20.yuzyilin onemli Cekoslovak roman yazari Karel Čapek’in dogum yildonumu (9 Ocak 1890)
“Gelecek onumuzde degildir, o burada bir tohum seklindedir; o zaten bizimle birliktedir ve su anda bizimle olmayan sey gelecekte de olmayacaktir. Bizler tohumu gormeyiz cunku onlar topragin altindadir; gelecegi bilemeyiz cunku icimizdedir. Bazen curumenin kokusunu alir gibi oluruz, gecmisin solgun renkli kalintılari ile dolariz; oysa keske yasli, tortulasmis topragi delmeye calisan kac tane tombul ve beyaz filiz oldugunu gorebilseydik, ‘simdi’ denilen su zamanda, kac tane tohumun gizlice filizlendigini; yasli bitkilerin bir araya gelip, bir gun cicek veren bir hayata donusecek olan tohumu nasil besledigini, gelecegin gizli bir telasla icimizde nasil bekledigini; iste o zaman melankolimizin ve guvensizligimizin aptalca ve absurt oldugunu soylerdik, ve her seyin en guzelinin aslinda yasayan bir insan olabilmek oldugunu ve bunun aslinda buyumek oldugunu.” Bahcivanin Bir Yili
“The future is not in front of us, for it is here already in the shape of a germ; already it is with us; and what is not with us will not be even in the future. We don’t see germs because they are underneath the earth; we don’t know the future because it is within us. Sometimes we seem to smell of decay, encumbered by the faded remains of the past; but if only we could see how many fat and white shoots are pushing forward in the old tilled soil, which is called the present day; how many seeds germinate in secret; how many old plants draw themselves together and concentrate into a living bud, which one day will burst into flowering life – if we could only see that secret swarming of the future within us, we should say that our melancholy and distrust is silly and absurd, and that the best thing of all is to be a living man – that is a man who grows.”
“Bay Rybka, o gece eve yururken her zamankinden daha neseliydi; cunku birincisi, satranc macindan galip ayrilmisti (rakibini atla ne de guzel mat etmisti, yol boyunca kendini tebrige devam etti); ikincisi, yerdeki taze ve yumusak karin o muhtesem, saf sessizlikte ayaklarinin altinda ezildigini duyabiliyordu. ‘Bu ne guzellik Tanrim’ diye dusundu Bay Rybka; karla kaplanmis bir sehir birdenbire kucucuk bir kente, metruk bir kasabaya donusur. Insan neredeyse birdenbire gece bekcilerinin ve at arabalarinin belirecegine inanir. Karin her seye kirsal bir goruntu vermesi, her seyi zaman kavramindan uzaklastirmasine ilginctir.”
“That night Mr. Rybka was walking home in a particularly good mood, first because he’d won his game of chess (that was a nice checkmate with the knight, he congratulated himself as he walked along), and second because fresh snow had fallen and it crunched softly beneath his feet in the fine, pure silence. Good heavens it’s beautiful, thought Mr. Rybka; a city covered with snow is all of a sudden such a small town, such an old-fashioned little place — it almost makes you believe in night watchmen and horse-drawn carriages; it’s funny how snow makes everything seem timeless and rustic.”



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