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Parable secular



George Orwell (Eric Arthur Blair / 1903-1950)
Animal Farm (1945)
(The Library of the Republic - Translation Bruno Tasso)
.
story of a small revolution, came as a liberation and turned into a dictatorship. How many dictatorships and political systems of various kinds could rinonoscersi in this story? A lot. Certainly looked a lot like the last events of the Soviet Union when the author tried to publish it and did not find it easy to find a publisher who would risk the possible attacks of the left or the susceptibility of certain nations. In this regard, it is very interesting to read the pages that accompany the story, entitled "Freedom of the press (translated by Elena Albertini) of that Orwell. Both the story as the reflections in the media seem to me most modern (and the reasons are so many that everyone could refer to several examples, and almost against).
"Animal Farm" is an excellent tale, a parable secular as they write on the cover. How can we not recognize the symptoms of any greed for power, each cultural manipulation, exploitation of any of the good faith of those who have the means to contradict, and any indoctrination at the expense of happiness during the brief lives of living beings. What a delight
those commandments written on the wall of the farm, when the fervor of the right given to man master, cruel, exploitative, but then modified by adding a few words saying that those two words have always been there, so the most can not read beyond the first few letters of the alphabet. An example: "No animal can kill another animal" at the appropriate time will be extended with "no reason" to justify certain executions. It is a delight for the sheep bleating for years, for hundreds of rallies and meetings, and nonsense about the slogan "Four legs good, two legs bad" (remember that men are always evil and animals always potential victims of 'Man), when the group of pigs (which is always treated better than the other animals under the guise of lead, think and plan for the benefit of all), that is, learn to walk and stay upright, wearing pants the old master, combined with a whip, that's them, the sheep, with the same enthusiasm as always howl slightly modified slogan: "Four legs good, two legs better .
At that point the majority of animals on the farm was purchased, few remember why and how the current system, very few remember what life was like with Mr. Jones and his wife, hardly anyone remembers the early heroes of the uprising. Napoleon (the pig in charge of all) has become a nightmare as it was Mr. Jones.
G eniale, tender and outrageous, cruel and authentic history, always possible. ---

Benjamin felt a nose rubbing against her shoulder. Looked. It was Bertha. His old eyes were misted more than ever. Without a word, pulled him gently to his mane and led him into the big barn where the Seven Commandments were written. For a moment he stood staring at the dark wall and white letters.
"My view is weakened," he said finally. "Even when I was young I could not read what was written here. But I think that the wall is another aspect. The Seven Commandments are the same as before Benjamin?"
For once Benjamin consented to break his rule and he read what was written on the wall. There was nothing written, except a single Commandment. He said:
............... ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL
BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE 'OTHER EQUAL
.
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--------- PS: Happy New Year to you readers / readers of this blog and I invite you to review the last post of previous years: in 2008
: UNFORGETTABLE
and 2009: THE BARBARIAN IN U.S.
Time passes.
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The thunder rumbles in the sky.

... but someone said that the king was yet to come.

We laughed and answered: "No, can not be!"

seemed to knock on the door

But someone said, "is the messenger!"

We laughed and answered: "No, be the wind!"

The earth gave a start, the walls shook in his sleep and caught us a big concern.

But someone said it was the sound of the wheels.

"No, it's just the rumbling of clouds!"

The night was still dark when the drum sounded.

He heard a voice: "Wake up! Do not waste time!"

shook hands at the heart trembling with fear.

It was the king.

But where were the lights and garlands of flowers?

Where the throne to sit him?

Oh shame, terrible shame!

Someone said: "Needless to cry! Receive him with empty hands"

Get your tattered piece of mat and spread it in the yard.

[...] With the storm

suddenly

reached our King [...]

[...] our house dark and sad [...]

Tagore.

[Gitanjali]

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Alive.

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live within the shadow of your first part irrational.

He had no fear ...

[Here. You found it.

takes your brain, breaks, fueling the hypocrisy of your soul, your eyes dry up.

Look at him eat all you got deeper.

do not know him but you know it. Escapes you, but never wants to run out.

rejoice when you scratch.

When you're unhappy lights.

You wonder when it will end but in the meantime, he devours the seconds, minutes, hours, the days, years and your time.

then leaves you there, alone, wondering if it was real.

But come back.]

... but he was wrong.

were more afraid than ever.

[Happiness is the same as everything you need to secure the good of the soul.

Happiness is the same as well.

Well equals virtue.

Virtue equals happiness]

But this is the only thing you need to your soul?

Now you feel virtuous because you are getting good.

You should hear him happiness but it is not because ...

[Here. You found it.

But you can not take it.

And if I had not really found?]

... because maybe it's just the idea.

or maybe not.

[armies of those 'irrational.]

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Did you create yourself. Your hand, your soul and your body as a whole. Meanwhile

There was no cold or at least he did not hear him.

"Can you feel?"

"I think so," he said, frowning, then looked down.

He was silent for a moment, took a deep breath savoring the essence of that breath of air. Now I was feeling.

"What do they say?"

"I'm just simply screams"

"You should try to concentrate better."

So he tried to repeat that action, as was routine.

his hands to his temples, closing eyes, squeeze gradually.

"I'm tired." He sighed.

Jack rose from his chair and went up to about ten centimeters from his face. "You can not afford to be tired," said enunciating each well single syllable.

He stood a moment of silence.

Another sigh, this time more intense.

"Some are of joy, some pain, others do not have feelings. "

Jack nodded satisfied tone." What do you mean? "Churches.

" It seems to simulate the falsetto, or are they just screaming. "

" Maybe they want to get noticed? "

"What sense would it?" he frowned.

"As soon as you will understand the sentiment behind those voices are able to respond."

"They have no feeling."

remained some seconds in silence, with the same look that accompanied him for a year now, impassive. He began fiddling with her fingers, smiled in a vacuum.

"Can I go?" He asked.

Jack stared for a moment, as if to study her expression seemingly clear but cold reality.

"Go," she smiled.

He got up and walked to stride toward the door.

"Jack?", He called her back to him. "I am tired a lot." She turned to him. He sighed and opened the door, looking down.

"I think those voices you want to get noticed," said Jack.

This time he turned, put his hand on the handle and shook, he stopped. Then he pushed it down firmly and left without closing the door.

Dr. Clipse watched him go with empty hand.

"You were free, innocent, believe in a happy ending.

The days turned into years.

Now if here.

With your mind to pieces.

Your dreams are sleeping peacefully.

Do you think you have no choice.

But look at the Earth.

look at what we do.

Can you feel it? "

I remember so many plants, a clear sky over my head, no sophisticated game, then we could have fun with a little.

I remember my country was small and we were not so many, I liked living there, I expected to be free but in reality I was not.

I remember my mother, her eyes were beautiful and looked at me when you read the most simple and pure to love a person.

remember a cabin.

remember my passions, is always kept constant over time.

remember to have been different, but in my carelessness I had no idea that I would be forever.

Remembrance of loose papers, a pen and wrote some thoughts in every moment of the day.

remember a bustle of people, times, locations, space of time.

I remember the screams.

I remember a voice.

I remember a room, a desk in the center, behind a window and a large black door, lucida.Un tall, thin, elegant, with white hair and small rimless glasses.

Rircordo a rustle.

tortures me.

do not feel it, but I remember it.

For a moment you could hear a person like many others, but what is the point in living a life that is not yours?

choose that path you've decided to share it with billions and billions of people, and now, like it or not, a bit 'of your life belongs to them.

You can not go back, it might be your right but you can not.

can not afford to lose any more time and time can not lose you.

repropose of words, poetry around which your life has turned and turned for years and years.

words that have excited some, caused tears, sad, made me happy, aroused feelings of new, surprised.

It is this feeling that you were looking for, what lives behind the screams memories.

Those screaming cry, feel the power of words, they cry for attention from you, thank you also because their life is different now.

But you know what I know myself.

his hands to his temples, close your eyes, squeeze gradualmente.

Sentiva le urla.

Le sentiva si, come al solito,ma adesso erano chiare, perfette, intense.

Ricordò quanto gli piacevano.

Adesso ricordava.

Adesso sentiva.

Sentiva tante piante, un cielo limpido sopra la sua testa.

Sentiva un via vai di persone, di momenti, di luoghi, di spazio, di tempo.

Ricordava e sentiva il sentimento di quelle urla che non era riuscito a comprendere.

Erano davanti a sé adesso e sapeva che mai più se ne sarebbe allontanato.

felt a rustle.

heard the screams.

Even the rustling

hear the screams in the middle of the rustling, had always been one thing.

[silence. can. destroy.]

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torments you with the herbs in your footsteps.

"Step into a garden of plants, herbs, flowers. Be it as you like laughing. Both in milder season. You can not turn our eyes in any part that you do not find the suffering. All of this family of plants is in a state of souffrance, what individual more, some less.

There is offended that rose from the sun, which gave him life, wrinkled, langue, it withers. Beyond that lily is cruelly sucked by a bee in his most sensitive parts, the most vital. The dessert apples can not be manufactured by the industrious, patient, good, virtuous bees without unspeakable torments of those delicate fibers without ruthless massacre of sweet flowers. That tree is haunted by an ant hill, from that other caterpillars, flies, from snails, mosquito, and that is injured cruciate in the bark and from the air or the sun that penetrates into the wound, the one is offended in the trunk, or roots other one has more leaves, this one is eaten, bitten in the flowers, the pierced, pricked fruits. That plant is too hot, this is too cool, too light, too much shade, too wet, too dry. One is suffering inconvenience and obstacle and grow in size, the spread, the other is not to stand on, or fatigued and struggling to get there.

In the garden you can not find a single seedling in a state of perfect health. Here is a little branch or broken by the wind or its own weight, and there is a zephyr tearing a flower, fly with a song, a filament, a leaf, a living part of this or that plant, detached and torn away.

meantime you heartbreaks herbs co 'your steps, the crush, the bruised, they squeeze blood, break it, kill them. That maiden sensitive and gentle, be gentle bush, and breaking legs. The wise gardener truncating, cutting limbs sensitive adhesives nails, with the iron.

course, these plants live, some because their illnesses are not fatal, because even with other fatal diseases, plants, and animals also may take some little time to live. The spectacle of such abundance of life enters into this garden has welcomed the soul, and here is that this seems to be a holiday of joy. But in truth that life is sad and unfortunate, every garden is almost a welcoming large (more deplorable that a well-cemeterio), and if these beings feel, or want to say, feel, it is certain that it would not be much better for them that being. "

not only men, but the human race was and will always be unhappy necessity. Not only mankind but all animals. Not only animals but all other beings in their own way. Not individuals, but the species, genera, kingdoms, globes, systems, worlds.

G. Leopardi

[the garden of suffering.]

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Reckless.

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Not paying attention to your eyes. You

" Your body is just your thinking, a form of your thoughts,

visible concrete. "

" Break the chains that imprison the thought, and even

your body will be free.

You can get anywhere in space and time.

Look with your understanding, find out what you already know.

then learn how to fly. "

- He learned to fly,

and do not regret the price he had paid. He found them

boredom and fear and anger

to make such a short life of a seagull -

Richard. Bach.

[... the gull that lives deep within us all.]

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[not] laugh. or empty skull.

A character, sir, you can always ask a man who he is.

Because a character has a really his life, marked by its characters, it is always someone. As a man, a man so generally can not be anyone.

or empty human skull.

"You perhaps nothing m 'would have taught

when a brain is a close and thoughts;

hours m' teach us to laugh at fate, and

live life - the only ver.

I bought a wax mask,

that pretends to face a gentle lady

So from my table by

a beautiful song of 'I love compose;

and then to you, doing a grave bow, the

read the light of the moon.

You most certainly not me 'the loderai,

and then I'll tell you with great ardor:

"Beautiful girl, do not you give that praise, praise

I do not want, but I want your heart "

But in this case, it is known,

Val is the silence, and I'll fall at your feet, and I'll tell

... You laugh, or empty skull

that silly life! I seem to laugh at yourself "

L. Pirandello

[A, none, hundred thousand. The Mask.]

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Hollywood on the Tiber.

"It 's all in your head.

remains, however, that's all.

E' in the head are the best stars

only the best that gives "

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Bliss.

Your freedom takes shape in a natural way.

Give me all the peace and joy in your mind.

Now I do not settle for less.

I want the peace and joy in your mind.