The vast azure seascape sparkling under the sun’s roar,
Is the coming stage of howling thunders and hectic lightning
To shatter broken ships carelessly along its boundless shore
And prepare the beds for the millions who come whitening,
While the eye of heaven indifferently smiles.
Today one is born, and another viciously brought to his end
Man is Nature’s straw dog, a ragged plaything, disposable,
Oh, if I have learned a thing tis that Nature’s no man’s friend;
It goes along its unchanging course leaving the opposable
Crushed.
I cry, but what right have I to make demands of Nature
Merely cause there’s no suffering in my vain philosophy?
I curse her for her cruelty, but what right has a creature
In front of its Creator to spin a phantasmagorical story? -
Jerusalem is a fiction!
Oh Jerusalem, what need have I of you or you of me
For if you exist, then certainly you care not for flies
And neither can the fly with your perfect purity agree;
That which is imperfect I understand, all else are lies,
And salvation too is a terrible lie!
Like Sisyphus, I pick up my lovely rock, not my cross,
I follow not the Crucified, but the madness of Dionysus,
I ascend under the golden galleon to Olympus at a loss,
Regardless, “non serviam”, thus spake Prometheus,
For the struggle itself is the joy of the morning star! — Agustino
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