Making Poems Out Of Prose


I was once advised to read Nietzsche’s famous prose, 'On Truth And Lies In A Non-moral Sense.' I had not read this essay though I had read much about him in my days of boyhood but none of his writings. I read it at once, was delighted at the richness of its content, became sad at how dreary it would look to most readers and decided to make a poet out of Nietzsche and make things simple. I was tempted to reply to my famous suggester in the most famous discussion platform that: "I do not read Nietzsche; I sing it. I sang 'On Truth And Lies In A Non-moral Sense' as Mr. .......... suggested, and here is the part I sang. I am sad to observe that Nietzsche did not write it this way but in his eloquent flowing prose. Unfortunately, when I look at such prose and skim content, lines appear this way to me."


The article we returned

Truth And Lies In A Non-moral Sense. One Paragraph.

Nietzsche

Ages there are in which the ration’l man
And th’intuitive stand side by side, the one

In fear of intuition, or scorn for abstraction;
Irrational one, the other inartistic.

They both desire to rule over their life,
Unreal or real, counting life to be.

Prudence, foresight and regularity,
The means with which one meets needs principal.

One o’erjoyed hero disregards these needs,
Counts life as beauty and an illusion.

As in the ′case in ancient Greece, th’intuitive,
Handles his weapons authoritatively,

Victoriously than his opponent, and
Establishes art’s mastery over life.

All utensils we use in daily life,
Were made from art, not from our pressing needs.

Houses, our clothes, our clay jugs, all them were 
Intended to express exalted joy.

Guided by abstractions and concepts, we
Succeeds in warding off our misfortunes,

Without ever gaining any happiness;
So that’s the case the ration’l man’s life is.

Th’intuitive man, aim freedom from his pain,
Standing a-firm amidst his culture’s frame,

Reaps cheer, illumination and redemption.
Defense against misfortunes, he obtains.


The article we received

There are ages in which the rational man and the intuitive man stand side by side, the one in fear of intuition, the other with scorn for abstraction. The latter is just as irrational as the former is inartistic. They both desire to rule over life: the former, by knowing how to meet his principle needs by means of foresight, prudence, and regularity; the latter, by disregarding these needs and, as an "overjoyed hero," counting as real only that life which has been disguised as illusion and beauty. Whenever, as was perhaps the case in ancient Greece, the intuitive man handles his weapons more authoritatively and victoriously than his opponent, then, under favorable circumstances, a culture can take shape and art's mastery over life can be established. All the manifestations of such a life will be accompanied by this dissimulation, this disavowal of indigence, this glitter of metaphorical intuitions, and, in general, this immediacy of deception: neither the house, nor the gait, nor the clothes, nor the clay jugs give evidence of having been invented because of a pressing need. It seems as if they were all intended to express an exalted happiness, an Olympian cloudlessness, and, as it were, a playing with seriousness. The man who is guided by concepts and abstractions only succeeds by such means in warding off misfortune, without ever gaining any happiness for himself from these abstractions. And while he aims for the greatest possible freedom from pain, the intuitive man, standing in the midst of a culture, already reaps from his intuition a harvest of continually in flowing illumination, cheer, and redemption-in addition to obtaining a defense against misfortune. To be sure, he suffers more intensely, when he suffers; he even suffers more frequently, since he does not understand how to learn from experience and keeps falling over and over again into the same ditch. He is then just as irrational in sorrow as he is in happiness: he cries aloud and will not be consoled. How differently the stoical man who learns from experience and governs himself by concepts is affected by the same misfortunes! This man, who at other times seeks nothing but sincerity, truth, freedom from deception, and protection against ensnaring surprise attacks, now executes a masterpiece of deception: he executes his masterpiece of deception in misfortune, as the other type of man executes his in times of happiness. He wears no quivering and changeable human face, but, as it were, a mask with dignified, symmetrical features. He does not cry; he does not even alter his voice. When a real storm cloud thunders above him, he wraps himself in his cloak, and with slow steps he walks from beneath it......





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