Melancholy Revisited

(Durer's Melancholia)

Αλήθεια, ποια είναι η γνώμη σας για τη μελαγχολία; Θεωρώ ότι είναι το πιο όμορφο συναίσθημα με διαφορά... έχει να σου πει άπειρα πράγματα και να σε βάλει σε αμέτρητες σκέψεις... κυρίως όμως, όσο πιο έντονα και συχνά το βιώνω, κάθε φορά μου πιστοποιεί, με μια γλυκία παραδοξότητα, κάτι πολύ σημαντικό... ότι ζω τη ζώη μου και μάλιστα όμορφα... και αυτό δεν είναι που μετράει πάνω απ' όλα...;

NO, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kist
By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globèd peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.

She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

(John Keats, Ode on Melancholy)