|''O que é bonito me encanta, mas o que é sincero me fascina.''
"A beleza age mesmo sobre aqueles que não a constatam."
— Jean Cocteau
“And if all that is meaningless, I want to be cured
Of a craving for something I cannot find
And of the shame of never finding it.”
— T.S. Eliot, The Cocktail Party
I crossed sand-hills,
I stand among the sea-drift before Aulis.
I crossed Euripos’ strait –
Foam hissed after my boat.
I left Chalkis,
My city and the rock-ledges,
Arethusa twists among the boulders,
Increases – cuts into the surf.
I came to see the battle-line
And the ships rowed here
By these spirits –
The Greeks are but half-men.
And Agamemnon of proud birth
Direct the thousand ships.
They have cut pine-trees
For their oars.
They have gathered the ships for one purpose:
Helen shall return.
There are clumps of marsh-reed
And spear-grass about the strait.
Paris the herdsman passed through them
When he took Helen – Aphrodite’s gift.
For he had judged the goddess
More beautiful than Hera.
Pallas was no longer radiant
As the three stood
Among the fresh-shallows of the strait.