''This is your erudition? '
Life,
with the utmost asperity,
inquires of Petrulous the Ghost...
Life subjects this innocent apparition,
with its intellectual virulence-
the origins of this malicious weapon:
the ever present,
ever eternal,
Self-Aggrandizing Stimuli-
to the overt hindrance of a continuously improving education,
to the subtle adulteration of a strong, unpolluted spirit
(which also doubles as his earthly form) ,
and to the incessant longing for that timeless solace,
Conformity...'
Now there is a message of some philosophical nature in all of this;
there is that feeling of despair
(or maybe triumph?)
in this passage:
Written by the inspired hand of some writer seeking to grasp
those metaphysical vapors, restlessly floating through their
cognition, and render them into the concrete ideals that only
the intricate prose of an author of fiction can create...
I'm not that author and my prose is not that intricate,
so you'll have to deal with these Vapors.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem