Chapter 9 Goddess of Love - Venus

Once, returning from a date with my sweetheart, I was walking down a garden path leading to the house.Then suddenly I saw—looking through the green corridor of trees—that I saw a female figure, white and stone like, shining in the moonlight.I felt as though this beautiful marble woman was taking pity on me, and she came to her senses and followed me.But then I was gripped by a nameless dread, and my heart began to pound, instead— Ah, what a coward I am.I stopped, as usual, in the second quarter of my life, where adventure was required.No!completely opposite!I didn't stop.I ran away as fast as I could.

What luck!A Jew in the photographic business managed to get me a portrait of my lover: the figure on paper was a copy of Titian's Venus in the Mirror.What a woman!I want to write her a poem.No!I wrote on the painting: . You have aroused my passion, but you are still cold.Wrap in your fur coat of despotism; and if it does not suit you, who does it suit, my cruel goddess, my fair lover? ! After a while, I added some lines from Goethe, which I recently found in the Supplement to Faust: To Cupid His arrows are but claws, His wings are lies, His horn, hidden under the corolla, I guess,

Like the gods of ancient Greece, He is a demon in disguise. I put the drawing on the table in front of me, leaning against a book, studying it. I was both happy and scared.This grim, stern, marble-faced woman, her charms peeking out from the sable coat, flaunted her coquettish coolly. I picked up the quill again.wrote: "To the lover, to the beloved - what a blessing! When you adore a woman who plays with you, when you are the slave of a beautiful tyrant who crushes you mercilessly,你的快乐就慢慢变淡了。即使是英雄萨姆森，他也曾经爱上过背叛他的黛利拉。黛利拉再次背叛了他，菲利斯人在她的面前揍他，挖Rolling out his eyeballs. Drunk with anger and love, he clings to this female rebel to the end of his life."

I ate breakfast on the balcony and read Judith, envious of the hero Holofernes, who was beheaded by his queenly mistress and whose death had a gory beauty. "God punished him by delivering him into the hands of a woman." This sentence moved me. How inarticulate these Jews are.Their god - when it comes to good sex, there are better words to choose. "God punished him by giving him into the hands of a woman," I repeated.Oh, what can I do to make him punish me? For God's sake!Our landlady is here.After one night she became smaller again.Among the green vines, a white robe reappeared.Is it Venus or the widow?

This time it was the widow, because Madame Tartakovsky was curtseying.It was great that the widow actually said she wanted to borrow some books from me to read.I rushed into the room, pulled out the volumes I had put together, and handed them to her. I remembered—too late—that my picture of Venus was in one of those books.Now, this woman stands there, and she will see my passion surging. What will she say? I heard her laughing. Is she laughing at me? A full moon!A full moon loomed over the low firs that bordered the garden.A silvery mist hung over balconies, overgrown trees, as far as the eye could see.The mist makes the distance appear as indistinct as rippling water.

I can't resist such a temptation.Something is calling me, urging me strangely.I put on my clothes again and walked into the garden. I was drawn to the grass, to her, my goddess, my love. It's a cool night.I tremble.There is a strong scent of flowers and trees in the air.It's intoxicating. What's going on in my head!Music is all around.The nightingale was sobbing.The stars shone in the blue twilight, giving off a faint gleam.The grass shone in the moonlight, like a mirror, and like ice on a pond. The statue of Venus is solemn and shining. However—what is that? A long black fur coat fell from marbled shoulders to the soles of her feet—I stood there stiffly, yawning at her, and slipped away, again, overwhelmed by inexplicable anxiety.

I quicken my pace.At this moment, I found myself lost, and just as I was about to turn into a green path, in front of me, on a stone bench, sat Venus, a beautiful stone statue-like beauty-no, really The goddess of love, the goddess of love with blood and pulse.Yes, she came to me alive, like a statue suddenly began to breathe.Indeed, only half of the miracle came true: her white hair shone like stone, and her white robe shone like moonlight (or satin?).A black fur coat hangs down from his shoulders.But her lips were red, her cheeks were blood, and her eyes shot two green demonic arrows at me—and then she laughed.

She laughed so strangely that--oh, it's indescribable, she took my breath away!I kept running, stopping every few yards to catch my breath, and the ironic laughter followed me along the dim gazebo path, across the bright lawn, into the moon-sparse darkness.I couldn't find my way, I was wandering around, cold sweat was streaming down my brow. Finally I stopped and recited a monologue. She was gone--a person who was either charming or vulgar. I scolded myself: "Idiot!" The word is magical and has helped me a lot.I relax myself and the feeling comes back. I calm down immediately.

In a fit of ecstasy, I repeated, "Fool!" Now I can see clearly and sharply again: here is the spring, there are boxwoods on both sides of the path, and there is the house, and I trudge slowly toward it. The moonlight shone on the green plants, as if they were embroidered with silver embroidery.Suddenly, I saw a white figure behind the green plants. I adore, I fear, a beautiful woman like a stone statue that I want to escape is there. I jumped into the room a few times, panting, and meditating. What is the matter with me now: a shallow person, or a great fool?