I am like the king of a rainy land,
Wealthy but powerless, both young and very old,
Who contemns the fawning manners of his tutors
And is bored with his dogs and other animals.
Nothing can cheer him, neither the chase nor falcons,
Nor his people dying before his balcony.
The ludicrous ballads of his favorite clown
No longer smooth the brow of this cruel invalid;
His bed, adorned with fleurs-de-lis, becomes a grave;
The lady's maids, to whom every prince is handsome,
No longer can find gowns shameless enough
To wring a smile from this young skeleton.
The alchemist who makes his gold was never able
To extract from him the tainted element,
And in those baths of blood come down from Roman times,
And which in their old age the powerful recall,
He failed to warm this dazed cadaver in whose veins
Flows the green water of Lethe in place of blood.
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)作者: isolé 时间: 2013-8-22 15:07
美,灵魂的无比崇高的追求的拱顶石。时光,真实与善良都只是她的基石。但当这个世界只能因充斥着完美的假定而坠入无尽的悲哀时,我们发现美是如此的阴暗恶臭,美溃脓了,美发霉了,美在丧钟与挽曲里死去活来,美,再也不是善了。 真,人存在于这个漠然的世界,用自己的眼睛目睹着个无比真实的世界。巴黎街头恶臭的垃圾,溃脓的嘶喊,扭曲的面孔在我们身旁真实的存在着,就像我们一样地存在着。我们的美丽的真理的终结与它们的消逝并无二致,真,再也不是美了。 善,就在仰望的那一瞬间升华,无限的崇敬与纯粹的光。可是,为什么目之所及只有欲望的囚徒,用被滥用的信仰梏桎自己残缺的灵魂,为填补空虚,为了随意生杀予夺而信仰。带着善的面具鞭挞,勒绞,屠戮。关怀从未发自灵魂,善,再也不是真了。