...........................In nomine patris et fili et spiritus sancti. Amen........................

Letter for Nero

24. února 2008 v 16:36 | Pepcha |  Jednorázovky a songfictions
Pepinka není magor, vůůůbec. Jenom už zase musela psát "zapomínací" esej na angličtinu a ... no... ono to vlastně vypadalo jako docela obyčejné a nudné téma, jenže Pepinka je člověk kreativní, a tak se z dopisu prezidentovi vyklubala povídka o Petroniově smrti. No já za to nemůžu, to ty geny.
Takže: v angličtině, s chybami (ještě jsem to nekontrolovala) a takové... inu zvláštní. Každopádně si to koukejte přečíst a okomentovat, zlatíčka, jasné?
Forever and ever your Muriel

Mid-age man sat on a chair next to the table. He smiled a little bit tired, but like he knew something, we didn´t. He remembered the soldier, who brought him a letter from caesar today. He stammered, when he should tell him the decision of Imperator. Petronius was known all over the people of Rome as a patrician, who was sometimes able and ready to help the others and that he didn´t hide his opinions about the current society. The soldier felt embrassed, when he should tell him, that he´s under the military controll and caesar wants him to commit suicide.
That batalos Tigellinus, all was his fault - he persuaded Nero to The Public Lighting (? - Veřejné osvělení) and now he suggested him, that Petronius participated in the Piso´s conspiracy (by the way - it wasn´t true). But all the truth? Tigellinus was only jealous to Petronius, because he was more intelligent, prompt and cognizant of poems, songs and art - things, that caesar Nero loved and this was the most easy way to eliminate him.´
Petronius snorted. They weren´t such intelligent to understand, that he´s even more dangerous in their cage. They weren´t such intelligent to interdict him to throw a dinner with his "friends" or to write a letter for farewell. And they will regret it... He took a pen and ink.
+++++
The guests were fascinated by this great occasion and all did accept. They knew, in which kind of situation Petronius is and they were curious, what´s all this about.
So they came and all were captive by only one sight of representation, which Petronius has made them. The marble gleamed light of candles fixed around a grand hall. Flowers were laying everywhere and doing a great atmosphere - light and charming; each seat had one flower laying on it - and more importantly they all harmonized with hairs of each guest, because Petronius has adjudicated a seat for everyone.
A host himself wasn´t with guests still, he wanted to prepare himself completly for own death and the last presentation in society of Nero´s Rome. The night sky was so indigo today. Sky, which was glittering with stars and most especialy with the winter Sirius. Goodbye, my beautiful friends! He grabbed The letter and left his study.
The guests were agitated by the absence of Arbiter Elegantiarum, also because they couldn´t completely start the dinner.
"Seriously - were is he?!" asked one devorcee her neighbour just before the door opened and the host came with gracility peculiar to himself.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, my dear friends, I hope, you weren´t bored without me," he smiled and in the same moment he sat on the couch and put his ivory cane away. "So let´s start." Petronius clapped his hands and everything started to move. So delicious meal prepared with so much sense most of them have never seen.
Petronius started conversation with Marcia Silia, his bosom friend, who was lieing next to him. He bavared others with funny stories and he let guests to read some their (a little bit vulgar) poems. He criticized, he laughed, he seemed be happy.
After some time he called one of his servants.
"The razor, Asklepius, and these bandages," he said and - as nothing had happened - he cut to his wrist. His own red blood trickled on his own white toga. Petronius quickly dressed the wirst.
"Don´t worry, my friends, I can´t die yet. There´s something, I have to read you before I die." Most people looked curious and someone like he knew, what´s this paper, which Petronius wanted to read them. But they were wrong.
"Tell us, Arbiter! Tell us! What´s it? Is it the last chapter of Satiricon?"
"No, it´s not the last piece of Satiricon. This one read only one person and it´ll stay like that forever. No. This is a letter. Letter for our beloved ceasar." People, who really knew him could say, that he had a very strange and suspicious smile on his face...
"I don´t care if you wanna listen me and hear the full content of it, or if you´re scared by this. ´Cause I can promise, that nobody´ll know, that you heard it. So, let´s begin."
"My dearest friend, my dearest imperator, my Lucius Domitius -" everybody struggled for air, because everybody knew, which only kind of destiny is there for these ones, who ever call ceasar this name.
"- I´m writing this last letter with the terrible cognizance, that after me, you, my dearest friend, will be among only by hummerheads, who will never tell you the pitiful truth. I´m writing it with the terrible congnizance, that it´s my duty to inform you about the truth of my death, about my joy of it and a little bit also about youself, my sweet Lucius Domitius.
I think, there´s no other way, than tell you, that I wasn´t "The Only One, Who Never Lies You". I lied. I hid before you not so many things as the others, because I was able to dress the awful and unpleasing truth into the coat of blarney.
D´you wanna know, what´s this joy of own death? No, You´ll not like it:
I´m happy, because I´ll never have to hear your songs again. A corpse can´t hear anything, d´you know? No, not your incisive voice, which is even worse with the metre of a beginner.
I´m happy, because I´ll never see you dancing on your weak legs again.
I´m happy, because I won´t see your unaesthetic cruelty.
Murder, but with charm, which one your poems really haven´t.
Burn, but don´t destroy fragile beauty of silence with your voice.
Break legs of your oponents and not boards.
Do, what you want, my friend, but don´t punish sensibils of beauty.
Your devotee
Gaius Titus Petronius Niger Arbiter Elegantiarum
Post Scriptum: And the other pergamen will give your Bill."
The hall guietened, nobody wanted to speak. Somebody laughed nervously.
"Petronius, are you sure, that you want -?"
"Of course, and you haven´t hear the better piece of that - the Bill," said relaxed Petronius. Some people looked curious again.
"What does it mean, the Bill?"
"Oh... With a big help of my dear Silia I´ve made a list of all vices of our dear ceasar," he paused and suspiciously looked all over these faces. "But I don´t know, if I can read you this. It could be too much for you..." The reaction was exactly the same as he wanted and presumed - everybody persuaded him. Guests looked a little bit shoked by the number ant the exact details of each case and Nero´s lover. Petronius ended and turned to Silia, while the others were talking about these new informations.
"I think, I have to thank you, Silia, but I´m scared by you. Nero can discover, how I´ve got all these stories."
"Don´t worry. I´ll be O.K. And if not... I haven´t a reason to live anyway."
"Don´t say things like this, it´s not true. You have still Akté. And now, goodbye."
"Good drems, to you..."
And Petronius carry down badages and fell asleep...
The first novelist in the world just died, but he´ll inspirate many writers in the future.
Goodbye.
The end
 

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Komentáře

1 kittie kittie | 31. května 2008 v 23:03 | Reagovat

The first novelist in the world just died *zoufale vzlyká* Proč musí vždycky umřít? Proč? Proč nemůže někdy žít šťastně až do smrti? *uvědomuje si, že plácá nesmysly* Proč? Chjo.

*miluje Pepinku*

*miluje Petronia*

*miluje Bootha*

*miluje Sheppyho*

*nechce, aby zase umřel!!!!!!!!!*

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