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￭ in return for your navy blue shirt
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2008-05-19 | |
Brought to the second story,
In the room âthe museumâs heartâ,
I shout: Hallucination!
I see how, from the frames of the paintings,
The naked bodies of Titian,
The kings, princes and gentlemen,
The aristocratic ladies of Goya,
Some of them graceful, some haughty;
I start to feel how suffering, injustice,
They strolled easily through that world,
Join to happiness, welfare,
There is nothing new in the universe, I tell myself,
Only a repetition! The sinuous line of life!
Here is Socrates threatening and yelling:
âThis person is your soul!â
With his outreached hand, taking the poison,
With his voice touched faithâs wave...
I ponder... Jesus repeatedly said:
And some people didnât want to, didnât want to listen...
Am I hallucinating? Dreaming?
But what would this passing through this museum be, without dreams?
All the soulâs dreams, I feel them open!
Rembrandtâs old men and philosophers appear;
For a long time I contemplate the face of Aristotle,
He who is contemplating Homer!
The meditation of meditation!
My staring look stare
Stops at this legendary poet,
At his crowned head of spiral curly hair...
Between his lips which stand ajar,
His arched eyebrows show pride and courage;
His gaze is something out of this world...
âI am little of what I have metâ,
I hear him saying.
Aristotle meditates rationally, profoundly,
Looks gently at Homer,
With a blessing hand,
And he answers:
âYes, but you also, you have moved this world!â
I see the swords of light somewhere in the sky falling,
On the colorful faces,
Discovering truths, beauties,
The mystery of this departed world
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