Always look at the dark side of the Moon

September 29, 2010 § 1 Comment

After LU CHI (261-303)

Man lives only a moment;

the Moon is forever renewed.

What can we do to capture life´s enigmatic plenitude?

Good and bad operate at cross purposes;

the Moon is forever resolved;

and after a hundred years who of us will be around?

It is sad to see the rivers slip away;

the present time escape us, always one step ahead.

The Moon is full again.

We say the wisdom of the Ancients was all-encompassing.

And yet, whose soul is moved today?

The Moon looks on ironically.

Granted, it is difficult to pin down what merit consists of;

each new endeavour riddled with mistakes,

but how else can we assess that which outlives us?

Either that, or nothing whatever survives.

The Moon is grinning like a cat.

Racked with doubt the sage sighs –

What else can he do but sigh deeply?

The Law of Gravity

September 29, 2010 § 1 Comment

Running rings around Saturn

Says Laurel to Hardy, his boon,

“Would you kindly step out of the room?

– Each time I move sideways,

 you’re always beside me;

I feel like a saturnian moon”.

The Red Planet Hoax

September 24, 2010 § 1 Comment

Every fourth millennium the sky opens,

and light arranges words on haloed paper;

Mars sits in ruby anguish;

Areopagus, to justify the Earth.

When the Martian dust has settled ...

Second Life

September 24, 2010 § 1 Comment

The sleep of reason produces monsters.

Dreaming is a second life. I have not been able to penetrate those doors of ivory and horn separating us from the unseen world without trembling. The first moments of sleep bear the image of death; a nebulous torpor takes hold of our mind, and we cannot determine the exact instant at which the self, under another guise, continues the work of existence. A vague subterranean world comes gradually to light, where the pale gravely still figures who inhabit the realms of limbo appear out of the shadows and the night. It is then the vision takes shape, and a new clarity illuminates and enlivens a host of strange apparitions – the world of the Spirits opens up before our eyes.

Is dara saol an taibhreamh. Níor éirigh liom riamh dul thar thairseach dhoirse eabhartha an domhain dhiamhair sin gan creathadh a bheith orm. Samhlaítear dúinn an bás i gcéad mheandar an tsuain; beireann marbhnéal suanach bua ar an anam, agus is doiligh a dhéanamh amach go cruinn an phointe ag a leanann an mise ar aghaidh, faoi ghné dhifriúil, le saothar na beatha.  Músclaíonn amhlachais ghruama áitreabhaigh an liombó sin as foscadh agus duifean na hoíche, agus de réir mar a dhealraíonn an radharc, meidhríonn an ghlaine lonrach na taibhsí aisteacha – ag oscailt dhomhan na Sprideanna amach os ár gcomhar.


La rêve est une seconde vie. Je n’ai pu percer sans frémir ces portes d’ivoire ou de corne qui nous séparent du monde invisible. Les premiers instants du sommeil sont l’image de la mort; une engourdissement nébuleux saisit notre pensée, et nous ne pouvons déterminer l’instant précis où le moi , sous une autre forme, continue l’oeuvre de l’existence. C’est un souterrain vague qui s’éclaire peu à peu, et où se dégagent de l’ombre et de la nuit les pâles figures gravement immobiles qui habitent le séjour des limbes. Puis le tableau se forme, une clarté nouvelle illumine et fait jouer ces apparations bizaares; – le monde des Esprits s’ouvre pour nous.

Gérard de Nerval

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