i.
'Tis a dreamlike three-month unreal and fair,
But too fair to look back: precious vision!
So nigh, though in dramatic pretension,
I held her, with my heart so full and bare.
A sentiment on the stage I did care
In secret: a Truth within the fiction;
Lost was my poor self in sweet confusion:
Jean and Jane became one in the trio air.
Now in applause the end had come to pass;
The falling curtain soundly tolled me back
From my audacious fantasy of Love,
(That I shall see through with a wiser glass)
To fixed reality, with the foreseen lack
Of Hope, seeking her heart from high above.
ii.
Of Hope, seeking her heart from high above,
Self-bereft am I, for I too well know,
That Hope serves as Fate's cheating craft, and lo:
Men had wailed after hopefully strove.
Must I be free of Hope, and free of Love?
Let limpid stream purge me in its soft flow;
Let strong wind waft me up, and forth me blow,
From sublunar earth, as a carefree dove!
Yet nay! Freedom cannot ease the desire
For Love and for Hope, and 'tis but a lie
To say I look not forward to dream about
Some warm rewards for my efforts devout.
So see how Love with sly Hope doth conspire,
Seting an endless rack for woeful I!
--
Amor vincit omnia.
--
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◆ From: 114.45.212.54
※ 編輯: amadeus1223 來自: 114.45.212.54 (12/25 11:44)
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