shud-shee
02-24-2009, 09:19 AM
Could you scan for lapsus lingae? This recitative (iambic) I'm going to involve in my short. Eschatological anecdote with alchemist-looking protagonist, camera a-la Irreversibility, surrealism decorations, old horror's tricks - rapid and various gothic dainties. These are first 30 lines - exposition. I guess, their amount will increase up to 200-220
Dostoevsky а l'envers (working title)
Is the world to go to pot, or am I to go without my tea? I say that the world may go to pot for me so long as I always get my tea.
Dostoevsky, Notes from the Underground
1Inclement sky has dawned its hollow limbs on Earth,
And malice, poignant, wrecked, so wretched, so wroth,
Decapitated Knight, his acolytes
World captivated and defiled throughout.
5Each petty man his faires forsook for they
Obeyed raw filthiness, flat vanity, although
Some multitude behave, miraculously
They strive, abducted from whatever life.
10Not been engulfed by asceticism opaquely
Which Nietzsche in his lofty works denounced.
Not been enticed by pure mind – this monstrous
Kant’s homunculus born with no heart and sense.
And des Esseintes is vieillerie, and so is Freud,
15Not even Ьbermensch can be excuse for us,
Though I can travesty in its disguise a bit.
Vile Wille deceived itself, and Sizigy
May be the sole way to retouch reality
And “brighten up” йtat de santй of our souls.
20My Brethren cherish mystic’s faith and rest, for chest
Within there ardour dwells and wells are fed
By tinctures of Bohme, Baader, Paracelsus.
Who are they? I am one of them, I trust.
They’re egoists, but Nietzschean sprouts, indeed
25Each one of them is Antichrist, immoralist.
Their afternoon tea is more humane than State,
Which can go right to pot as long as they are served.
For multitudes are underfed and starve, for youth
Has no prospect in life, and war reaps fruits each holy day.
30Who’d advocate world in the light of aforesaid?
True, this pour fou would advocate the Devil himself.
Dostoevsky а l'envers (working title)
Is the world to go to pot, or am I to go without my tea? I say that the world may go to pot for me so long as I always get my tea.
Dostoevsky, Notes from the Underground
1Inclement sky has dawned its hollow limbs on Earth,
And malice, poignant, wrecked, so wretched, so wroth,
Decapitated Knight, his acolytes
World captivated and defiled throughout.
5Each petty man his faires forsook for they
Obeyed raw filthiness, flat vanity, although
Some multitude behave, miraculously
They strive, abducted from whatever life.
10Not been engulfed by asceticism opaquely
Which Nietzsche in his lofty works denounced.
Not been enticed by pure mind – this monstrous
Kant’s homunculus born with no heart and sense.
And des Esseintes is vieillerie, and so is Freud,
15Not even Ьbermensch can be excuse for us,
Though I can travesty in its disguise a bit.
Vile Wille deceived itself, and Sizigy
May be the sole way to retouch reality
And “brighten up” йtat de santй of our souls.
20My Brethren cherish mystic’s faith and rest, for chest
Within there ardour dwells and wells are fed
By tinctures of Bohme, Baader, Paracelsus.
Who are they? I am one of them, I trust.
They’re egoists, but Nietzschean sprouts, indeed
25Each one of them is Antichrist, immoralist.
Their afternoon tea is more humane than State,
Which can go right to pot as long as they are served.
For multitudes are underfed and starve, for youth
Has no prospect in life, and war reaps fruits each holy day.
30Who’d advocate world in the light of aforesaid?
True, this pour fou would advocate the Devil himself.