Here is the first two sections of the poem by Renzo Novatore.
“I strike you without anger or hatred, like a butcher, like Moses struck the rock!”
Oh, good “Goliard”, come—come to me!
Come and listen to the sublime verses of my perverse, cursed lyre. Come and listen to the laughter of my melancholy…
What are you afraid of? What are you afraid of ?
Could you be afraid of the livid, yellow fires of my sulfurous hells?
Could you be afraid of the mysterious winds of my symbolic peaks?
Don’t you understand me?
“Couldn’t I be a false chord in the divine symphony, thanks to the consuming irony that shakes and bites me?”
But you, who are you?
Could you be some spectacled professor who still has old polemical-theoretical accounts to settle with me?
But let it go, oh Goliard, let go of ancient regrets and old torments that trouble your heart. Today is my spiritual Easter feast, my table is set…
So come—oh Goliard—to my table, drink and be quiet!
I am a “well of truth, black and shining, where the livid star, the ironic, hellish beacon, the torch of satanic charm, sole glory and comfort—the awareness in evil—flickers!”
But you—who are you?
“Lucky for them, the workers don’t know Baudelaire.” What did you say? Is that how it is, true Goliard? “Long live ignorance and Anarchy. Death to intellectuality, Thought and Art.” Is this what you mean, true Goliard?
But doesn’t “Goliard” signify the rebellious and dissolute student of the Middle Ages?
Ah, poor, grotesque parody!
Oh! pity… pity!
Click here to read the rest of Renzo Novatore’s poem and his other works!