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


Yañes el lusitano 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.

Pola said...

Oh, mi Yáñez! <3

Yañes el lusitano said...

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

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.