once so dear, when will it cease?
Your sound my heart of rest bereaves,
It robs my heart of peace.
Thou Thrush, that singest loud--and loud and free,
Into yon row of willows flit,
Upon that alder sit;
Or sing another song, or choose another tree.
"Roll back, sweet Rill! back to thy mountain-bounds,
And there for ever be thy waters chained!
For thou dost haunt the air with sounds
That cannot be sustained;
If still beneath that pine-tree's ragged bough
Headlong yon waterfall must come,
Oh let it then be dumb!
Be anything, sweet Rill, but that which thou art now.
"Thou Eglantine, so bright with sunny showers,
Proud as a rainbow spanning half the vale,
Thou one fair shrub, oh! shed thy flowers,
And stir not in the gale.
For thus to see thee nodding in the air,
To see thy arch thus stretch and bend,
Thus rise and thus descend,--
Disturbs me till the sight is more than I can dear."
The Man who makes this feverish complaint
Is one of giant stature, who could dance
Equipped from head to foot in iron mail.
Ah gentle Love! if ever thought was thine
To store up kindred hours for me, thy face
Turn from me, gentle Love! nor let me walk
Within the sound of Emma's voice, nor know
Such happiness as I have known to-day.
Teme e papershtatshme per postimin tim, e di.
