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Ohlédnutí/Revisited Soundworm Gathering

By samotař, 9 October 2017

Kleté krajiny

By samotar, 7 October 2017

Kinterova Jednotka a postnatura

By samotař, 15 September 2017

Upsych316a Universal Psychiatric Church

By Samotar, 6 July 2017

Za teorií poznání (radostný nekrolog), Bohuslav Blažek

By miloš vojtěchovský, 9 April 2017

On the Transmutation of Species

By miloš vojtěchovský, 27 March 2017

CYBERPOSITIVE, Sadie Plant a Nick Land

By samotař, 2 March 2017

Ivan Illich: Ticho jako obecní statek

By samotař, 18 February 2017

Thomas Berry:Ekozoická éra

By samotař, 8 December 2016

Best a Basta době uhelné

By samotař, 31 October 2016

Hledání hlasu řeky Bíliny

By samotař, 23 September 2016

Bratrstvo

By samotař, 1 September 2016

Anima Mundi Revisited

By miloš vojtěchovský, 28 June 2016

Simon A. Levin: The Evolution of Ecology

By samotař, 21 June 2016

Jan Hloušek: Uranové město

By samotař, 31 May 2016

Manifest The Dark Mountain Project

By Samotar, 3 May 2016

Pokus o popis jednoho zápasu

By samotar, 29 April 2016

Nothing worse or better can happen

By Ewa Jacobsson, 5 April 2016

Jared Diamond - Easter's End

By , 21 February 2016

W. H. Auden: Journey to Iceland

By , 9 February 2016

Jussi Parikka: The Earth

By Slawomír Uher, 8 February 2016

Co číhá za humny? neboli revoluce přítomnosti

By Miloš Vojtěchovský, 31 January 2016

Red Sky: The Eschatology of Trans

By Miloš Vojtěchovský, 19 January 2016

Towards an Anti-atlas of Borders

By , 20 December 2015

Pavel Mrkus - KINESIS, instalace Nejsvětější Salvátor

By Miloš Vojtěchovský, 6 December 2015

Tváře/Faces bez hranic/Sans Frontiers

By Miloš Vojtěchovský, 29 November 2015

Na Zemi vzhůru nohama

By Alena Kotzmannová, 17 October 2015

Upside-down on Earth

By Alena Kotzmannová, 17 October 2015

Images from Finnmark (Living Through the Landscape)

By Nicholas Norton, 12 October 2015

Czech Radio on Frontiers of Solitude

By Samotar, 10 October 2015

Langewiese and Newt or walking to Dlouhá louka

By Michal Kindernay, 7 October 2015

Notice in the Norwegian newspaper „Altaposten“

By Nicholas Norton, 5 October 2015

Interview with Ivar Smedstad

By Nicholas Norton, 5 October 2015

Iceland Expedition, Part 2

By Julia Martin, 4 October 2015

Closing at the Osek Monastery

By Michal Kindernay, 3 October 2015

Iceland Expedition, Part 1

By Julia Martin, 3 October 2015

Finnmarka a kopce / The Hills of Finnmark

By Vladimír Merta, 2 October 2015

Workshop with Radek Mikuláš/Dílna s Radkem Mikulášem

By Samotářka Dagmar, 26 September 2015

Já, Doly, Dolly a zemský ráj

By Samotar, 23 September 2015

Up to the Ore Mountains

By Michal, Dagmar a Helena Samotáři , 22 September 2015

Václav Cílek and the Sacred Landscape

By Samotář Michal, 22 September 2015

Picnic at the Ledvice waste pond

By Samotar, 19 September 2015

Above Jezeří Castle

By Samotar, 19 September 2015

Cancerous Land, part 3

By Tamás Sajó, 18 September 2015

Ledvice coal preparation plant

By Dominik Žižka, 18 September 2015

pod hladinou

By Dominik Žižka, 18 September 2015

Cancerous Land, part 2

By Tamás Sajó, 17 September 2015

Cancerous Land, part 1

By Tamás Sajó, 16 September 2015

Offroad trip

By Dominik Žižka, 16 September 2015

Ekologické limity a nutnost jejich prolomení

By Miloš Vojtěchovský, 16 September 2015

Lignite Clouds Sound Workshop: Days I and II

By Samotar, 15 September 2015

Walk from Mariánské Radčice

By Michal Kindernay, 12 September 2015

Mariánské Radčice and Libkovice

By Samotar, 11 September 2015

Most - Lake, Fish, algae bloom

By Samotar, 8 September 2015

Monday: Bílina open pit excursion

By Samotar, 7 September 2015

Duchcov II. - past and tomorrow

By Samotar, 6 September 2015

Duchcov II.

By Samotar, 6 September 2015

Arrival at Duchcov I.

By Samotar, 6 September 2015

Iceland

W. H. Auden: Journey to Iceland

Gullfoss á fjórða áratugnum. Mynd: Willem van de Poll.

Árið 1936 ferðaðist Breti um þrítugt til Íslands. Hann hét Wystan Hugh Auden, alltaf kallaður W.H. Auden og var um þær mundir eitt nafntogaðasta skáld enskrar tungu af yngri kynslóð og varð síðar eitt allra áhrifamesta ljóðskáld tuttugustu aldar.

Hann eyddi þremur mánuðum hér á landi ásamt vini sínum, írska skáldinu Louis MacNiece. Þeir gáfu síðan saman út bókina Letters from Iceland sem er öðrum þræði ferðasaga og lýsing á Íslandi en í bókinni er líka mikið af skáldskap og hugleiðingum þeirra félaga sem koma Íslandi ekki við. Nöturleg lýsing Auden á Reykjavík féll ekki í frjóan jarðveg. Mörgum fannst hann vega að íbúum höfuðborgarinnar.

The book Letters from Iceland is made up of a series of letters and travel notes by poets W.H.Auden and Louis MacNeice written during their trip to Iceland in 1936. Auden's contributions include the poem "Journey to Iceland"; a prose section "For Tourists"; a five-part verse "Letter to Lord Byron"; a selection of writings on Iceland by other authors, "Sheaves from Sagaland"; a prose letter to "E. M. Auden" (E.M. was Erika Mann), which included his poems "Detective Story" and "O who can ever praise enough"; a prose letter to Kristian Andreirsson, Esq.; a free-verse letter to William Coldstream, and, in collaboration with MacNeice, "W. H. Auden and Louis MacNeice: Their Last Will and Testament".

And the traveller hopes: ‘Let me be far from any

Physician’; and the ports have names for the sea,

The citiless, the corroding, the sorrow,

and North means to all: Reject.

And the great plains are forever where the cold fish is hunted,

and everywhere; the light birds flicker and flaunt;

Under the scolding flag the lover

Of islands may see at last,

Faintly, his limited hope, as he nears the glitter

Of glaciers, the sterile immature mountains intense

In the abnormal day of this world, and a river’s

Fan-like polyp of sand.

Then let the good citizen here find natural marvels:

A horse-shoe ravine, an issue of steam from a cleft

In the rock, and rocks, and waterfalls brushing

Rocks, and among the rock birds.

And the student of prose and conduct places to visit:

The site of a church where a bishop was put in a bag,

The bath of a great historian, the fort where

An outlaw dreaded the dark,

Remember the doomed man thrown by his horse and crying,

‘Beautiful is the hillside. I will not go’,

The old woman confessing ‘He that I loved the

Best, to him I was worst’.

For Europe is absent: this is an island and therefore

A refuge, where the affections of its dead may be bought

By those whose dreams accuse them of being

Spitefully alive, and the pale

From too much passion of kissing feel pure in its deserts.

Can they? For the world is, and the present, and the lie.

The narrow bridge over a torrent,

And the small farm under a crag

Are the natural setting for the jealousies of a province;

And the weak vow of fidelity is formed by the cairn;

And within the indigenous figure on horseback

On the bridle-path down by the lake

The blood moves also by crooked and furtive inches,

Asks all our questions: ‘Where is the homage?
When shall justice be done? Who is against me?

Why am I always alone?’

No, our time has no favourite suburb; no local features

Are those of the young for whom all wish to care;

The promise is only a promise, the fabulous

Country impartially far.

Tears fall in all the rivers. Again the driver

Pulls on his gloves and in a blinding snowstorm starts

Upon his deadly journey, and again the writer

Runs howling to his art.

Hér er svo þýðing Magnúsar Ásgeirssonar á ljóðinu

Og sæfarinn óskar: Æ, sé nú hver læknir mér fjarri!
og sjávarnöfn skáldanna fylgjast með honum um borð:
Borgleysa, Ótryggur, Svörfuður, Sorgin.
Og Synjun er Norðursins orð.

Og ómælissléttur hins blóðkalda veiðifisks blika,
og brim er í lofti af vængjum svífandi flokks.
Og undir þeim þjótandi, iðandi fána
sér eyjavinurinn loks

hilla undir von sína: og fannblikið nær honum færist,
fjöllin, nakin og seiðsterk, um vornætur dag.
Og undir þeim sandflæmi í ósum fljóta,
sem árskrímsl með blævængslag.

Svo megi hinn ágæti borgari furður hér finna:
fjöll eins og hófspor, eimgos sem bergrifa spýr,
gljúfur og fossa og hornbjargsins háu
höll, þar sem sjófuglinn býr.

Og höfundur sá, er vill kynna sér kjör manna og háttu:
kirkjustað biskups, sem troðið var niður í sekk,
laug mikils sagnfræðings, klettaey kappans,
sem kvíða langnættið fékk.

Og munið hinn seka, er fákur hans féll og hann mælti:
„Fögur er hlíðin og aftur um kyrrt ég sezt,“
konuna gömlu, sem vitnaði: „Ég var þeim
verst, er ég unni mest.“

Því Evrópa er fjarri, og einnig þá raunveruleikinn.
Við öræfa- og söguhefð landsins þeir kaupa sér dvöl,
sem dreymir sitt líf vera í óþökk, til einskis,
og andlitin fölu sem böl

of heitra tálkossa tærði, á þess öræfum laugast.
En tekst það? Því Heimur, Nútími og Lygi eru sterk.
Og hin örmjóa brú yfir beljandi ána
og bærinn í fjallsins kverk

eru eðlileg virki og herstöðvar héraðarígsins,
sem hollustu þegnsins bindur við merkjastein.
Og í bóndanum þarna, sem berst á hesti
út bakkans vallgrónu hlein,

sig þumlungar líka blóðið á bugðóttum leiðum
og biður um svör, eins og þitt: Finnst ei trúnaður neinn?
Ó, hvað dvelur réttlætið? Hver er gegn mér?
Ó, hví er ég stöðugt einn?

Svo kynnum þá heiminum eyna, hans eltandi skugga,
með oflæti í búningi og versnandi fisksölukjör.
Í afdal hvín jazzinn, og æskunnar fegurð
fær alþjóðlegt filmbros á vör.

Því hvergi á vor samtími vé þau, er allir unna.
Vor æska ekki neina staðhelgi, verndaðan reit.
Og fyrirheitið um ævintýraeyna
er eingöngu fyrirheit.

Tár falla í allar elfur og ekillinn setur
aftur upp glófa og bíl sinn á vegleysur knýr
í æðandi blindhríð, og emjandi skáldið
aftur að list sinni flýr.

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