Wednesday, January 5, 2011

How to make madness beautiful

Here the self-torturing sophist, wild Rousseau,
The apostle of affliction, he who threw
Enchantment over passion, and from woe
Wrung overwhelming eloquence, first drew
The breath which made him wretched; yet he knew
How to make madness beautiful, and cast
O'er erring deeds and thoughts a heavenly hue
Of words, like sunbeams, dazzling as they passed
The eyes, which o'er them shed tears feelingly and fast.

His life was one long war with self-sought foes,
Or friends by him self-banished; for his mind
Had grown Suspicion's sanctuary, and chose,
For its own cruel sacrifice, the kind,
'Gainst whom he raged with fury strange and blind.
But he was frenzied,-wherefore, who may know?
Since cause might be which skill could never find;
But he was frenzied by disease or woe
To that worst pitch of all, which wears a reasoning show.



Lord Byron, about my beloved ginebrino Jean Jacques

3 comments:

Ricardo Luis said...

En el mar Malayo, en las costas de Borneo, muy cerca de la ciudad de Labuan, Yañez el lusitano, prendió su computadora y vió en un blog, un intenso color fuccia, que cubría toda la pantalla y recordó por un instante, que la felicidad cuando comienza, tiene ese color.

srta.pola said...

Oh, mi Yáñez! <3

Ricardo Luis said...

Un cuento si breve, puede ser una orquidea, entre las paginas de un libro de salgari,
---o---

Se tropezo con el mismo saliendo del espejo, se miraron y se reconocieron iguales, dudo un segundo y le pregunto a su imagen,
--¿Estas viva?
--Exactamente como vos, ambos nos vemos.
Yañez el lusitano.