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Subject Kazantzakis

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Publication 485 By chanterie on Friday, June 20, 2003 at 14:55   
Location: Zimbabwe   Registered: Friday, June 20, 2003  Posts: 4    Search for other posts by chanterie Search   Quote
I do not know to whom I address the message.
But perhaps you can help me.
I am looking for an English translation of a Kazantzakis' text, with the title "The Cry"
I remember the content. A cry, a voice, calls step by step creature to stand up until Man appears.
Thanks

Publication 487 By absent-minded on Friday, June 20, 2003 at 20:46   
Location: Greece   Registered: Friday, June 29, 2001  Posts: -166    Search for other posts by absent-minded Search   Quote
Maybe it is this you have in mind (from the Report on Greco):

Blowing through heaven and earth, and in our hearts and the heart of every living thing, is a gigantic breath-a great Cry-which we call God. Plant life wished to contin- ue its motionless sleep next to stagnant waters, but the Cry leaped up within it and violently shook its roots: "Away, let go of the earth, walk!" Had the tree been able to think and judge, it would have cried, "I don't want to. What are you urglng me to aoi -YOU are demanding the impossible. But the Cry, without pity, kept shaking its roots and shout- ing, "Away, let go of the earth, walk!"

It shouted in this way for thousands of eons; and lo! as a result of desire and struggle, life escaped the motionless tree and was liberated.

Animals appeared-worms-making themselves at home in water and mud. "We're just fine here," they said. "We have peace and security; we're not budging!"

But the terrible Cry hammered itself pitilessly into their loins. "Leave the mud, stand up, give birth to your betters ! "

"We don't want to! We can't!"

"You can't, but I can. Stand up!"

And lo! after thousands of eons, man emerged, trem- bling on his still unsolid legs.

The human being is a centaur; his equine hoofs are planted in the ground, but his body from breast to head is worked on and tormented by the merciless Cry. He has been fighting, again for thousands of eons, to draw himself, like a sword, out of his animalistic scabbard. He is also fighting-this is his new struggle-to draw himself out of his human scabbard. Man calls in despair, "Where can I go? I have reached the pinnacle, beyond is the abyss." And the Cry answers, "I am beyond. Stand up!" All things are centaurs. If this were not the case, the world would rot into inert.ness and sterility.

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