Death's too good for them

Увидела у Имморалиста ссылку на похвалу бессмертного афедрона:

Это блестящий текст, очень веселый и сильный, по-настоящему народный...
Автор «Креста» довольно искусно сталкивает два языковых мира, а значит и два мироощущения (искусственное христианское и естественное народное, языческое), в результате чего рождаются великолепный сюжет и неподдельный комизм (это можно назвать затасканным словом «постмодернизм», но прибавив к этому слову определение «настоящий»).

Не могу не вспомнить фрагмент из самого начала романа The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (по ссылке книгу можно скачать. Кто не читал - тот дурак).

Капитан вогонского корабля пытает пленников отвратительными вогонскими стихами - как это у них, садистов, коррупционеров и циников, принято делать перед казнью.

...Arthur said brightly: "Actually I quite liked it."
Ford turned and gaped. Here was an approach that had quite simply not occurred to him.
The Vogon raised a surprised eyebrow that effectively obscured his nose and was therefore no bad thing.
"Oh good ..." he whirred, in considerable astonishment.
"Oh yes," said Arthur, "I thought that some of the metaphysical imagery was really particularly effective."
(...)
"Yes, do continue ..." invited the Vogon.
"Oh ... and er ... interesting rhythmic devices too," continued Arthur, "which seemed to counterpoint the ... er ... er ..." He floundered.
Ford leaped to his rescue, hazarding "counterpoint the surrealism of the underlying metaphor of the ... er..." He floundered too, but Arthur was ready again.
"... humanity of the ..."
"Vogonity," Ford hissed at him.
(...)
The Vogon perused them. For a moment his embittered racial soul had been touched, but he thought no - too little too late. His voice took on the quality of a cat snagging brushed nylon.
"So what you're saying is that I write poetry because underneath my mean callous heartless exterior I really just want to be loved," he said. He paused. "Is that right?"
(...)
The Vogon stood up.
""No, well you're completely wrong," he said, "I just write poetry to throw my mean callous heartless exterior into sharp relief. I'm going to throw you off the ship anyway. Guard! Take the prisoners to number three airlock and throw them out!"
(...)
The guard grasped them both firmly round the neck, and bowing deferentially towards his captain's back, hoiked them both protesting out of the bridge. A steel door closed and the captain was on his own again. He hummed quietly and mused to himself, lightly fingering his notebook of verses.
"Hmmmm," he said, "counterpoint the surrealism of the underlying metaphor ..." He considered this for a moment, and then closed the book with a grim smile.
"Death's too good for them," he said.

::Louise Glück

Persephone the Wanderer

In the first version, Persephone
is taken from her mother
and the goddess of the earth
punishes the earth—this is
consistent with what we known of human behavior,

( Read more... )

As is well known, the return of the beloved
does not correct
the loss of the beloved: ( Read more... )

You must ask yourself:
where is it snowing?

White of forgetfulness,
of desecration—

It is snowing on earth; the cold wind says

Persephone is having sex in hell.

( Read more... )

When the passion for expiation
is chronic, fierce, you do not choose
the way you live. You do not live;
you are not allowed to die.

( Read more... )

Song of the earth,
song of the mystic vision of eternal life—

My soul
shattered with the strain
of trying to belong to earth—

What will you do,
when it is your turn in the field with the god?