generals of the most recent wars
if a similar affair happens to them
whine on their knees before posterity
praise their heroism and innocence
they accuse their subordinates
envious colleagues
unfavourable winds
Thucydides says only
that he had seven ships
it was winter
and he sailed quickly
It did not take any great character
our refusal dissent and persistence
we had a scrap of necessary courage
but essentially it was a matter of taste
Yes taste
which has fibers of soul and the gristle of conscience
Who knows if we’d been better more prettily tempted
sent women pink and flat as wafers
or fantastic creatures out of Hieronymous Bosch
but what did hell look like in those days
a mud pit a cutthroat’s alley a barracks
called a Palace of Justice
a moonshine Mephisto in a Lenin jacket
sent Aurora’s grandchildren into the field
boys with potato-eaters’ faces
very ugly girls with red hands
Truly their rhetoric was weaved of used sackcloth
(Marcus Tullius turned in his grave)
chains of tautologies a few ailing concepts
torturers’ dialectics reasoning without grace
syntax devoid of the beauty of the subjunctive
So in fact aesthetics can be an aid in life
one shouldn’t neglect the study of beauty
Before we assent we must examine closely
architectural forms rhythms of drum and flutes
oficial colors the homely rituals of burial
Our eyes and ears refused to submit
our princely senses chose proud exile
It did not take any great character
we had a scrap of necessary courage
but in essence it was a matter of taste
Yes taste
which tells you to walk out wince spit out your scorn
even if for that your body’s precious capital the head
would roll