Word: sorrowed
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...over the air. It was a memorandum from Turkey's military chiefs: "The Parliament and the government, with their continuing attitude, policies and actions, have pushed our country into anarchy, fratricide and social and economic unrest. Parliament should remain above party politics and consider measures to dispel the sorrow and hopelessness felt by the nation and the armed forces, to put an end to the anarchy and bring about reforms called for by the constitution. If this cannot be accomplished promptly, the Turkish armed forces, fulfilling their legal duty to protect the republic, will take power...
...attendants, is always waiting on the side-lines, should anyone get hurt. There are bandages for sprains, and oxygen for the man whose wind has been knocked out of him. All this goes to bring about an age-old masculine dream; a tremendous war with only incidental suffering and sorrow. We can delight in the beauty of naked aggression without worrying about the consequences...
...Seeker" ("Die Suchende") is a poem of die Leidbseessene, the "woman possessed by sorrow," who serves as a metaphor for the nation of Israel. On first reading, it seems just too simple to be really good, but the subtlety of the poem only emerges after several exposures. The translation is almost totally literal, and thus loses some of the devices which make the original succeed. An effective alliteration ("die Wande der Wiiste wissen von Liebe") is lost in translation as "the walls of the desert know of love." The strict rendering into unwieldy English detracts immeasurably from the starkness...
...longer poems are better, however. "Die Stunde zu Endor," "The Hour at Endor," is a long, rambling plaintive piece, filled with biblical allusions and curiously moving. Her series of "Choruses" sums up the spirit of longing and sorrow which is the backbone of her whole poetic work, and most of the poems display the marvelous strength of her use of the language...
...entire work-plays, novels, poems -is a lamentation for the living. It is astonishing, at times, that Beckett can bring himself to write at all. Silence, like the peace of death that he constantly invokes, might seem like surcease from such unremitting sorrow. Perhaps not writing was the circle of earthly hell that he could not bear to enter...