Nietzche
Bluelighter
a paucity of peripatetic pedagogues
a pendulum periodically posts its position
an apotropaic talisman?
perhaps . . .
The thunder spoke the striking of the tower,
its fragments fell upon the shore -
the testimonial of the disinherited.
In sundry languages the troubadour’s song is sung,
in the mountains (there you feel free?)
and am I inspired by your soaring heights?
While Venus holds her vigil -
the pendulum swings
and the sparrows song is heard amidst the blooming lilacs
"Gang aft a-gley! Gang aft a-gley! Gang aft a-agley!"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Cumae, thou arete a fierce Maenad!
and through Trimalchio's drunken boasts
your fragments, they fell.
Cast off of their context;
more do they tell -
of a western wind approaching and a gate to be kept.
I come to you Sybil,
of advice I am in need.
For though I am feeble -
your answers I will heed.
nam Sibyllam quidem cumis ego ipseoculis meis vidi in ampulla pendere
The horror I encountered in that cupped hand
spread darkness in my heart.
Fragments of pedagogues turned to dust -
I was shown.
As the pendulum periodically posts its position.
Perhaps . . .
a pendulum periodically posts its position
an apotropaic talisman?
perhaps . . .
The thunder spoke the striking of the tower,
its fragments fell upon the shore -
the testimonial of the disinherited.
In sundry languages the troubadour’s song is sung,
in the mountains (there you feel free?)
and am I inspired by your soaring heights?
While Venus holds her vigil -
the pendulum swings
and the sparrows song is heard amidst the blooming lilacs
"Gang aft a-gley! Gang aft a-gley! Gang aft a-agley!"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Cumae, thou arete a fierce Maenad!
and through Trimalchio's drunken boasts
your fragments, they fell.
Cast off of their context;
more do they tell -
of a western wind approaching and a gate to be kept.
I come to you Sybil,
of advice I am in need.
For though I am feeble -
your answers I will heed.
nam Sibyllam quidem cumis ego ipseoculis meis vidi in ampulla pendere
The horror I encountered in that cupped hand
spread darkness in my heart.
Fragments of pedagogues turned to dust -
I was shown.
As the pendulum periodically posts its position.
Perhaps . . .
