• the x-files 4. sezon 15. bölümü. konuyu anlatmayacağım. söyleceğim 1-2 şey var sadece.

    •ariel'i oynayan yahudi kız çok güzeldi; sadece güzel de değil huzur vericiydi resmen:/

    •mulder'ın nazi herif laf soktuğu sahne muhteşemdi. pek spoiler sayılmaz ama isterseniz okumayın.

    --- spoiler ---
    scully: you haven't heard the rumors ?
    herif: what rumors ?
    scully: that luria is back from the dead. that he’s risen from his grave.
    herif: what kind of jew trick is this ?
    mulder: (isa'yı kastederek) a jew pulled it off 2000 years ago. [bunu derken başını hareket ettirip bi gülüşü, scully'nin de bi sırıtışı var ki içimin yağları eridi resmen:) çıkarken de adam "bless you" kondurur bi tane...]

    türkçe:
    scully: söylentileri duymadınız mı?
    herif: ne söylentisi?
    scully: luria'nın hayata geri döndüğünü, mezarından dirilip geldiğini...
    herif: nasıl bir yahudi numarası bu böyle?!
    mulder: (isa'yı kastederek) valla bir yahudi 2000 sene önce size çekmişti aynı numarayı.
    --- spoiler ---
  • no more to say, and nothing to weep for but the beings in the dream, trapped in its disappearance,
    sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worshipping each other,
    worshipping the god included in it all—longing or inevitability?—while it lasts, a vision—anything more?

    ....
    there, rest. no more suffering for you. ı know where you’ve gone, it’s good.
    no more flowers in the summer fields of new york, no joy now, no more fear of louis,
    and no more of his sweetness and glasses, his high school decades, debts, loves, frightened telephone calls, conception beds, relatives, hands—
    no more of sister elanor,.—she gone before you—we kept it secret—you killed her—or she killed herself to bear with you—an arthritic heart—but death’s killed you both—no matter—
    nor your memory of your mother, 1915 tears in silent movies weeks and weeks—forgetting, aggrieve watching marie dressler address humanity, chaplin dance in youth,
    or boris godunov, chaliapin’s at the met, hailing his voice of a weeping czar—by standing room with elanor & max—watching also the capitalists take seats in orchestra, white furs, diamonds,
    with the ypsl’s hitch-hiking thru pennsylvania, in black baggy gym skirts pants, photograph of 4 girls holding each other round the waste, and laughing eye, too coy, virginal solitude of 1920
    all girls grown old, or dead, now, and that long hair in the grave—lucky to have husbands later—
    you made it—ı came too—eugene my brother before (still grieving now and will gream on to his last stiff hand, as he goes thru his cancer—or kill—later perhaps—soon he will think—)
    and it’s the last moment ı remember, which ı see them all, thru myself, now—tho not you
    ı didn’t foresee what you felt—what more hideous gape of bad mouth came first—to you—and were you prepared?
    to go where? ın that dark—that—in that god? a radiance? a lord in the void? like an eye in the black cloud in a dream? adonoi at last, with you?
    beyond my remembrance! ıncapable to guess! not merely the yellow skull in the grave, or a box of worm dust, and a stained ribbon—deathshead with halo? can you believe it?
    ıs it only the sun that shines once for the mind, only the flash of existence, than none ever was?
    nothing beyond what we have—what you had—that so pitiful—yet triumph,
    to have been here, and changed, like a tree, broken, or flower—fed to the ground—but mad, with its petals, colored, thinking great universe, shaken, cut in the head, leaf stript, hid in an egg crate hospital, cloth wrapped, sore—freaked in the moon brain, naughtless.
    no flower like that flower, which knew itself in the garden, and fought the knife—lost
    cut down by an idiot snowman’s icy—even in the spring—strange ghost thought—some death—sharp icicle in his hand—crowned with old roses—a dog for his eyes—cock of a sweatshop—heart of electric irons.
    all the accumulations of life, that wear us out—clocks, bodies, consciousness, shoes, breasts—begotten sons—your communism—‘paranoia’ into hospitals.
    you once kicked elanor in the leg, she died of heart failure later. you of stroke. asleep? within a year, the two of you, sisters in death. ıs elanor happy?
    max grieves alive in an office on lower broadway, lone large mustache over midnight accountings, not sure. l his life passes—as he sees—and what does he doubt now? still dream of making money, or that might have made money, hired nurse, had children, found even your ımmortality, naomi?
    ı’ll see him soon. now ı’ve got to cut through—to talk to you—as ı didn’t when you had a mouth.
    forever. and we’re bound for that, forever—like emily dickinson’s horses—headed to the end.
    they know the way—these steeds—run faster than we think—it’s our own life they cross—and take with them.

    magnificent, mourned no more, marred of heart, mind behind, married dreamed, mortal changed—ass and face done with murder.
    ın the world, given, flower maddened, made no utopia, shut under pine, almed in earth, balmed in lone, jehovah, accept.
    nameless, one faced, forever beyond me, beginningless, endless, father in death. tho ı am not there for this prophecy, ı am unmarried, ı’m hymnless, ı’m heavenless, headless in blisshood ı would still adore
    thee, heaven, after death, only one blessed in nothingness, not light or darkness, dayless eternity—
    take this, this psalm, from me, burst from my hand in a day, some of my time, now given to nothing—to praise thee—but death
    this is the end, the redemption from wilderness, way for the wonderer, house sought for all, black handkerchief washed clean by weeping—page beyond psalm—last change of mine and naomi—to god’s perfect darkness—death, stay thy phantoms!

    ...

    neşet ertaş'ın dertli ana'sının başka bir evrenden ağıdı gibi. ginsberg dalmış gitmiş içine doğru annesinin rahmine ve yaralarına bakarak ölüme yolculuğunu anlatıyor. neset ertas yarasının içine girmiş oradan okuyor. ikisi de tanrıyla hallesiyor, onun yakınlığını arıyorlar. birinin anası daha küçük yaşta vefat etmiş.

    ginsberg de dalmış kaptırmış kendini yolculuğa. ikisi de muzikten; sihirli ve gorulmez rakamlardan, ikisinin de hem anlatılanı hem anlatanı ote dunyadan. ikisinin de anası garip.

    ...

    blessed be you naomi in tears! blessed be you naomi in fears! blessed blessed be in sickness!

    blessed be you naomi in hospitals! blessed be you naomi in solitude! blessed be your triumph! blessed be your bars! blest be your last year's loneliness!

    blest be your failure! blest be youre stroke! blest be the close of your eye! blest be the gaunt of your cheek! blest be your withered tighs!

    blessed be thee naomi in death! blessed be death! blessed be death!

    blessed be he who leads all sorrow to heaven! blessed be he in the end!

    blessed be he who buıilds heaven in darkness! blessed blessed blessed be he! blessed be he! blessed be death on us all!

    youtube
  • leonard bernstein'ın senfonisinin adı.
  • yahudilerin, ölüleri için okuduğu duadır.yas töreninin parçasıdır.
    (bkz: kadiş)
  • allen ginsberg'un peter orlovski'yle asklari henuz baslamisken akli dengesi agir derece bozuk annesi vefat eder. kendisinin de kacirmis oldugu cenazede cok az kisi bulundugu icin kaddish duasi okunmamistir. cenazenin iki sene ardindan ginsberg'un icindeki ukte buyur ve kaddish'i bir arkadasiyla beraber bir apartman bahcesinde okuyuverirler. gecikmis bu cenaze torenin takiben ginsberg eve gider ve kaddish siirini yazar:

    strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while i walk on
    the sunny pavement of greenwich village.
    downtown manhattan, clear winter noon, and i've been up all night, talking,
    talking, reading the kaddish aloud, listening to ray charles blues
    shout blind on the phonograph
    the rhythm the rhythm--and your memory in my head three years after--
    and read adonais' last triumphant stanzas aloud--wept, realizing
    how we suffer--
    and how death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember,
    prophesy as in the hebrew anthem, or the buddhist book of an-
    swers--and my own imagination of a withered leaf--at dawn--
    dreaming back thru life, your time--and mine accelerating toward apoca-
    lypse,
    the final moment--the flower burning in the day--and what comes after,
    looking back on the mind itself that saw an american city
    a flash away, and the great dream of me or china, or you and a phantom
    russia, or a crumpled bed that never existed--
    like a poem in the dark--escaped back to oblivion--
    no more to say, and nothing to weep for but the beings in the dream,
    trapped in its disappearance,
    sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worship-
    ping each other,
    worshipping the god included in it all--longing or inevitability?--while it
    lasts, a vision--anything more?
    it leaps about me, as i go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder,
    seventh avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shoul-
    dering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant--and
    the sky above--an old blue place.
    or down the avenue to the south, to--as i walk toward the lower east side
    --where you walked 50 years ago, little girl--from russia, eating the
    first poisonous tomatoes of america frightened on the dock
    then struggling in the crowds of orchard street toward what?--toward
    newark--
    toward candy store, first home-made sodas of the century, hand-churned ice
    cream in backroom on musty brownfloor boards--
    toward education marriage nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school,
    and learning to be mad, in a dream--what is this life?
    toward the key in the window--and the great key lays its head of light
    on top of manhattan, and over the floor, and lays down on the
    sidewalk--in a single vast beam, moving, as i walk down first toward
    the yiddish theater--and the place of poverty
    you knew, and i know, but without caring now--strange to have moved
    thru paterson, and the west, and europe and here again,
    with the cries of spaniards now in the doorstops doors and dark boys on
    the street, firs escapes old as you
    --tho you're not old now, that's left here with me--
    myself, anyhow, maybe as old as the universe--and i guess that dies with
    us--enough to cancel all that comes--what came is gone forever
    every time--
    that's good!that leaves it open for no regret--no fear radiators, lacklove,
    torture even toothache in the end--
    though while it comes it is a lion that eats the soul--and the lamb, the soul,
    in us, alas, offering itself in sacrifice to change's fierce hunger--hair
    and teeth--and the roar of bonepain, skull bare, break rib, rot-skin,
    braintricked implacability.
    ai! ai!we do worse! we are in a fix!and you're out, death let you out,
    death had the mercy, you're done with your century, done with
    god, done with the path thru it--done with yourself at last--pure
    --back to the babe dark before your father, before us all--before the
    world--
    there, rest.no more suffering for you.i know where you've gone, it's good.
    no more flowers in the summer fields of new york, no joy now, no more
    fear of louis,
    and no more of his sweetness and glasses, his high school decades, debts,
    loves, frightened telephone calls, conception beds, relatives, hands--
    no more of sister elanor,--she gone before you--we kept it secret you
    killed her--or she killed herself to bear with you--an arthritic heart
    --but death's killed you both--no matter--
    nor your memory of your mother, 1915 tears in silent movies weeks and
    weeks--forgetting, agrieve watching marie dressler address human-
    ity, chaplin dance in youth,
    or boris godunov, chaliapin's at the met, halling his voice of a weeping czar
    --by standing room with elanor & max--watching also the capital
    ists take seats in orchestra, white furs, diamonds,
    with the ypsl's hitch-hiking thru pennsylvania, in black baggy gym skirts
    pants, photograph of 4 girls holding each other round the waste, and
    laughing eye, too coy, virginal solitude of 1920
    all girls grown old, or dead now, and that long hair in the grave--lucky to
    have husbands later--
    you made it--i came too--eugene my brother before (still grieving now and
    will gream on to his last stiff hand, as he goes thru his cancer--or kill
    --later perhaps--soon he will think--)
    and it's the last moment i remember, which i see them all, thru myself, now
    --tho not you
    i didn't foresee what you felt--what more hideous gape of bad mouth came
    first--to you--and were you prepared?
    to go where?in that dark--that--in that god? a radiance? a lord in the
    void?like an eye in the black cloud in a dream?adonoi at last, with
    you?
    beyond my remembrance! incapable to guess! not merely the yellow skull
    in the grave, or a box of worm dust, and a stained ribbon--deaths-
    head with halo?can you believe it?
    is it only the sun that shines once for the mind, only the flash of existence,
    than none ever was?
    nothing beyond what we have--what you had--that so pitiful--yet tri-
    umph,
    to have been here, and changed, like a tree, broken, or flower--fed to the
    ground--but made, with its petals, colored, thinking great universe,
    shaken, cut in the head, leaf stript, hid in an egg crate hospital, cloth
    wrapped, sore--freaked in the moon brain, naughtless.
    no flower like that flower, which knew itself in the garden, and fought the
    knife--lost
    cut down by an idiot snowman's icy--even in the spring--strange ghost
    thought some--death--sharp icicle in his hand--crowned with old
    roses--a dog for his eyes--cock of a sweatshop--heart of electric
    irons.
    all the accumulations of life, that wear us out--clocks, bodies, consciousness,
    shoes, breasts--begotten sons--your communism--'paranoia' into
    hospitals.
    you once kicked elanor in the leg, she died of heart failure later.you of
    stroke.asleep?within a year, the two of you, sisters in death.is
    elanor happy?
    max grieves alive in an office on lower broadway, lone large mustache over
    midnight accountings, not sure.his life passes--as he sees--and
    what does he doubt now?still dream of making money, or that might
    have made money, hired nurse, had children, found even your im-
    mortality, naomi?
    i'll see him soon.now i've got to cut through to talk to you as i didn't
    when you had a mouth.
    forever.and we're bound for that, forever like emily dickinson's horses
    --headed to the end.
    they know the way--these steeds--run faster than we think--it's our own
    life they cross--and take with them.

    magnificent, mourned no more, marred of heart, mind behind, mar-
    ried dreamed, mortal changed--ass and face done with murder.
    in the world, given, flower maddened, made no utopia, shut under
    pine, almed in earth, blamed in lone, jehovah, accept.
    nameless, one faced, forever beyond me, beginningless, endless,
    father in death.tho i am not there for this prophecy, i am unmarried, i'm
    hymnless, i'm heavenless, headless in blisshood i would still adore
    thee, heaven, after death, only one blessed in nothingness, not
    light or darkness, dayless eternity--
    take this, this psalm, from me, burst from my hand in a day, some
    of my time, now given to nothing--to praise thee--but death
    this is the end, the redemption from wilderness, way for the won-
    derer, house sought for all, black handkerchief washed clean by weeping
    --page beyond psalm--last change of mine and naomi--to god's perfect
    darkness--death, stay thy phantoms!

    ii
    over and over--refrain--of the hospitals--still haven't written your
    history--leave it abstract--a few images
    run thru the mind--like the saxophone chorus of houses and years--
    remembrance of electrical shocks.
    by long nites as a child in paterson apartment, watching over your
    nervousness--you were fat--your next move--
    by that afternoon i stayed home from school to take care of you--
    once and for all--when i vowed forever that once man disagreed with my
    opinion of the cosmos, i was lost--
    by my later burden--vow to illuminate mankind--this is release of
    particulars--(mad as you)--(sanity a trick of agreement)--
    but you stared out the window on the broadway church corner, and
    spied a mystical assassin from newark,
    so phoned the doctor--'ok go way for a rest'--so i put on my coat
    and walked you downstreet--on the way a grammarschool boy screamed,
    unaccountably--'where you goin lady to death'? i shuddered--
    and you covered your nose with motheaten fur collar, gas mask
    against poison sneaked into downtown atmosphere, sprayed by grandma--
    and was the driver of the cheesebox public service bus a member of
    the gang?you shuddered at his face, i could hardly get you on--to new
    york, very times square, to grab another greyhound--
  • the x files dizisinin 4. sezon bölümü. isminden de anlaşılacağı gibi, yahudilerle ilgilidir.yahudi sempatizanı olduğu bile söylenebilir. işin garibi bölümde dindar yahudi, yeni evlenecek zavallı garip adamı da öldüren neo- nazi genci bir türk* canlandırmaktadır.
  • allen ginsberg'ün 6:45 yayınları tarafından sonbahar mevsiminde kaddish ve öteki şiirler ismiyle yayınlacak olan şiir kitabı.
  • yahudi töresinde çok önemsenen, babanın mezarı başında dua etme ritüeli.
  • dinleyenlerinin yüreklerini dağlayan ağıt.

    anlamasınız da sözlerini, bilir ve anlarsanız, iyilik ve güzellik istediğini anlarsınız, tüm gitmişler ve gidecekler için.

    buyrun.

    ***
    yaşandı acılar
    acıları yaşayanlara - kaddish
    tükendi hayatlar
    hayatı tükenenlere - kaddish
    satıldı ruhlar
    ruhlarını satmayanlara - kaddish
    gittiler ve dönmediler
    gidip de dönemeyenlere - kaddish
    kaybetti pek çoğu
    kaybedenlere - kaddish
    tutmak istediler bir narin eli
    tutamayanlara - kaddish
    bir parça mutluluk istediler
    bulamayanlara - kaddish
    el açıp dua ettiler
    kabul edilmeyenlere - kaddish
    kırbaçladılar kendilerini
    acıları bitmeyenlere - kaddish
    mühürlediler kalplerini
    kararmış yüreklere - kaddish
    el çektiler garipten
    gariplerin ruhuna - kaddish
    yakıldı orman, kirlendi dünya
    kirletenlerin cümlesine - kaddish
    kırdılar yürekleri bir söz ile
    kalpleri kırılanlara - kaddish
    döndüler yollarından
    yolunda ölenlere - kaddish
    ellerindekini aldılar
    ellerinden alınanlara - kaddish
    haindiler sevgilere
    ihanet nedir bilmeyenlere - kaddish
    gülümseyip, öldürdüler
    ölürken, gülenlere - kaddish
    ve gök
    ve yer
    ve su
    ve deniz
    yok ettiler sessizce
    yok edene sessiz kalmayanlara - kaddish
    evlerinden uzaktılar
    gurbette yananlara - kaddish
    bir çift gözü kıskandılar
    gözünü kaçıranlara - kaddish
    yürekleri yaktılar sözlerle
    sözünü sakınanlara - kaddish
    alevlere saldılar
    alevlerde kalanlara - kaddish
    silmeye çalıştılar vefasızca
    unutmayanlara- kaddish
    geçmişte kalanlara
    ve
    gelecekte olacaklara
    bir çift gözyaşı ile
    ömrünü tamamlayacaklara
    düne, bugüne ve yarınlara
    iyi olan
    kötü olan
    ve
    hiç bir şey olamayanlara
    kaddish
    ***
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