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melancholia

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BALLAD FOR GLOOM, EZRA POUND

For God, our God is a gallant foe
That playeth behind the veil.

I have loved my God as a child at heart
That seeketh deep bosoms for rest,
I have loved my God as a maid to man—
But lo, this thing is best:

To love your God as a gallant foe that plays behind the veil;
To meet your God as the night winds meet beyond Arcturus’ pale.

I have played with God for a woman,
I have staked with my God for truth,
I have lost to my God as a man, clear-eyed—
His dice be not of ruth.

For I am made as a naked blade,
But hear ye this thing in sooth:

Who loseth to God as man to man
Shall win at the turn of the game.
I have drawn my blade where the lightnings meet
But the ending is the same:
Who loseth to God as the sword blades lose
Shall win at the end of the game.

For God, our God is a gallant foe that playeth behind the veil.
Whom God deigns not to overthrow hath need of triple mail.

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When, when we were young
We had no history
So nothing to lose
Meant we could choose
Choose what we wanted then
Without any fear
Or thought of revenge
But then you grew old
And I lost my ambition
So I gained an addiction
To drink and depression
(they are mine
My only true friends
And I’ll keep them with me
Until the very end)
I’d choose not to remember
But I miss your arrogance
And I need your intelligence
And your hate for authority
But now you’re gone
I read it today
They found you in spain
Face down in the street
With a bottle in your hand
And a wild smile on your face
And a knife in your back
You died in a foreign land
And they found my letter
Rolled up in your pocket
Where I said I’d kill myself
If she left me again
So now she’s gone
And you’re both in my mind
I’ve got one thing to say
Before I am drunk again:
God damn the sun
God damn the sun
God damn anyone
That says a kind word
God damn the sun
God damn the sun
God damn the light it shines
And this world it shows
God damn the sun

SUN    SUN    SUN 

DIALOGUE MELANCHOLIA

Justine: The earth is evil. We don’t need to grieve for it.
Claire: What?
Justine: Nobody will miss it.
Claire: But where would Leo grow?
Justine: All I know is, life on earth is evil.
Claire: Then maybe life somewhere else.
Justine: But there isn’t.
Claire: How do you know?
Justine: Because I know things.
Claire: Oh yes, you always imagined you did.
Justine: I know we’re alone.
Claire: I don’t think you know that at all.
Justine: 678. The bean lottery. Nobody guessed the amount of beans in the bottle.
Claire: No, that’s right.
Justine: But I know. 678.
Claire: Well, perhaps. But what does that prove?
Justine: That I know things. And when I say we’re alone, we’re alone. Life is only on earth, and not for long.

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FAILURE, MICHAEL GIRA

I, I’ve been lonely
And I, I’ve been blind
And I,. I’ve learned nothing
So my hands are firmly tied
To the sinking leadweight
of failure

I’ve worked hard all my life
Money slips through my hands
My face in the mirror tells me
It’s no surprise that I’m
Pushing the stone up the hill
of failure

They tempt me with violence
They punish me with ideals
And they crush me with an image of my
life that’s nothing but unreal
Except on the goddamned slaveship
of failure

I’ll drown here trying
to get up for some air
But each time I think I breathe
I’m laid on with a double share
of the punishing burden
of failure

I don’t deserve to be down here
But I’ll never leave
And I’ve learned one thing
You can’t escape the beast
In the null and void pit
of failure

When I get my hands on some money
I’ll kiss it’s green skin
And I’ll ask it’s dirty face
“Where the hell have you been?”
“I am the fuel that fires the engine
of failure.”

I’ll be old and broken down
I’ll forget who and where I am
I’ll be senile or forgotten
But I’ll remember and understand
You can bank your hard-earned money
on failure

I saw my father crying
I saw my mother break her hand
On a wall that wouldn’t weep
But that certainly held in
The mechanical moans of a dying man
Who was a failure

My back hurts me when I bend
Because I carry a load
My brain hurts me like a knife-hole
Because I’ve yet to be shown
How to pull myself out from
The sucking quicksand
of failure

Some people lie in hell
Many bastards succeed
But I. I’ve learned nothing
I can’t even elegantly bleed
Out the poison blood
of failure

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MELANCHOLIA, CLOSING SCENE

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