Thursday, January 24, 2008

Chorus - Wisdom's Happiness

Shall I ever in nightlong dances
Shake my fairwhite foot
in Bacchus' madness, tossing my
Hair to the nightwind of heav'n?
Like a fawn frolicking races
through green meadow pastures
When it flies fearful the
Hunt, away from the watchers
and their well-woven schemes.

As the hunter's cry quickens the
Hounds raging gallop, it takes off like a
shot with fleet-footed efforts,

Along th'edge of the river, en-
joying the lonely wilderness
and forest's shade of leaves.

What is it to be wise? And what gift of the
Immortals is more gracious in humans?
Is it holding your hand over
Your enemies’ head?
What's right is always welcome.

Th'heavens might is scarcely set in
Motion, but it is not to be
doubted, a beacon to humans;
And those who honour reckless-
ness practice, not the teachings of
God, but the reasonings of madmen.
And they, hidden in chains of
Darkness by time's echoing footstep,
hunt their own wickedness, for you must never

Never place yourself above or b'yond the law.
Less than nothing, then, to believe
that having strength is this.
But that which is divine & holy,
the weight of established tradition,
this is in nature grounded.
What is being wise? And what gift of the
Gods is more gracious in mortals?
Is it to hold your hand over
Your enemy’s head?
What's right is always welcome.

Blessed is the one who's fled the
Storm at sea and come to harbour;
And happy is he who rises above
Hardships; for one may sur-
Pass another in wealth or in power,
But these are a lot hopes to a lot of
Different people; and many end in
Happiness while others fail mis’rably
But the one who's happy day-to-day,
Is the one who's truly blessed.

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