The bard is blind for having seen the Goddess of Beauty bathe naked. Many are the names of Tiresias. The Argentine bard Jorge Luis Borges had a vision in light of his intimate blindness.
Legend has it that when the battle of Contarf ended, that feast of crows in which the Norwegians were defeated, the Great King of Ireland quickly called his court poet, repeating what the kings of Mycenae once did. He asked him to compose a song of victory and greatness, as if both things went together, as if war could make someone great. He gave him a year to compose it and some gold, some say a rare ring on which was inscribed the name of an old dragon.
When the year completed its journey, the poet presented an extensive panegyric full of great literary figures, a dazzling manifesto in which the sword was called “oar of battle” and “helm of justice.” He recited it with the confidence of someone who masters his craft, without looking at the manuscript and with a hypnotic rhythm from beginning to end. The king remained pensive and lost in a distant nostalgia. Afterwards he praised him and gave him a silver mirror for his efforts. “Terror does not live in your beautiful poem, nor does anger reveal its black poison in the spears. In your mirror, the battle has not been reflected.” The king requested a new ode.
When the year came to an end, the poet returned, emaciated, thin and ill. The new ode was presented with less confidence; the poet read it hesitantly and unsure. It was not a description of the battle: blood and fear were splashed in those words. The king was pleased and gave the poet a gold mask. “Dear friend,” said the king, “you have brought the battle to this Halls, but I have not seen you and me in its heat,” and he commissioned a third poem.
When the poet returned a year later, the palace guards mistook him for a beggar and prevented him from entering. Finally, someone recognized him and brought him to the king. With a broken voice, the poet told the king that he wished that Christ Our Lord had prevented him from writing the third poem. He didn't dare repeat it. Finally, at the king's urging, he whispered the poem in his ear. It consisted of only one line. The king was as overwhelmed when he heard it as the bard was when he composed it. The king stammered that he and the poet now shared the sin of having known Beauty, which is a gift forbidden to men. To atone, the king gave the bard a dagger. The poet committed suicide upon leaving the palace and the king abandoned the throne and became a beggar, and wandered through the cold Ireland - which was his kingdom - until God gave him his final rest.
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