Un saggio è qualcuno che ha
raggiunto una remota possibilità umana. Impossibile dire quale sia questa
possibilità. Credo abbia a che fare con l’energia dell’amore. Il contatto con questa energia si traduce nell'esercizio
di una sorta di equilibrio nel
caos dell'esistenza.
Un saggio non dissolve il caos;
se lo facesse, il mondo sarebbe cambiato molto tempo fa. Non credo un saggio
dissolva il caos nemmeno per se stesso, poichè vi è qualcosa di arrogante e
bellicoso nella nozione di un uomo che mette in ordine l’Universo. Si tratta di una sorta di equilibrio che è la sua gloria. Cavalca le
derive come uno sci sfuggito. Il suo percorso è una carezza alla
collina. La sua traccia è un
disegno della neve nel momento della
sua particolare configurazione col vento e la roccia. Qualcosa
in lui ama tanto il
mondo da donarsi alla legge di gravità e al caso. Lungi dal volare con
gli angeli, traccia con la
fedeltà dell’ago di un sismografo
lo stato del paesaggio insanguinato. La sua casa è pericolosa e limitata, ma
lui è a casa nel mondo. Può amare le forme degli
esseri umani, le forme sottili e
contorte del cuore. E' bene
avere in mezzo a noi uomini del genere,
questi equilibranti mostri d'amore.
Leonard Cohen, “Beautiful Losers” (traduzione Diletta A. Mistretta)
What
Is A Sage?
A sage is someone who has achieved a remote human possibility. It is impossible to say what that possibility is. I think it has something to do with the energy of love. Contact with this energy results in the exercise of a kind of balance in the chaos of existence.
A sage does not dissolve the chaos; if he did, the world would have changed long ago. I do not think that a sage dissolves the chaos even for himself, for there is something arrogant and warlike in the notion of a man setting the Universe in order. It is a kind of a balance that is his glory. He rides the drifts like an escaped ski. His course is a caress of the hill. His track is a drawing of the snow in a moment of its particular arrangement with wind and rock. Something in him so loves the world that he gives himself to the laws of gravity and chance. Far from flying with the angels, he traces with the fidelity of a seismograph needle the state of the solid bloody landscape. His house is dangerous and finite, but he is at home in the world. He can love the shapes of human beings, the fine and twisted shapes of the heart. It is good to have among us such men, such balancing monsters of love.
A sage is someone who has achieved a remote human possibility. It is impossible to say what that possibility is. I think it has something to do with the energy of love. Contact with this energy results in the exercise of a kind of balance in the chaos of existence.
A sage does not dissolve the chaos; if he did, the world would have changed long ago. I do not think that a sage dissolves the chaos even for himself, for there is something arrogant and warlike in the notion of a man setting the Universe in order. It is a kind of a balance that is his glory. He rides the drifts like an escaped ski. His course is a caress of the hill. His track is a drawing of the snow in a moment of its particular arrangement with wind and rock. Something in him so loves the world that he gives himself to the laws of gravity and chance. Far from flying with the angels, he traces with the fidelity of a seismograph needle the state of the solid bloody landscape. His house is dangerous and finite, but he is at home in the world. He can love the shapes of human beings, the fine and twisted shapes of the heart. It is good to have among us such men, such balancing monsters of love.
Leonard Cohen, “Beautiful Losers”
