In search

Losing -- it's like winning, but with more experience… and swearing.

--

Too many people live their lives without intentionality or thought. They rarely find a quiet moment to sit in meditation or solitude and examine their life – who they are and who they are becoming.
-- Joshua Becker, Becoming Minimalist

To the simple man
(by Julian Tuwim, published in 1929)

When every wall is hid by many
new posters freshly pasted up,
when ‘to the people’, ‘to the Army’,
in black print stare appeals alarming,
and any dolt, and any pup
will take for gospel each old lie
that one should go and shoot off guns
and murder, poison, rob, at once;
start drumming into all our noggins
the ‘Fatherland’; the mob incite,
bamboozle with bright-coloured slogans,
egg on with ‘Our historic right’,
‘every inch’, ‘glory’, ‘sacred borders’,
with ‘our forebears’, ‘pay the price’,
with ‘heroes’, ‘flag’ and ‘sacrifice’;
when bishop, pastor, rabbi come
to say a blessing on each gun,
for God has told them, that His will
is that for Country – you should kill;
when gutter tabloid screams and rages
in letters huge on its front pages,
and herds of females lose their voice
throwing bouquets at ‘our brave boys’,
– O, my untutored simple friend,
mate from this land, or other land!
Know that the bells for these alarums
kings strike, with girls with ample charms,
Know it’s all hogwash, lies perverted,
And when these call out: ‘Shoulder arms!’
That somewhere from the ground oil spurted,
With dollars soiling the bright colours;
That in their banks there’s something rotten,
They smelled some moneybags, it looks,
Or cooked some scheme, the oily crooks,
For higher import tax for cotton.
Drum on the pavement with your gun!
Ours the blood, the oil is theirs!
And through each capital and town
Scream out, to guard your cash blood-won:
‘Tell us another, noble sirs!’.


Do prostego człowieka
(Julian Tuwim, 1929)
Gdy znów do murów klajstrem świeżym
Przylepiać zaczną obwieszczenia,
Gdy "do ludności", "do żołnierzy"
Na alarm czarny druk uderzy
I byle drab, i byle szczeniak
W odwieczne kłamstwo ich uwierzy,
Że trzeba iść i z armat walić,
Mordować, grabić, truć i palić;
Gdy zaczną na tysięczną modłę
Ojczyznę szarpać deklinacją
I łudzić kolorowym godłem,
I judzić "historyczną racją",
O piędzi, chwale i rubieży,
O ojcach, dziadach i sztandarach,
O bohaterach i ofiarach;
Gdy wyjdzie biskup, pastor, rabin
Pobłogosławić twój karabin,
Bo mu sam Pan Bóg szepnął z nieba,
Że za ojczyznę - bić się trzeba;
Kiedy rozścierwi się, rozchami
Wrzask liter pierwszych stron dzienników,
A stado dzikich bab - kwiatami
Obrzucać zacznie "żołnierzyków". -
- O, przyjacielu nieuczony,
Mój bliźni z tej czy innej ziemi!
Wiedz, że na trwogę biją w dzwony
Króle z pannami brzuchatemi;
Wiedz, że to bujda, granda zwykła,
Gdy ci wołają: "Broń na ramię!",
Że im gdzieś nafta z ziemi sikła
I obrodziła dolarami;
Że coś im w bankach nie sztymuje,
Że gdzieś zwęszyli kasy pełne
Lub upatrzyły tłuste szuje
Cło jakieś grubsze na bawełnę.
Rżnij karabinem w bruk ulicy!
Twoja jest krew, a ich jest nafta!
I od stolicy do stolicy
Zawołaj broniąc swej krwawicy:
"Bujać - to my, panowie szlachta!"

Instead of comment.

FETA 2007 has ended yesterday. It were 5 busy days with as little sleep as needed to keep on. And it was worth of it, especially for the company I spent those days with.


I have added some new photos from FETA 2005. This time Compagne Jo Bithume from France. They have been singing after each performance very nice, and very sad song. A pity I couldn't hear it once again.



I will break chronology with my processing of photos, and for sure will add some of recent FETA before adding ones from 2006.

"... mankind is a hunchback, who, for purpose of not knowing that it is possible to not be a hunchback, since thousands years is searching signs of inevitability of his hunch, because he is ready for any other explanation than the one telling that his disability is simply accidental, that no one lead by reason bestowed it upon him, that it has no purpose at all ..." His Master's Voice by Stanislaw Lem (translation - own)

Still in search.