Περίμενες να βρεις ζεστασιά και ελπίδα, συντροφιά και ηρεμία. Περίμενες να χορέψεις τον χορό της ευτυχίας, να χορέψεις στους ρυθμούς μιας καινούριας μελωδίας. Δεν περίμενες όμως πως η μελωδία αυτή πιο πολύ την δυστυχία επαινεί παρά την χαρούμενη εικόνα που σχεδίαζες κάθε μέρα στο μυαλό σου. Χαμένος τώρα κοιτάς τον καθρέφτη με μετάνοια. Μετάνιωσες που είχες μεγάλες προσδοκίες, αγνοώντας την πιθανότητα να μην αντικρίσεις την χαριτωμένη σου εικόνα. Μετανιώνεις κάθε μέρα που αγνοείς τις πνευματικές σου ανάγκες, που σταματάς τον χρόνο χαμένος σε ανούσιες ασχολίες. Κουράστηκα να μετανιώνω, κουράστηκα να σκέφτομαι τι θα γινόταν αν είχα πράξει διαφορετικά, αν είχα σκεφτεί διαφορετικά. Ίσως ήρθε η ώρα να περάσω στο επόμενο στάδιο.
Δ.Μ
from: A SEASON IN HELL by ARTHUR RIMBAUD
ΑπάντησηΔιαγραφήWhen I was still a little child, I admired the hardened convict on whom the prison door will always close; I used to visit the bars and the rented rooms his presence had consecrated; I saw with his eyes the blue sky and the flower-filled work of the fields; I followed his fatal scent through city streets. He had more strength than the saints, more sense than any explorer - and he, he alone! was witness to his glory and his rightness.
From my ancestors the Gauls I have pale blue eyes, a narrow brain, and awkwardness in competition. I think my clothes are as barbaric as theirs. But I don't butter my hair.
From them, I inherit: idolatry, and love of sacrelige; - oh! all sorts of vice, anger, lechery, - terrific stuff, lechery; - lying, above all, and laziness.
I have a horror of all trades and crafts. Bosses and workers, all of them peasants, and common. The hand that holds the pen is as good as the one that holds the plow. - What a century for hands! - I'll never learn to use my hands. And then, domesticity goes too far. The propriety of beggary shames me. Criminals are as disgusting as men without balls: I'm intact, and I don't care.
But! who has made my tongue so treacherous, that until now it has counseled and kept me in idleness? I have not used even my body to get along. Out-idling the sleepy toad, I have lived everywhere. There's not one family in Europe that I don't know. - Families, I mean, like mine, who owe their existence to the Declaration of the Rights of Man. - I have known each family's eldest son!
What was I in the century past: I only find myself today. The vagabonds, the hazy wars are gone. The inferior race has swept over all - the People, as they put it, Reason; Nation and Science. Science, the new nobility! Progress. The world moves!... And why shouldn't it?
We have visions of numbers. We are moving toward the Spirit. What I say is oracular and absolutely right. I understand, and since I cannot express myself except in pagan terms, I would rather keep quiet.
Pagan blood returns! The Spirit is at hand, why does Christ not help me, and grant my soul nobility and freedom. Ah!
I will come back with limbs of iron, with dark skin, and angry eyes: in this mask, they will think I belong to a strong race. I will have gold: I will be brutal and indolent. Saved.
Come on! Marching, burdens, the desert, boredom and anger.
Hire myself to whom? What beasts adore? What sacred images destroy? What hearts shall I break? What lie maintain? - Through what blood wade?