(no subject)

[leblon]

A weary man looks out of the window, sees the tops of trees, and silently recites their names: chestnut, poplar, maple. And those names are as beautiful as being itself. A poplar is tall and looks like an athlete raising his arm to the sky. Or it looks like a flame that has soared into the air and petrified. Poplar, oh poplar. Immortality is a ridiculous illusion, an empty word, a butterfly net chasing the wind, if we compare it to the beauty of the poplar that the weary man watches through the window. Immortality no longer interests the weary old man at all.

Milan Kundera, "Immortality".

Comments

[posic.livejournal.com]

Будьте здоровы! С Новым годом!

[mancunian.livejournal.com]

It's always ridiculous when a mortal talks about immortality. A bit like when someone who is deaf since birth talks about Beethoven's symphonies.

[leblon.livejournal.com]

I did not get your point. The book is about how people think about immortality. Not personal immortality but being remembered by future generations. And yes, the book is pretty funny at times. I thought this passage is beautiful and has a ring of truth to it.

Anyway, I recalled this passage after talking to an 86 year old man who was telling me that he has wasted his life.

[leblon.livejournal.com]

Тебя тоже с Новым Годом! Может, летом увидимся.