Artist, by J. W. Cassandra

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by J. W. Cassandra

„I am an artist! I go on the stage before the eyes of everybody, every evening. The eyes of the world are layed upon me!”

„What is the use of it to you? If you go on the stage in the evenings, your soles will be full of thorns… If you have no mate – and why would it be, if the eyes of the world are layed upon you – and you aren’t a contortionist, who entertains ladies and gentlemen, you cannot get rid of thorns. You might as well live on the stage like a lord… If only you do not recite for every single thorn, till they go out or you do not sing them out, nothing will help you, the stage and the eyes of the world will do so the least.”

„But, I am an artist! I get roles that I can perform…”

„You camp off! In addition, you will be past your prime, since what will be remained later? The pension for artists, when you will be too old for work? If you will get it, as well, by that time your fame will be hackneyed and you will go hungry when the ladies’ and gentlemen’s eyes will have a squint on you…
What is the pension for artists enough for? It is enough for famine, for life it is but, little… Instead of an artist you became a clown, grown too old. Put the question on yourself: «For what purpose did you live?»”

„The artist dies and resuscitates every evening, he gives his soul and body to the person whom he may perform. He gives spiritual bread for the ladies and gentlemen by this manner, for human does not live by bread alone…”

„But, lacking wheat bread art goes hungry, then it will be stiff as a poker. You found yourself on the street instead of the stage – then why do you recite?”

„Because the spring comes, new spring will come yet…”

„And you will bite the grass slowly in the artist-garden… Was it worth it?”

„I took the oath on priestess of Thalia…”

„Did you take the oath and what for? Your name is even forgotten, your transformation is only a memory – what is not real, it is only a false worth… Your name was echoed then, forgotten…
Think over what did you live for!”


Written: 09/06. 2014., by J. W. Cassandra
Translated: 14/05. 2020., by J. W. Cassandra

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J. W. Cassandra

About the Author: J. W. Cassandra

I’m a teacher and a registered author either, at Artisjus as a writer and a poet in Hungary. I love forests, butterflies, flowers.

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