Dejected like a fugitive, despised like a criminal, vituperated like a
spy, in the cold and distant solitude we drink drop by drop a bottomless
cup of gall, and every drop is bitterer than the last; but we know that
she breathes the air of our planet, which we too breathe; we know that
she is inebriated by the same sun that warms us; we know that among the
numberless shadows that wander through the spaces of the invisible there
is a creature around whom the air becomes mellower and the light
brighter; that there are certain clods of earth which yield to the
weight of a body that we love. No; as long as the woman we love lives,
hope does not lose all its feathers, and far, far away, less tangible
than a dream, more invisible than the regions of heaven, more
inconceivable than eternity, it still soars on our horizon, perhaps not
believed, not confessed, but it still lives and keeps us alive.
But when we still live and she is dead; when we are still so cowardly as
to live, to breathe, to eat, and she is buried in the humid miasma of a
wooden coffin; when all the world still exists and she is dead; when the
joy of a thousand flowers that blossom in every ray of light, the trills
of a thousand birds that sing of love, the groups of the fortunates who
embrace each other, and the benedictions of so many happy creatures are
nothing but a frame to a gelid void, a dark world; when we remain
suspended between an infinity of joy that _was_ ours and an infinity of
sorrow that _is_ ours and shall be ours tomorrow and as long as we are
so cowardly as to live,--then we may look upon suicide as the supreme
joy of life, as the most sublime of human prides; then we may understand
how man can in a flash dream of the great voluptuousness of mingling his
bones with those of another creature; then we can understand how
imagination can smile at the idea of the embrace of two corpses, of the
fusion of two ashes, of the resurrection of two existences extinguished
in the perfume of two flowers grown upon a human grave and which the
wind blandly brings together that they may kiss again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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