Warum auch Hans Küng die Kirche nicht retten kann: Eine Analyse seiner Irrtümer (German Edition)
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Trod with a lighter tread. The impermanence of arising-and-extinction, continually arising and continually passing away, is time in its naked form. Time is originally purposeless, discontinuous, instantaneous arising-and-extinction…. Impermanence is clearly shown to be such nothingness and meaninglessness. Does Yeats unblinkingly face this meaninglessness of time, which is an obligatory gate for the Zen meditator? Many ingenious lovely things are gone. That seemed sheer miracle to the multitude,. Protected from the circle of the moon.
That pitches common things about. But it is not only time or mortality that Yeats mourns for. Impermanence takes a far more upsetting form: the recurrance of irrational violence that shakes the very foundations of civilization and shows it to be a radically fragile construct:.
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Now days are dragon-ridden, the nightmare. Can leave the mother, murdered at her door,. To crawl in her own blood, and go scot-free.
(German) Hermann,H.- Sex & Folter in Der Kirche
He who can read the signs nor sink unmanned. Into the half-deceit of some intoxicant. From shallow wits; who knows no work can stand,. Whether health, wealth or peace of mind were spent. On master-work of intellect or hand,.
No honour leave its mighty monument,. But break upon his ghostly solitude. And this too is a kind of half-deceit, from which the poet turns into his most grief-laden elegiac lines:. But is there any comfort to be found? Man is in love and loves what vanishes,. What more is there to say? These lines too are a kind of half-deceit, for they shift from the stern recognition of impermanence in all its traumatic cruelty to a softer semi-consolatory crooning over transience.
For the sterner side of impermanence Yeats draws on ancient thought, especially on Platonism and, increasingly in later years, on Indian ideas of karma and rebirth. When Loie Fuller's Chinese dancers enwound. A shining web, a floating ribbon of cloth,. It seemed that a dragon of air.
Had fallen among dancers, had whirled them round. Or hurried them off on its own furious path;.
So the platonic Year. Whirls out new right and wrong,. Whirls in the old instead;. All men are dancers and their tread. Goes to the barbarous clangour of a gong. Some moralist or mythological poet. Compares the solitary soul to a swan;. I am satisfied with that,. Satisfied if a troubled mirror show it,. Before that brief gleam of its life be gone,. An image of its state;.
The wings half spread for flight,. The breast thrust out in pride. Whether to play, or to ride. Those winds that clamour of approaching night. And Yeats can embrace apocalypse, make his own the destructive dynamic of the Platonic Year. The swan has leaped into the desolate heaven:. That image can bring wildness, bring a rage.
To end all things. Never to have lived is best, ancient writers say;. Never to have drawn the breath of life, never to have looked into the eye of day. Come let us mock at the great.
That had such burdens on the mind. And toiled so hard and late. To leave some monument behind,. Nor thought of the levelling wind. The final poem in the sequence make apocalptic destruction eerily seductive:. Some few have handsome riders, are garlanded. On delicate sensitive ear or tossing mane,. But wearied running round and round in their courses. All break and vanish, and evil gathers head:. Herodias' daughters have returned again.
(German) Hermann,H.- Sex & Folter in Der Kirche - Free Download PDF
The wind is the dominant image of change and destruction in this poem, whereas it is the moon that dominates elsewhere both images shared with Shelley. The Winding Stair can be seen as a positive reply to The Tower on many points, notably in its more positive embrace of the world of becoming.
Unterecker sees The Tower as masculine, The Wnding Stair as feminine and the very titles suggest that opposition. The feminine kind of transience outweighs stern masculine impermanence in the latter collection:. But a raving autumn shears. The innocent and the beautiful. Have no enemy but time.
In this poem there is a moment of apocalpytic destruction but its somewhat playful atmosphere differs from the rage of The Tower :. Arise and bid me strike a match. And strike another till time catch…;. Bid me strike a match and blow. That flowering, silken, old embroidery, torn. The wooden scabbard bound and wound,.
Can, tattered, still protect, faded adorn. I am content to live it all again. And yet again…. Can come upon the visage of the moon. When it has looked in glory from a cloud. They came like swallows and like swallows went,. Could keep a swallow to its first intent;. And half a dozen in formation there,. That seemed to whirl upon a compass-point,.
Found certainty upon the dreaming air,. The intellectual sweetness of those lines.