By absent-minded on
Friday, June 7, 2002
Friday, June 29, 2001
There is no brighter thing than Truth.
Do you search with love and madness to find her?
Is your research fruitful like the Night,
knowing for sure that the Sun will burst pompously?
your research like the Night, when no matter how many darknesses
may whip, comely something always sparkles, the plenty of
the stars, or, at least, that anxious through clouds
dull dawn of a light that leads.
Contrariwise, who doesn't care for Truth,
is his negligence's supposed serenity
like the eternal night of the wicked death, - fruitless,
without any thing to be feared or expected, without beginning,
without end, unconscious, like the bare concept
of death, without trophies of colors, without even the splendor
of a future Judgment with trumpets.
Translated by Elpenor.