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Robert Auer (1873-1952) - Allegory of medical science (oil on canvas, 1914)
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Apolo lamentando la desaparición de Jacinto,
No cedería la victoria a la Muerte.
Su alma, adepta a las transformaciones,
Debía encontrar una alquimia sagrada para la Belleza.
Así, con su mano celestial drenó y machacó
Los sutiles dones de la divina Flora.
Sus cuerpos rotos exhalaron un aliento dorado
De donde cosechó nuestra primera gota... de Ajenjo!
En bodegas quejumbrosas, en palacios resplandecientes,
A solas o juntos beban esa poción de deseo!
Pues es un embrujo, un conjuro,
este vino pálido y opalino aborta la miseria,
Abre el santuario íntimo de la belleza,
Embruja mi corazón, lleva mi alma al éxtasis.
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That night I drank deeply and long of my favourite nectar. Glass after glass I prepared, and drained each one off with insatiable and ever-increasing apetite.
I drank till the solid walls of my own room, when I at last found myself there, appeared to me like transparent glass, shot throughout with emerald flame, surrounded on all sides by phantoms.
Beautiful, hideous, angelic, devilish.
I reeled to my couch in a sort of waking swoon, conscious of strange sounds everywhere. Like the clanging of brazen bells, and the silver fanfaranade of the trumpets of war, conscious too of a similar double sensation - namely, as though myself were divided into two persons, who opposed eachother in deadly combat, in which neither could possibly obtain even the merest shadow-victory.
Absinth...
That night I drank deeply and long. Glass after glass I prepared, and drained each one off till the solid walls of my own room, when I at last found myself there, like emerald glass, shot throughout with emerald flame, surrounded on all sides in a sort of waking swoon, conscious of strange sounds. The trumpets of war, a similar double sensation - namely, as though myself were divided into deadly combat, without even the merest shadow-victory... absinth... beautiful... hideous... angelic... absinth... devilish... absinth... beautiful.
Absinth.
That night I drank deeply and long... drained each one off till the solid walls of my own self appeared to me like emerald glass, surrounded on all sides by phantasms.
I... reeled to my couch in a sort of waking swoon, like the clanging of brazen bells, namely, as though myself were divided into a similar double sensation, like emerald glass, surrounded on all sides by my favorite nectar.
Th... that night... I drank deeply and long. Glass after glass I prepared, till the solid walls of myself were emerald flame, surrounded on all sides by phantoms. Beautiful, hideous absinth, angelic, devilish absinth. I reeled to my swoon, everywhere brazen bells, absinth, silver fanfaranade of the trumpets of combat, which neither my favorite nectar nor I had prepared glass after glass, I drank till solid walls of myself... absinth...
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By Venus and Cupid and all the dear old heathen deities
Who are so remarkably convinient myths to take one's oath upon
I hope you will not compel me to consider you a fool
Beauvais! What an idea that is of yours - 'medicinal green!'
Think of melted emeralds instead
There beside you, you have the most marvelous cordial in all the world -
Drink, and you will find your sorrows transmuted - yourself transformed!
Even if no better result be obtained than escaping the chill you have incurred in this
Night's heavy drenching, that is surely enough!
Life without Absinthe! I can not imagine it!
For me it would be impossible!
I should hang, drown or shoot myself into infinitude,
Out of sheer rage at the continued cruelty and injustice of the world -
But with this divine nectar of Olympus I can defy misfortune and laugh at poverty
As though they were the merest bagatels
Come! - to your health, mon brave! Drink with me!
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With flowers, and with women
With absinthe, and with this fire
We can divert ourselves a while
Act out our part in some drama
Absinthe, on a winter evening
Lights up in green the sooty soul;
And Flowers, on the beloved
Grow fragrant before the clear fire
Later, kisses lose their charm
Having lasted several seasons;
And after mutual betrayals
We part one day without a tear
We burn letters and bouquets
And fire takes our bower;
And if sad life is salvaged
Still there is absinthe and its hiccups
The portraits are eaten by flames
Shrivelled fingers tremble
We die from sleeping long
With flowers, and with women
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Green changed to white, emerald to opal: nothing was changed
The man let the water trickle gently into his glass, and as the green clouded, a mist fell from his mind
Then he drank opaline
Memories and terrors beset him, the past tore after him like a panther
And through the blackness of the present he saw the luminous tiger eyes of the things to be
But he drank opaline
And that obscure night of the soul, and the valley of humiliation, through which he stumbled, were forgotten
He saw blue vistas of undiscovered countries, high prospects and a quiet, caressing sea
The past shed its perfume over him to-day held his hand as if it were a little child
And to-morrow shone like a white star; nothing was changed
He drank opaline
The man had known the obscure night of the soul, and lay even now in the valley of humiliation;
And the tiger menace of the things to be was red in the skies, ut for a little while he had forgotten
Green changed to white, emerald to opal;
Nothing was changed
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