But the day which began with such fiery solemnity underwent a strange
mythical transformation. Where did the breeze originate which suddenly
began playing so gently and insinuatingly, like some whispered
suggestion, about his ears and temples? Little white choppy clouds stood
in the sky in scattered clumps, like the pasturing herds of the gods. A
stronger wind arose, and the steeds of Poseidon came prancing up, and
along with them the steers which belonged to the blue-locked god,
bellowing and lowering their horns as they ran. Yet among the detritus
of the more distant beach waves were hopping forward like agile goats.
He was caught in the enchantment of a sacredly distorted world full of
Panic life--and he dreamed delicate legends. Often, when the sun was
sinking behind Venice, he would sit on a bench in the park observing
Tadzio who was dressed in a white suit with a coloured sash and was
playing ball on the smooth gravel--and it was Hyacinth that he seemed to
be watching. Hyacinth who was to die because two gods loved him. Yes, he
felt Zephyr's aching jealousy of the rival who forgot the oracle, the
bow, and the lyre, in order to play for ever with this beauty. He saw
the discus, guided by a pitiless envy, strike the lovely head; he too,
growing pale, caught the drooping body--and the flower, sprung from this
sweet blood, bore the inscription of his unending grief.
Nothing is more unusual and strained than the relationship between
people who know each other only with their eyes, who meet daily, even
hourly, and yet are compelled, by force of custom or their own caprices,
to say no word or make no move of acknowledgement, but to maintain the
appearance of an aloof unconcern. There is a restlessness and a
surcharged curiosity existing between them, the hysteria of an
unsatisfied, unnaturally repressed desire for acquaintanceship and
intercourse; and especially there is a kind of tense respect. For one
person loves and honours another so long as he cannot judge him, and
desire is an evidence of incomplete knowledge.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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