Ardakh Nurgaz. At the bottom of fruit tree (The essay about the poem “The Garden of Trees”)

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When I was reading a book in the bookstore in 1992, I read the words of a foreign critic, "O. Paz's poetry starts from the end of P. Neruda's poetry." At that time, the Mexican poet O.Paz had already become the winner of the Nobel Prize of Literature, and the research works and information about the poet were a lot. For the first time in the series of works of O.Paz of 350 pages, at first, I read the poet's poem "Sunstone ". You can not deny the feeling of the weight of the words mentioned above about the two great poets of Latin America. Let's say, poetry, started from the pick of the poem "Macchu Picchu" - what kind of poetry is it?

Then, the main thing, the concept of level began. No matter what you write, wherever you go, you should not be blinded, everything has its principle and existence.

According to H. Blum, there are two types of meaning in art. One preserves the tradition, writes the composition accordingly. The second ones prefer to modernize the tradition. H.Bloom considers these two trends are related to the spiritual skill of the art person. Traditionists often tend to live in the shade of the past art person, they consider themselves to be hereditary. The main thing is that they do not have talent that can improve the tradition. The surrounding adapts it. Another one feels the influence of the past art person so softly, usually, they come in contradiction with tradition, if they have the ability, they restore tradition. The most important thing is that there is an ability that will not remain in the shadows of previous talents. As we see two different positions in the literature seem to be contradictory, but you can not replace each other, they have a place for themselves. In literature maybe their relative priority changes, anyway the final development will stay. The society is going through different stages of development, like it, literature is also in the cycle of change and relative stability. When the literature moves relative stability, traditionists will take place in the literature. When the era of literature will diverse the developers will appear.

In 1991the Soviet Union crashed down/collapsed. The collapse of the Soviet Union is, at least, the greatest event of the last century in the history of humanity. Add to it the Independence of Kazakh. If you think deeply, the collapse/ crashing down of the Soviet Union can be seen as a tragedy of humanity. No matter how the idea of communism was criticized, it nevertheless reflected the human imagination. For the last four centuries, mankind had had a hope of this word and dreamed. It represents "equality, justice, brotherhood". So what happened? The national communists of the east and the west had made this sweet hope worse than cruel capitalism also had made it so awful and cruel. Do we have regret worse than it? When mankind came to the 90s of the twentieth century, they were happy to get out of communism. Instead of it, we should have been upset. Because hope had flooded, the future was dim, and what was going to happen was unknown.

When the Kazakh nation heard the news about independence, it was probable that all Kazakh nations were happy in this world. However, there was a feeling of anxiety with joy. Can Kazakhstan become a country? In this hard era, we faced a big challenge like independence, could we solve it? We were frightened about we would have civil war and conflict for decades, the inevitability of the ruling elites, such as Africa and Latin America, which took independence after the Second World War. There was a basis for fear. In spite of the fact that the human race defeated communism, it did not overcome the conflict and bloodshed. In 1991, in the Middle East, in 1998, on the Balkan Peninsula, after 2001 again in the Middle East, and our neighbor Afghanistan has already a big war. It means that the bloodshed tragedy is near us.

You know, I still have this anxiety. We were taught by Russian ideology that was cruel and did not even know how to behave, how to be sorry and we were like the detail in their machine system for some centuries. Then, we seemed to be a master, also a slave and became too cruel. We became so two-faced,(double-faced)even the hell in our head seemed like a paradise. Also, we were shamed by the whole world saying: ‘‘We do not collapse the Soviet Union!’’. Instead of feeling sorry about the innocent victims of hunger and the victims of nuclear weapons for 40 years, we turned it into a part of our political game. We could not even name the tragedy that we had faced. The sorrow of innocent people seemed nothing for us. This can be avoided by recognizing and judging wickedness and opening the door to new wickedness that may come the very next day. To recognize it as wickedness and evaluate correctly seem to open the door to new wickedness in the future. We do not follow the simplest form of equality and justice unless we say it as a state value.

We are willing to trade any goods for the sake of personal interests, power, and wealth. We even sold our descendants. In this case, it is shameful to speak about morals. It implies that we have reached the limit of the spiritual bottom. The main thing is that our national direction did not want to fight against immorality, vice versa it was associated with it. It is obvious that it did not associate the society, it destroyed. That's it. On December 16thon Independence day, in Zhanaozen, the officers who had weapons in their hands killed ordinary citizens. The number of deaths in the publicity was 16, but it was clear that the number was much higher. It is clear from the fact that where spiritual delusions have led us to feel inadequate and inaccurate.

(The independence is worthy of reverence. But, why did we lose it at first, how did we lose it, what was the main reason and what kind of mistakes did I make? What is the root of today's problems? We have not answered these questions yet. Instead of it, we are dividing property, we seem to be creating a company rather than a state. And I think, it is too early to speak about Independence.

Bloodshed, war is a real manifestation of evil that destroys culture and civilization. Sadly, as the human race moves forward, warfare is increasingly becoming worse and worse. In the spring of 2003, the US-burnt up in Iraq a catastrophic war that had never been seen before. It was a war of the postmodern era. Without killing your opponent, you can only fend off any valuables, kill yourself, and lose the meaning. And where is the guarantee that it is not a new era of humanity ?! While this what was going, I started writing the poem "Sayabakh".Even though I knew exactly what I was going to write for ten years, I could not find the path to my text. The sound of the first "War of the Axis" rocket drove off to the US in the Indian Ocean. The USA's in the Indian Ocean The first aircraft carrier's sound to wake up my mind.

The head of the man who was drowned in the pond was added to the square in our era. Where should we go now and what is ahead? Starting with the great revolution in France, the anxiety was described as a symbol of democracy. Together with independence, we, Kazakhs, have chosen the path of democracy. And in our minds, the garden and the anxiety are going together. As the communism-driven dream falls on, the human race has come to terms with the concept of democracy - the new and old hope of "trust, equity, brotherhood". However, this is not a straightforward path. It was proved by history. Democracy's greatest advocate, Socrates, was eventually sentenced to death by a 500-member panel formed by a democratic system. The great thinker was able to survive. But the old man refused to flee. He decided to die in the prison from the poison that was given. For the last two and half years, Socrates's last word of estimating the swan has been in humans' ears. We are faced with the same democracy that Socrates hoped. Can we succeed without being ashamed? I have suspicion rather than a hope. The poem contains the following lines:

Early morning

Time of the past and time of the present

Are rushing into the square

Don’t assume that the swansong*

Is helpless resistance

But it’s a warning

(I don’t cling to vain expectations)

In the mixture of shadows and sunshine

The face that is revealed

Is thinking in the face of the sea wind that comes into the window

Kids in play are

Playing by their own rules

A faint flute from afar

Keeps ringing in the ears

In the prison, an old man, facing the faint setting sun

Is meditating for the coming day

The wrinkles on his face deeper than normal

The horse-head stringed instrument, hanging from the wall, has turned into a swan

Fluttering its wings

Countless paths that rush into the grassland

Where on earth are they going?

Out of the night dragging its shadows

A pair of swallows and an owl have flown

One of the main peculiarities of the modernist works is a different view of the traditional concept of the time. This proves that the national consciousness was renewed by the time. The existence of modernity is also directly related to this node. The poem "The Desert" by the English poet T. Aliot, which has a distinctive sense of for the first time in modern-day poetry. In 1922, he composed this poem with the great poet and critic of the American poet E.Pound. Later, the first version of the Waste Land, which was about a thousand lines, was compacted to 435 points that we know now by E.Pound. After this compacting, the Waste Land acquired a knowledge of the distinctive features of the building and the time. After a great deal of modernist thinking started in the literature, T. Eliot continued. When the "Desert" was emitted by a tiger, T. Elliot understood the problem and then began to look at the way of providing a perfect, timely look. In 1944, in his FOUR QUARTETS poem, he fulfilled his mission, taking the Greek-Christian doctrine and myths of the Indian East Buddhist legends.

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.

wrote T.S.Eliot at the beginning of « Four Quartets ».

This turning point in English poetry also influenced the poetry of other nations. All the poetry in French, Greek, Italian, and Spanish were on the way to modernism. But most of them have put forward their national vision. This is why world poetry is filled with the best works. One of them is the poem "Kunsthaus" by V. Paz. In 1957, the 584-poem was published in 1790 by the poet, who was born in 1790 in the ancient Mexican city of Thessaloniki. The season differs by 584 days a year, based on the knowledge of the habitat, which is close to the vast equatorial zone. The gems have compiled their timetable in 584 days according to the frostbite of a spinning star.

Moderate poetry is a combination of conscious consciousness and unconscious consciousness. It's about turning round to the taste of the word. Civilizations and cultures are a vast space that does not go unnoticed by a stone that flows in the stream of time. He lives in an unconscious mind and sea of the deep sea. The essence of this key poetry is deep, full of sense. Heidegger's statement "Live in poetry" also relates to this knot. That is why many talented modernist poets have come to the forefront of the civilization and culture of their own when they are overwhelmed with the unconscious consciousness of the word through the watering of the mind.

The same is true of the true worldview, national identity, and the sense of time. The Kazakh language has its own outlook and time. The perception of Korkut and Asan's existence is in the form of an unimaginable individual. I wrote about this in the article "Zhumeken Nazhimidenov: The Lakes of the Darkness of Times" (The Kazakh Modernist Poetry, page 64, "Arna", 2010). In the poet "Park" this knowledge becomes dominant.

Cognition of a being that is opposed to the contrary, transformed into a new contradiction, and continuously moves, starting with the smallest part of the poem, keeps the public intact. Is there any connection between our two faces and our current twin world, right? We have to think. Read the poem.

Temporarily, I have lost my direction

When the sword of the sun cut everything into a world

Of black and white

The wilderness, overgrown with weeds, is a mixture of withered greenness

The worms, in the depths of the soil and to escape

From the ruthless poisoned arrows of the sun

Are waiting for the darkness, for the long nights

And for the rain and coldness

The arrogant squall is sweeping the streets, in an ancient historical play

The swans that are flying across the lake are like in a legend

Going through the tender copper-heart of the ancient coin

The sound of the walking-stick as the blind man uses it in search of a road

Stirs up a roaring sound, and in the slowly fragmenting fate

The valley of time, crowded with thousands of autumns, has dried up

Leaving traces of a few drops of blood

.   .   .   .   .

Түннің толқыныжартасты, құмдыжағаныұрып

Ақ көбікуақытшатынапсынған, шашырап.

Өткен мен бүгін - толқын, толқиды шайқалып

Жағада жатыр ұлудыңқабығыағарған.

Келешек уақыт - құмқайраңдажоғалған,

Ізді жұтқан,

Нар толқынтүнектен - түнеккешапшыған.

Өзін де жұтқанжағада -


Қараңғыда бірқолымбірқолымдыіздейді -

Аттанған алыс сапарға жолаушы,

Қобыздыңқылішегінентуғанжыр -

Көмусіз көр -

Бұйраланған судыңбетіндетолқын


Сырдың жағасынқұшыпөксіген,

Мен де толқын -

Емілдің жағасынқұшқан...

I wrote a poem in the amount of one and a half months. One letter remained unchanged, and the original was printed as it had been. (Newspaper Foreign Literature, 2007, No. 1). I have presented to the magazines "Zhuldyz", "Zhalyn", "Tan-Sholpan". During this time, the poem had been lying for more than three years. At first, it was thought to write three separate poems. The general theme is "Sleep-ups". I called the 11 pages “Garden-yard” poem which I completed writing in the book, and I just started the second part. However, I understood from time to time that the first part of the "Dala", which I wrote, was worthy of the introduction of my poem. The poem becomes even clearer.

Жым- жырт аспанда құскідірді.

Серпігенқанаты -

Тас жұмылғануақыттыңмәңгілікашылмасалақаны.

Терезеден төгілгенкүнніңсәулесін

Тықпалапқаратүнекке - көлеңкекемірген.

Ашылмайтын түңліктіңжібіүзілгенде

Даланы торлағантарау - тараужолдарқұлазып

Төбеден біржұлдызаққан.

Біреуді шығарыпсалып, біреудітосыптұр.

Алақандағы топырақ

Желде ұшқындайды

Ен даланыңсоқпақтарытірелгенмоллаларқұсап.

Күтіп тұрғанжанныңбейнесідебұлыңғыр -

Қасқайып тұрғантасобаларғаұқсайды.

Ол да үн-түнсіз.

Тас обаныңтүбінқазғанқолдардың

Көбесінде де қалған.....

Бір түйіртопырақ.

Тостағандағы жазудыңүзілгенұшығын

Иненің көзіненөткізгенде -

Бұлыңғыр далада қалғаніздер

Тас обаны сүйептұрғызғанқолдар.



Жылжыған уақыттың

Тозған кіреукесінендетозаңтөгілген.

Көш жүріпкеткенекіжұртгыңарасынна

Сақ, Ғұн, Түрік, ҚыпшақпенҚазақтың

Ізі шөккенбе?

Айға сілтенгенқылыштыңжарқеткенжүзінен

Қан тамғанда,


Қара түнтұнған.

Кім сонда


Құлағыңды түріптыңдасаңжерді, естисің

Ен даладан шауып келген

Ен далағашауыпкеткен ...... үнді.

Қазып жатыр жер -

Қазылып жатқанкөр.

Ол біздің

Жүрегімізде ағыпжатқанөзенгекөмілген.

Бақшаның далағаашылғанесігінде


Желмен жортқан аңыздақылішекөксіп,

Бір сапарда екібағытқакеткенкезбені

Кімдер арулап жерледі?

Көз алдымнан бірсәткетпейтінжарымның

Бетіндегі мендей,


Қорғанғақадалғанжебе -

Оны неге ешбіртатшалмайды?

Бақшаның тас қаланған жолында тұрғанжанды

Түсінен оятты -

Таяп келген,

Далада әлдеқашанөшіпкеткен ...... аяқтыңтықыры.


Қолдың табымен қайтатұрғызылғанмүсіннің

Тереңненүзіліпжеткенсаздамүлгуі .....

In the beginning, there was no idea that I would write such an essay about the "Parkbak" poem. But it is desirable to write. As a nation with well-educated literature, it would be an overwhelming world, and the literary environment would be able to absorb much. And we have a different situation. Nowadays, the Kazakh literature is still surrounded by academics and professors who are armed with the theory of Soviet literature and curiosity. If you adapt to them, you have to postpone the Kazakh literature for at least half a century.

The small space left above is in the hands of the Bolsheviks. "Bolsheviks" attack on any novelty, mix white and black, but somebody's cap on it and make a sense of conceit and burn it as soon as it comes to the new Kazakh literature. They may have thought that they would look beautiful if we were to blush on their face. These are those who have been fooled by ignorance and who do not understand the meaning of what we mean. But we can not go back.

I have just pushed for one or two poems about Parkbak. The main thing is to think about the reader when the dust is not healed. Poetry is a complex, aristocratic genre. Particularly, modernist poetry is unusual when it comes to the human dimension. Poetry is not only light but also warm. If you are a good reader, poetry does not illuminate your soul. Although less sophisticated readers are inclined to feel the field of modernist poetry than they are now thinking of, they still can not live without the poetry mood, without which life is humbled.

Only when he could find a way to meet modernist poetry, after a decade of decadent Soviet propaganda, the declining reception tactic, if presently fading in the present-day delusions, would eventually lead the society to abandon the literature itself. And I think it is much more useful to keep the reader alert, pushing them to the footsteps of critical critics, pushing the troupe into the crowd.

As for the gentlemen, who denied the new Kazakh literature, the word is still ahead. Discussion of Soviet literature has not started yet. We have not talked about how the Soviets worked to hide the face of the world from the evil of its return. We will definitely say about Soviet literature in order to explain the future generations of evil.

Literature is a great and different world that the human-created. Literature is spiritual freedom and the last place of freedom are incompatible with the creed of any ruling group that wants to hold human beings in slavery. This is the art that lets you know why "why?" Without human beings, human beings can not rise to the level of "full human."

In today's tragic events, it is crucial to keep the literature from the system and the poetry flag to one level above the social structure of capitalism, which is turning the political provocation and everything into money slavery. Poetry, then, will remain in its proper place in the horizons of humanity, preserving its ultimate meaning.

The world literature seems to me like a great fruit tree. From the bottom of it, you can eat as much as you wish, but you also should remember to clean the fruit tree from insects.

Original publication "Жалын" журналы, 2012ж. 3 сан. 

Ardakh Nurgaz. A poem about Y.Brodsky 

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