„Whoroscope“: Beketova prva objavljena pesma

“Whoroscope”, Samuel Beckett’s first published poem, 1930.

“Whoroscope”, Samuel Beckett’s first published poem, 1930.

Beketova poezija, naročito rana, zvuči podjednako zanimljivo kao i njegova druga dela po kojima je najviše poznat. U kontekstu piščevog celokupnog opusa ona može imati značajnu ulogu u dešifrovanju i sagledavanju  književnosti jednog od najvećih pisaca 20. veka. Naslov pesme Whoroscope intrigantan je i odaje postupak koji će Beket koristiti i tokom same pesme – duhovitost postignutu poigravanjem rečima. Takođe, za pesmu su značajne i same naznake koje je i autor dodao, smatrajući ih integralnim i neodvojivim delom teksta. U narednom odlomku pojam apsurda biva preispitan do najmanjeg detalja: Rene Dekart u nedoumici je oko nutricionističkih vrednosti jajeta koje mu je posluženo.

Pesma Whoroscope inspirisana je Dekartovom biografijom koju je u to vreme Beket čitao. Ona je njegova prva objavljena pesma, pisana oko 1930, verovatno tokom piščevog boravka u Parizu kada se intezivno družio sa drugim velikim irskim piscem – Džojsom. Književni kritičar Ted Burk povodom ove pesme je napisao:

„The rackety and repetitive anti-cadences of Samuel Beckett’s plays and novels suggest modernist poetry itself as the form moved away from universal declarations of world spirit and dwelled more on the interior life and the inability of the individual to convincingly make totalizing remarks about the make up and purpose of existence. One is always waiting for something to happen to make the body’s labors and the mind’s intellectual over achievements cohere with a serenity that comes only when imagination coincides with actual fact.

Beckett’s novels and plays are in various demonstrations an acute set of visions of when the machinery of habits break down and grind against one another. His poetry, those few stanzas he actually wrote, get to the despairing and darkly funny heart of his matter in an even colder, harder light. This is the case with Whoroscope, one hundred lines of click-track short circuiting referencing a gripe of Renee Descartes grousing over the nutritional value an egg which had been served him.“ *

By Samual Beckett


What’s that?
An egg?
By the brother Boot it stinks fresh.
Give it to Gillot

Galileo how are you
and his consecutive thirds!
The vile old Copernican lead-swinging son of a sutler!
We’re moving he said we’re off – Porca Madonna!
the way a boatswain would be, or a sack-of-potatoes charging Pretender
That’s not moving, that’s moving.

What’s that?
A little green fry or a mushroomy one?
Two lashed ovaries with prosciutto?
How long did she womb it, the feathery one?
Three days and four nights?
Give it to Gillot

Faulhaber, Beeckmann and Peter the Red,
come now in the cloudy avalanche or Gassendi’s sun-red crystally cloud
and I’ll pebble you all your hen-and-a-half ones
or I’ll pebble a lens under the quilt in the midst of day
To think he was my own brother, Peter the Bruiser,
and not a syllogism out of him
no more than if Pa were still in it.

Hey! Pass over those coppers
sweet milled sweat of my burning liver!
Them were the days I sat in the hot-cupboard throwing Jesus out of the skylight.

Who’s that? Hals?
Let him wait.

My squinty doaty!
I hid and you sook.
And Francine my precious fruit of a house-and-parlour foetus!
What an exfoliation!
Her little grey flayed epidermis and scarlet tonsils!
My one child
Scourged by a fever to stagnant murky blood-
Oh Harvey beloved
How shall the red and white, the many in the few,
(dear bloodswirling Harvey)
eddy through that cracked beater?
And the fourth Henry came to the crypt to the arrow.

What’s that?
How long?
Sit on it.

A wind of evil flung my despair of ease
against the sharp spires of the one
not once or twice but?
(Kip of Christ hatch it!)
in one sun’s drowing
(Jesuitasters please copy).
So on with the silk hose over the knitted, and the morbid leather-
What am I saying! the gentle canvas-
and away to Ancona on the bright Adriatic,
and farewell for a space to the yellow key of Rosicrucians.

They don’t know what the master of the that do did,
that the nose is touched by the kiss of all foul and sweet air,
and the drums, and the throne of the faecal inlet,
and the eyes by its zig-zags
So we drink Him and eat Him
and the watery Beaune and the stale cubes of Hovis
because He can jig
as near or as far from His Jigging Self
and a sad or lively as the chalice or the tray asks
How’s that, Antonio?

In the name of Bacon will you chicken me up that egg.
Shall I swallow cave-phantoms?
Anna Maria!
She reads Moses and says her love is crucified.
Leider! Leider! She blomed and withered,
a pale abusive parakeet in a maistreet window.
No I believe every word of it I assure you
Fallor, ergo sum!
The coy old frôleur!
He tolle’d and legge’d
and he buttoned on his redemptorist waistcoat.
No matter, let it pass.
I’m a bold boy I know
so I’m not my son
(ever if I were a concierge)nor Joachim my father’s
but the chip of a perfect block that’s neither old nor new,
the lonely petal of a great high bright rose.

Are you ripe at last,
my slim pale double-breasted turd?
How rich she smells,
this abortion of a fledgling!
I will eat it with a fish fork.
White and yolk and feathers.
Then I will rise and move moving
toward Rahab of the snows,
the murdering matinal pope-confessed amazon,
Christina the ripper.
Oh Weulles spare the blood of a Frank
Who has climbed the bitter steps,
(Rene du Perrron?!)
and grant me my second
starless inscrutable hour.

These notes were provided by the author.
1. Rene Descartes, Seigneur du Perron, liked his omelette made of eggs hatched from eight to ten days; shorter or longer under the hen and the result, he says, is disgusting. He kept his won birthday to himself so that no astrologer could cast his nativity. The Shuttle of a ripening egg combs the warp of his days.
2. In 1640 the brothers Boot refused Aristotle in Dublin.
3. Descartes passed on the easier problems in analytical geometry to his valet Gillot.
4. Refer to his contempt for Galileo Jr., (whom he confused with the more musical Galileo Sr.), and to his expedient sophistry concerning the movement of the earth.
5. He solved problems submitted by these mathematicians.
6. The attempt at swindling on the part of his elder brother Pierre de la Bretailli貥–The money he received as a soldier.
7. Franz Hals.
8. As a child he played with a little cross-eyed girl.
9. His daughter died of scarlet fever at the age of six.
10. Honoured Harvey for his discovery of the circulation of the blood, but would not admit that he had explained the motion of the heart.
11. The heart of Henri iv was received at the Jesuit college of La Fl裨e while Descartes was still a student there.
12. His visions and pilgrimage to Loretto.
13. His Eucharistic sophistry, in reply to the Jansenist Antoine Arnauld, who challenged him to reconcile his doctrine of matter with his doctrine of transubstantiation.
14. Schurmann, the Dutch blue stocking, a pious pupil of Vo봬 the adversary of Descartes.
15. Saint Augustine has a revelation in the shrubbery and reads Saint Paul.
16. He proves God by exhaustion.
17. Christina, queen of Sweden. At Stockholm, in November, she required Descartes, who had remained in bed till midday all his life, to be with her at five o’clock in the morning.
18. Weulles, a Peripatetic Dutch physician at the Swedish court, and an enemy of Descartes


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