Saturday, January 30, 2016

Beautiful Words

Lauro de Bosis (1901-1931): from "Icaro", The First Act

...

PASIPHAE

Icarus, love can do all things.


ICARUS

Mine can do nothing. It dares to look too high.

PASIPHAE
  
Look at me, poet.

ICARUS
   
Queen, thine eyes cause me to lower mine.

PASIPHAE
   
Look at me, poet.  Icarus, read in my heart.

ICARUS
  
Lady, the human heart is a dread abyss.

PASIPHAE
   
And thou fearest to look into it?

ICARUS
   
Queen, to-day a mortal unrest, relentless and obscure, op-
presses me. Let the poet first regain his calm.

PASIPHAE

What torments thee?

ICARUS
  
An eagle that has wildly beating wings but whose claws are
caught fast in the rock.

PASIPHAE
  
Thou, the hunter of eagles - now their prey? Let me disperse thy phantoms:  I know a philtre for all thy torment.



Lauro de Bosis, "Icaro"


Silver Olympic Medal
Arts, Dramatic Works
Amsterdam 1928

Oxford University Press
London:Humphrey Milford 1933
Translation Ruth Draper
Icaro

Art Competitions at The Olympic Games

Monday, January 11, 2016

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) : from "The Masque of Pandora"

                                 III

TOWER OF PROMETHEUS ON MOUNT CAUCASUS

                                  PROMOTHEUS.

I HEAR the trumpet of Alectryon

Proclaim the dawn.   The stars begin to fade,


And all the heavens are full of prophecies


And evil auguries.   Blood-red last night


I saw great Kronos rise ; the crescent moon


Sank through the mist, as if it were the scythe

His parricidal hand had flung far down

The western steeps.   O ye immortal Gods,

What evils are ye plotting and contriving ?


             
        HERMES and PANDORA at the threshold

                                  PANDORA.


I cannot cross the threshold.   An unseen

And icy hand repels me.   These blank walls 

Oppress me with their weight !



                                   PROMETHEUS.

                                                 Powerful ye are,

But not omnipotent.   Ye cannot fight 

Against Necessity.   The Fates control you,

As they do us, and so far we are equals !


                                   PANDORA.

Motionless, passionless, companionless

He sits there muttering in his beard.   His voice 

Is like a river flowing underground!



                                  HERMES.

Prometheus,  hail !



                                  PROMETHEUS.

                                                  Who calls me  ?



                                 HERMES. 

                                                                 It is I.

Dost Thou not know me ?



                                  PROMETHEUS.

                                                   By thy winged cap

And winged heels I know thee.   Thou art Hermes,

Captain of thieves !   Hast thou again been stealing 

The heifers of Admetus in the sweet   

Meadows of asphodel ?   Or Hera's girdle ?

Or the earth-shaking trident of Poseidon ?                     



                                  HERMES.

And thou, Prometheus ; say , hast thou again

Been stealing fire from Helios' chariot-wheels

To light thy furnaces ?



                           PROMETHEUS.

                                   Why comest though hither

So early in the dawn ?



                            HERMES.

                                   The Immortal Gods 

Know naught of late or early.    Zeus himself 

The omnipotent hath sent me.



                            PROMETHEUS.

                                              For what purpose ?



                            HERMES.

To bring this maiden to thee.



                                   PROMETHEUS.

                                                   I mistrust

The Gods and all their gifts.   If they have sent her

It is for no good purpose.



                           HERMES.

                                                    What disaster

Could she bring on thy house, who is a woman ?



                                   PROMETHEUS.

The Gods are not my friends, nor am I theirs.

Whatever comes from them, though in a shape

As beautiful as this, is evil only.

Who art though ?



                                 PANDORA.

            One who, though to thee unknown,

Yet knoweth thee.



                                PROMETHEUS.

    How shouldst thou know me, woman ?





The Masque of Pandora , 1875