The Mystic in A Wild State E-Book

(Garva) Amarsaikhan Nyamdorjgarav

• Herausgeber: Europa Edizioni
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

This book brings hope for the future. It is a work of literature that transcends time and religion. It is haunting and surreal. Truly, the mystic lives among us in a wild state in our modern age.
Writing here is like a vehicle that the Poet uses to ferry and jump inside this hoard of words treasure. You will hear wandering nomads, you will feel the presence of ancestors, you will touch memoir, you will listen so many profound thoughts in this voyage into the core of a strong Soul that embraces Nature, Time, Essence, Spirituality, Culture, Love, Life, Death, Infinite.
Sometimes the sacred mixes with the profane, but there is no time for metaphysical reflections: the words emerge bursting and the ink mixes thoughts and intersections.
Verses that will remain inside you.

Nyamdorjgarav (Garva) Amarsaikhan was born on November 1, 1998 in Arvaikheer, Uvurkhangai, Mongol. He would live with his mother in a tent until her death in 2015 due to a chronic disease. She influenced his poetry, tough never got to see his poetry collection. He has a mere older sister. He attended Merged high school in Arvaikheer, Uvurkhangai, Mongolia and graduated in 2016, then was accepted by The American University of Paris, however due to financial difficulties took a gap year. After a fall off a bunk bed, he had a stroke and had a brain surgery. For some time, he could not talk, nor move parts of his body. In 2017, he moved into Ulaanbaatar and lived in a church house for some time. Later in 2018, he was enrolled in Huree University Majoring Business administration and studied at Baylor University as an exchange student. From 2017 he got deep into poetry and commenced composing poems.

Leseprobe

Nyamdorjgarav (Garva)

Amarsaikhan

The Mystic in A Wild State

© 2022 Europe Books| London

www.europebooks.co.uk | [email protected]

ISBN 9791220131605

First edition: February 2023

The Mystic in A Wild State

Acknowledgements

To Steven Eisenbarth

for his encouragement and help

“I am my own betrayal.” -Garva Amarsaikhan

Preface

Reader, when you arrive at the end of these pages you will find out that this is not only a collection of poems. This is a tribute to Poetry.

Writing is like a vehicle that the Poet uses to ferry and jump inside this hoard of words treasure.

Even if the overture reads:

“I devour time.

I have blue eyes, a thin chin, and long hair.

I am the descendent of nomads.

I do not aspire to recall my ancestors.

I do not aspire to know everything.

I do not aspire to have any memoir.

Only I mischieved verses of morrow on my mind.”

You will hear wandering nomads, you will feel the presence of ancestors, you will touch memoir, you will listen so many profound thoughts in this voyage into the core of a strong Soul that embraces Nature, Time, Essence, Spirituality, Culture, Love, Life, Death, Infinite. His surrealism is a projection of his own feeling and emotions from deep within his spirit, a struggle to give voice to what is voiceless; to be simultaneously embraced but freed, “a lover but an outcast.” There is a sense that he has just begun the journey. His work is raw and rebellious at the edges. His work offers us a complex and perplexing use of metaphor.

Life. Life captivates.

The Poets reads: “I am a modern slave. But will I ever be forever? I will not be immortal. But do I care to know!

Living means to rebel, I suppose. Living means to fight for what one stands for!

This savage paradise! It continues to haunt the souls.”, this upsets mind.

It makes us thinking of a wonderful dialogue between the girl and the old woman from the Mongolian movie “The cave of the yellow dog”, 2005, when the little girl asks to the old woman

Girl: “Will I be reborn as a person in my next life?”

Woman: “Come here, I’ll show you something. Tell me when a grain of rice balances on the tops of the noodles”.

Girl: “That’s not possible!”

Woman: “See, my child, that’s how hard is to be born again as a person, that’s why a human life is so valuable”.

Roots are strong here; life is really valuable indeed the Poet reads:

The greatest pleasure of life is to live; Living excels everything.

O Loving life, O my beauty,

O Graceful one, O Pagan one, This life I feel more than all.

Sometimes the sacred mixes with the profane, but there is no time for metaphysical reflections: the words emerge bursting and the ink mixes thoughts and intersections, even Love mixes with poetics, to the point that the object is lost for how strong the vortex of poetics is.

A poetics that reveals clear roots: from Western classics like Shakespeare to Mongolian poets like Choinom. Some metaphors are inverted as in “I devour time” rather than “Time devours all.” Here he displays the hunger and

10

aspirations for new things, new relationships, new loves. In his own word: “He repeatedly overturns the metrical for the unmetrical, the musical for the unmusical” through inversion.

But this not only this origin, actually a poetry even before coming into the world, nurtured with words and not milk:

“And when the son was born, she would feed him with poems and songs that she composed each morning just to wake him from sleepless dreams.”

Again:

“At first, poetry made me.

Then, I made poetry.”

As simple as a flowering of night air-stream.

Do not make me wrong,

Poetry comes out of dirt and arrives in heaven. And I believe there is power in each verse, The power that changes language’s direction.

Maybe the nowadays world would need more poetry than images, maybe discover works like this hymn to Art, Sense, Nature, Passage of Time, Seasons that follow one after another.

Maybe it is true as he uttered in his verse, “He is a man embodied in everyone else’s.” Let me say this: We are him, and he is us.

Verses that will remain inside you.

Confession

I devour time.

I have blue eyes, a thin chin, and long hair.

I am the descendent of nomads.

I do not aspire to recall my ancestors.

I do not aspire to know everything.

I do not aspire to have any memoir.

Only I mischieved verses of morrow on my mind.

The autumn has arrived

With its rain and longings keeping the dead land

Alive with memories and beauty,

Bathing in the ballad of strange days and evenings.

I am sorry, I only exist in autumn.

I only exist in autumn.

O The season has draped my amorous soul For the greater good, for the greater end!

I shall describe this moment as a poem.

Ay, this moment is an invention. And I shall describe my life in beautiful, dark, gleamy seas Of lines bathing in the milky stars of memories and desires.

O Once, life was a survival, now it is a fiction.

I have seen Shakespeare plays.

I have perused Natsagdorj’s verses of any kind.

I have seen literature masterpieces

Performed by great actors and men of truth.

I emboldened myself to be like them.

Nonetheless I do not give a damn.

I am me and me is I.

It is not every day we see ourselves with open eyes.

The autumn has arrived.

I have arrived.

A bard rumbles on in the hovering blue air.

‘Autumn wind sways with me, Autumn verses sway with me.

I am a bard in the troubled heavens.

Why should not I stop here to greet beauty!’

I have arrived with a body as treasure to squander In the golden days in the floating time.

The season of the seasons!

She said she would arrive on time.

I have not heard from her.

Maybe she does not care. It has been long days and seasons Since I have not been home.

The autumn has arrived for her.

She said she would sing to the night.

But the night has not heard from her.

Maybe she does not care.

Therefore, I reinvented whole symphony of things.

‘In the streets, dreamers with blue jeans and linen suits

Listening to Choinom verses,

Their utterance commences the riot of a perfume

In a seemingly endless fashion,

O What these streets teach us about life!

What these stations and apartments teach us about life!

Cafes rumble with cold drinks

Youths resemble the voices of the last generation,

Night stars dance in space,