JANRI GOGESHVILI

From Dream into Reality

Poetry

The globe… the world visible and invisible… faith, homeland, Love, devotion, treachery and deceit, duty and obligation, love for the humankind… each writer has an opinion of his own about such and similar everlasting values…Expression, love intrigue, irony, satire and pathos developed as intuition, attract and delight a true reader… and the narrative rich in parables resembles peculiar treatment and interpretation…
Variation for Prologue
"Synopsis of Thesis"
The world, that seems closely studied, but still happens to be unknown... love, homeland, devotion and treachery... frankness, insincerity, a successful "master" of going back on his words... and a patriot punished for his devotion... "The world was alarmed, Despaired... Roar was heard..." I will not go on with it... each of us has immensely suffered recently... The disc of my computer keeps the stories of those robberies and of all that mischief described by children... The authors are mostly refugees or the children and relatives of such families. Some of them were just two or three years old, when many Georgians were driven out of their ancient lands - Abkhazia and Samachablo..., and some of them were born after those events... The kids mostly repeat the stories told by their parents and relatives, but their sharp pain is felt while weighing the facts. Pain and suffering of those days torture the memory, heart and soul of a recently "feathered" kid... (The present material was got by a certain NGO, and they asked me to do the editorial works). While reading the described events, I, unwittingly, was moved to tears. Compared to all the horrors depicted there, my uneasiness referring to the other fact may seem merely unimportant, but I must say, that a certain apparently ordinary and common fact peculiar to the present Georgia, annoyed me utterly. Some years ago, I visited my native village (my father's house is coming down there at the time being... though those places belong neither to Abkhazia nor to Samachablo). I was eager to have a look at the library situated on the ground floor of the village club. I went there... and was alarmed by what I saw: cattle had defiled all the place... pigs seemed to have succeeded in doing this more than any other domestic animals... I remember the books lined up on the shelves, - the books with their pages radiating mystery, romantic dreams, and hopes for the future... I witnessed just darkness there. We, of course, may mumble away to ourselves: "Well, what of it! What books, man?" and sigh ambiguously. In one of my essays, I have mentioned not without pride: "The book has ruled over me like a self-confident and thoughtful parent..." Sure, such an idea might have struck many distinguished readers, and each of them was certain to feel acutely the burning sweetness of the adventure novels safely kept in the mind; the romantic fascination of those novels closely pursues the spiritual life of the humankind as a beautiful dream... Thus, such pain is preceded by pouring out the evil hidden in one's subconscious world, that is to say, by the fatal change and violence of the degrading people... Men can create with amazing love and diligence... also destroy with horrible hatred and detestation. In the beginning, almost everyone cherishes his homeland, but then, many of those people, "the worthy ones" among them, too, are carried away by their own ambition to such an extent, that... "Who knows where they fight, Who knows where they stay... Somewhere else: To help others, to save them..." Yes, the Georgians have often suffered from their degraded gene... the men who served other countries, the men trained to be robbers and plunderers (no matter by the ill fate or their own ambition), have not just once destroyed Georgia. Time flew and their descendants would not remember their origin, but with their blood, with their subconscious or genetic memory they strived for the original source, they forced themselves to recollect it, but failed to do so, and, grown embittered, they tried to display and reveal their advantages. Here are some far more contemporary and common examples: very often, you'll find the surname of a certain man sound familiar, but the man himself, ruled by greediness and desire for wealth, deliberately starts to degenerate, is ready to rob off the native land and hearth his own countryman... According to the afore-mentioned, such a mood can steel into our hearts: "The one who tortured you, who broke you down, Got your land, your abode now..." That is why, together with the cultural and educational virtues, the child's mind and soul must be "saturated" with the mood of the national poetry and inspired by it... but such a zeal in the present "immensely pragmatic" being requires proper devotion and fidelity... at times, such a thing, too, takes place: "He left all he had, he got lost... He carried just his homeland in his bosom..." The last foot happens to be a leading idea of one of my novels - "The Herald of Dawn" - written thirty years ago and immediately "favored" with the assaults of the "black" reviewers of those days... and even today its leading idea remains as an essential note of the world... History, as ever, repeats itself, but we must mention that the reasons and motives of such actions are clear and far simpler nowadays... The sincere poetical standpoint helps us to check-up our feelings and experiences, to rise above the everyday earthly life... Otherwise, the world outlook of those with narrow views will make you think, that you are lost in the purposeful uproar made by them, and that your persistent devotion does not help you to do your duty to your homeland and nation... "Forgive me if my homesickness Has carried me away... too far..." "That serves you right!" rejoices your enemy, and the Present winks at you like a mischievous kid:" You just depart, die, pass away, Then it'll be all right, it'll be OK." Let us not insist that just matrimonial conditionality is meant here... By the way, the days of allegory are gone... but all this resembles a reticent paradox... The thing is, that this very author does not die to his family, homeland and mental space, and cries out with joy: "They have left us out, because We come from the bosom of the skies..." The author does not intend to stir up anyone's sympathy, but it is the exact thing, that very often, a certain creator happens to live and work in the rather unsuitable time and space... the one we are speaking about, never reconciled to this very "being left out", though he did not imitate the God's fool... but, against his will, at times, he had to heal himself, and resist severe attacks with "insane" feats and tricks..." To say "no" to the reason can just the reasonable, The sacred image is the shelter of the soul. All hail to the prophet concealing his zeal, All hail to the Christ's fool!" At present, he, somehow, is adapted to such tricks... because those who managed to attain success by not noticing and leaving out the fruits of others' work, according to the newly-born circumstances (the show business is a risk, you know), started to leave out each other as well... and most of them, just to fill their stomachs and save their lives, are ready to betray not only their yesterday's friends but the whole world to boot... "The ripe melon melts away as slobber In the pregnant woman's dream; why! The true knight's efforts end in failure, The kite competes against the eagle in the sky. The crown of feathers sparkles In the brains of a political harlot. A fox giggles at me at the abandoned village: You cannot help it, man... you cannot..." Here the author asks the Maker to show mercy to him... he, also, does not betray his own ideas and dreams... "Dream rejoices and blooms And flowers in the verse..." No matter, if he, sometimes, with the zeal peculiar to a man, complains about the life... but he, also, does not conceal his services: "He, unnoticeably distinguished, Has built a cosmic house..." Besides, he knows, that "A muscle is a muscle and noting else... The muscular world storms and rages..." Then, he calls to others and to himself: "Hold in high respect the virtue bestowed on you, Respect the inner order and customs..." Because love may be turned into relief as well as into a trap... Besides the yearning called "passion," there exists a blind love for the worshipped image, which, at times, unites many thousands for good deeds, and sometimes, throws them into an abyss... In these collected poems, as well as in the prologue of the magazine titled "Image-Bearing Motivations", is often expressed the process of investigation and research: "correlation" between action and reasons; metamorphosis of images and exposure of psychological outlines; merging of thematic motives into digression; forming and opposing ideas; image-bearing patterns of motivation; satirical statements and forcible arguments; prophesy arisen from fancy... and maxims including valor and space of reason... Let us confess: the author has often hoped that his works - novels, stories, plays and tales would be properly reflected in the cinematography. In his youth, he longed for mastering the producer's profession and intended to take examinations at the faculty newly opened in Georgia. After a kind of interview, a strictly determined contingent was allowed to take exams. The interview ended by arguing with the professor, and he thought they'd get rid of him... strange to say, his name was entered in the list of those who were to pass their exams, but he learned about it too late... Despite this, his imagination refused to yield to reality, and he fancied the best poems of his collection as film-novels with striking effects. Who knows... in spite of the temporal factor, he may succeed in his "debut"... In short, what seemed a rather usual and boring "making" (and not creating) for others, happened to be inaccessible to him... under the circumstances, of course... "When in my dream I came across a beautiful town, I heard a whisper: "You just stay here And again, you'll fly from now on... Sing here, this will be your home, Glory and boundless joy await you here". But I couldn't do so, because a word Of devotion was left in this world..." Just so! Some people regard such devotion as a symbol of failure... but "Devotion scares even the traitor, And all the knowledge of the obstinate Must be shaken out..." If someone thinks, the above-said has not much to do with poetry, then... "Take away your claws From that man", a voice sounds. "Let his fatherland flourish in his verse!" The brave thought will open its eyes In the sunshine and rays... Humankind will apprehend The world in that rhythm..." This is said just to cheer you up... now, we had rather look through the world patterns of the rhythmical structure once again. As I have mentioned before, the mysteries that help us to apprehend the esoteric wisdom, deserve some warmth and love, as well as the views remained as inactive dogmas, need perfection in the intellectual space and careful arrangement in the active maxims. All of us know the creator manages to reveal his thoughts to "the image-bearing whiteness" with the help of heavenly forces... such an intellectual mystery is a promising guide to perceive the future... "All hail to the purple race Fluttering from beyond the skies..." God is always with us, he listens to us all the time... Besides, there always existed the invisible unity of "the wise and faithful", and as the sky and the earth - the whole world, in short, is the abode to each of us, we are to refine and improve the skill for co-existence... "Each man builds his Temple where he can: Some - on the summit, some - in the vale. Some flourish the desert in their bodies, And some knit their dream at the dome..." The reader may deepen this thought and decide where and how to build his Temple, - to build it with his own hands or just symbolically... it is up to him... Let us do our best to turn our wishes into a part of the kindred souls' intellectual space... You know, the rational kernel arisen from poetical mysteries is an essential symbol of the very space... "And if you go on livingIn this world as a grain Looking forward to the spring Among the yellow leaves... You'll grow, but won't be Completely right and veracious, Because the homeland again Bitterly moans in your verses..." 12-14. 03.2006

 Translated from Georgian