TEXT 1. A Tale for Young Poets

There once was a young man named John George who had grown up in a quiet pleasant town, had been quite average in most things he'd tried. When he once thought about his life thus far, he was highly disappointed, for John's one really serious desire in life was to become a great poet, and great poetry doesn’t appear in quiet and pleasant lives. John went to his mentor, a professor at a small college nearby, and explained his problem. "I want to write great poetry filled with passion, made of light and air, poetry that evokes a sense of the eternal vacuum within us all, and the eternal light within that vacuum. But nothing interesting has ever happened to me," John added.

His mentor suggested trying falling in love. "Falling in love," said John's mentor, "is one of the most interesting experiences life has to offer."

John took his mentor's advice to heart, and began looking for a girl. After a week John saw a girl sitting at the table next to his at the café, and fell in love. He introduced himself, read the girl a few of his poems, and soon the two were gazing dreamily into each other's eyes across the tabletop.

John married the girl – her name was Susan – within a month. Surprisingly, they were wonderfully happy. Susan was thrilled by John's average poetry, and impressed by his sincere determination to become a great writer. John, for his part, had never had a girl of his own before, and was deeply impressed with Susan and her breathless admiration. John was so enormously happy that he felt bound to write about it, about his enchanted life. He filled notebook after notebook with overflowing, radiant poetry – it was very happy poetry, but it was not good poetry. It was not filled with passion; it was not made of light and air; it did not arouse a sense of the eternal vacuum within us all, or of the eternal light within that vacuum.

And so John went back to his mentor, complaining that he had fallen in love, and had many things to write about, but still his poetry lacked passion, light and air, etc. "I'm so happy," explained John, "that all I can write about is how madly happy I am, and it always comes out sounding silly."

His mentor declared that what John needed was to obtain some poetic distance, and advised him to leave his wife. "That," the professor predicted, "is an excellent way to get a view on such things."

John took his mentor's advice, and left Susan. "Only for a while," he explained, "to see what it's like." Susan, who had great respect for John's artistic muse, agreed, though she was tearful and regretful at their parting, and a very excellent emotional scene took place, just the thing with which one might begin a career of passionate poetry.

John, living alone in the house he and Susan had shared, was inspired. He wrote notebook after notebook of poetry about what it was like to lose his lovely wife, and what it was like to live alone in the house they had shared. His poetry, though not yet great, got some hints of passion and pure air and light; it even made vague gestures concerning the eternal vacuum, and the eternal light.

John was enthusiastic about the quality of his work, and wrote feverishly for several weeks, until the date set for his reunion with his wife arrived. At first he found her affection and increased admiration irritating, but soon he got content with the domestic life again. The fiery muse that had filled his poetry with vitality left him, and he could only write of reunion with his lovely wife. However, John was still very happy, as he did have his wife back, and very many of his new poems had been accepted for publication.

One day Susan returned to their house after a trip to the market, and saw on the dining room table an envelope with her name on it written in John's hand. Opening it, she found a note:

Dearest Susan,

Great poetry, I have discovered, is about loss. When I lost you, when I dreamt of you every night, I wrote poetry that was almost great. Therefore, I have decided to go in search of the ultimate loss. I have lived a life filled with love and happiness; I have loved my life even more than I have loved you. I am not sure what will happen now, but if there is an afterlife, I will be the greatest poet Heaven or Hell has ever known. I will achieve in death what I could not achieve in life, because for me life was too happy to allow great poetry. I know you will understand; you have always known how important this one goal has been to me. I love you very much, and I know that you love me, and so you will obey this last thing I ask of you: please, please, do not come upstairs.

With love and apologies, John.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14