Rene Daumal

Rene Daumal Poems

I am dead because I lack desire,
I lack desire because I think I possess.
I think I possess because I do not try to give.
In trying to give, you see that you have nothing;
...

The skin of light enveloping this world lacks depth and I can actually see the black night of all these
similar bodies beneath the trembling veil and light of myself it is this night that even the mask of the
sun cannot hide from me I am the seer of night the auditor of silence for silence too is dressed in
sonorous skin and each sense has its own night even as I do I am my own night I am the conceiver
...

3.

One cannot stay on the summit forever -
One has to come down again.
So why bother in the first place? Just this.
What is above knows what is below -
...

Rene Daumal Biography

Born March 16, 1908, in Boulzicourt, Ardennes, France; died of tuberculosis, May 21, 1944, in Paris, France. French novelist, essayist, poet, short story writer, translator, and playwright. Daumal is known for his writings on spirituality and perception. He spent his youth in the company of several artists called simplists, who delved into psychological exploration and used drugs. Daumal's own use of carbon tetrachloride, though nearly fatal, later inspired him to write "Une Experience fondamentale" (title means "A Fundamental Experience"), an essay in which he traces the expansion of his consciousness from simple awareness to drug-induced intuition to a renewed consciousness in which his perceptions were rationalized. Daumal continued to concern himself with spiritual matters and altered states of consciousness in Le Contre-Ciel (1936), a collection of poems which earned him the Prix Jacques Doucet. By this time Daumal, under the tutelage of Gurdjieff disciple Alexandre de Salzmann, had already established himself as a Hindu scholar with translations of several sacred texts. But his greatest achievement from the 1930's is probably La Grande Beuverie (1938; translation published as A Night of Serious Drinking, 1979), a satire on French society in which the author poses the ascendance of a higher spiritual plane as an alternative to superficial life. At his death Daumal left unfinished Le Mont Analogue (1952; translation published as Mount Analogue, 1959), a novel in which he contends that transcendental knowledge is attained through an understanding of reality and communion with others.)

The Best Poem Of Rene Daumal

Last Letter To His Wife

I am dead because I lack desire,
I lack desire because I think I possess.
I think I possess because I do not try to give.
In trying to give, you see that you have nothing;
Seeing that you have nothing, you try to give of yourself;
Trying to give of yourself, you see that you are nothing:
Seeing that you are nothing, you desire to become;
In desiring to become, you begin to live.

Rene Daumal Comments

Rene Daumal Quotes

Words are made for a certain exactness of thought, as tears are for a certain degree of pain. What is least distinct cannot be named; what is clearest is unutterable.

It is still not enough for language to have clarity and content ... it must also have a goal and an imperative. Otherwise from language we descend to chatter, from chatter to babble and from babble to confusion.

Common experience is the gold reserve which confers an exchange value on the currency which words are; without this reserve of shared experiences, all our pronouncements are cheques drawn on insufficient funds.

Each time dawn appears, the mystery is there in its entirety.

Art has a double face, of expression and illusion, just like science has a double face: the reality of error and the phantom of truth.

Truth is one, but error proliferates. Man tracks it down and cuts it up into little pieces hoping to turn it into grains of truth. But the ultimate atom will always essentially be an error, a miscalculation.

Man is head, chest and stomach. Each of these animals operates, more often than not, individually. I eat, I feel, I even, although rarely, think.... This jungle crawls and teems, is hungry, roars, gets angry, devours itself, and its cacophonic concert does not even stop when you are asleep.

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