Chapter 23 twenty one

Martin.Cylenus had been working on his epic all afternoon, and didn't let him pause until dark. He discovers that his former studio has been looted and the antique desk is gone.Sad King Billy's palace was the worst shame of time, all the windows were broken, the little sand dunes were blown over the faded carpets that used to be priceless, and mice and small rock eels lived among the rubble.The towers of the chambers now house the doves and the falcons which are also wild birds.At last the poet returned to the common hall with its great dome, and there, in the dining-room, sat at a low table to write.

Dust and debris covered the tiled floor, and the scarlet of the desert vines completely blotted out the shattered glass windows above, but Melennos ignored these irrelevant matters and wrote his Psalms. The theme of the first poem is to describe the Titans ⑤ who were forced to death and abdicate by their descendant Greek gods.Speaking of the Titans' refusal to back down, the ensuing battles of those Olympus gods, the sea gods and Neptune's battles made the seas boil, Hyperion's struggle with Apollo for control of the light Many suns were wiped out, and the whole universe was shaken by Shaten's and Jupiter's competition for the throne of the gods.The point is not just the process of one set of gods being replaced by another, but the end of a golden age followed by a dark age that spells doom for all mortals.

⑤Taiyuan (Titans) The children of heaven and earth in Greek mythology, known as the old gods, have dominated the universe for many years. They are huge in size and amazing in strength. The most important god is Kronas, also known as Shaten, who rules other Titans. He was overthrown by his son Zeus.According to Roman mythology, after Zeus seized power, Shaten fled to Italy. Under his rule, it brought a golden age of peace and happiness. 6 Peter Zhu: Zeus. "Hyperion Psalms" makes no secret of what those gods are insinuating: the Titans are easily known to be the heroes of mankind in the short history of the galaxy, and the opponents from Olympus are the intelligence-core AI, and they The battlefield of the world extends to the continents, seas, and skies that are mostly familiar to the world in Wanxingwang. Among them, the terrible monster Pluto Desi, who is also the son of Shaten, is eager to inherit the entire kingdom with Zhu Peter, and quietly approaches Prey, taking in gods and mortals alike.

The Psalms are also about the relationship between creation and creator, between parent and child, between artists and their art, between creators and their work, a poem of devotion and fidelity, but because it is often mentioned Hunger for power, human ambition, and intellectual arrogance teetering on the verge of nihilism. Martin.The Psalms of Cylenus have been written over two centuries in standard time.His finest compositions are set in these settings, ruined cities, with desert winds behind them, the somber chants of a Greek tragedy chorus, and the ever-present threat of the thorn god.In order to save his own life, Cylenus decided to go away, abandoning his muse, and silenced his pen.Now to start writing again, on the path he was sure of, the perfect circuit only a writer with inspiration can experience, Martin.Cylenos felt himself alive again, his blood was flowing, his lung capacity was greatly increased, he tasted the rich light and pure air without knowing it, and enjoyed every stroke of the antique pen on the parchment, a pile of previously completed The pages of paper are stacked around the round low table, and the broken bricks and tiles are used as paperweights. The storyline is natural and smooth, and every section and line is an immortal work.

Cylenus writes the most difficult and exciting parts of the poem, in those scenes where the conflict stretches over a thousand places and entire civilizations fall into ruins, the representatives of the Titans call a timeout, and Orin Paz's humorless heroes meet to negotiate.On the vast territory he imagined, came Saten, Hyperion, Cortos, Iapites, Oceanus, Briareus, Enceladus, Mimus, Porphyrion, Luitas, and the others, with their sisters Theiss, Phoebe, Theia, and Cremene, who were also giants, faced the sullen Jupiter, Apollo, and their group. ⑦Hyperion: the son of the god of heaven and the goddess of the earth, the father of the sun god; Cottus: one of the three giants with a hundred hands; Lapetus: Atlas who shoulders the world The father of two brothers, Prometheus, who stole fire and rescued mankind; Oceanus: the god of the ocean; Briareus: one of the three giants with a hundred hands; Enceladus: a hundred-handed The arm giant, who fought against the gods, was killed by Zeus and buried under the Mount Aina in Sicily; Mimus: the mermaid god of the sea; Porphyrion: one of the giants, in the battle with the gods During the battle, he tried to ravage Hera, the wife of Zeus, but was struck by lightning from Zeus, and Hercules, the strongest Hercules in the world, shot her to death with an arrow; Rhoetus: not a character in Greek mythology, but A character in the fifth volume of the famous long poem "Metamorphosis" by the ancient Roman poet Ovid; Tethys: daughter of the gods, wife of the Ocean family; Phoebe: goddess of the moon; Theia ( Theia): Wife of Hyperion, mother of the sun god; Clymene: daughter of Ocean, mother of Atlas and Prometheus.

Cylenus does not know how the poem turns out.He's now living just to finish telling the story and has been doing it for decades.The youthful dream of learning to write and pursuing fame and fortune is long gone. He did get fame and fortune beyond measure, but it cost him his life, and it really killed his art. For a good literary work, he just wants to finish it, let himself know the result, and write every stanza, line, and word in the most delicate, clear and beautiful form possible. Now he writes feverishly, almost insane with his desire to do what he long thought was impossible.Words flow from his antique pen to the parchment, also antique: stanza after stanza leaps effortlessly, passages find their voice, complete themselves without revision, without pausing for inspiration, the long poem Unfolding at a shocking speed, the words and images surprisingly present a beauty that stops one's heartbeat.

Under their banner of truce, Satten and his counterpart Peter Zhu sat face to face on either side of a negotiating table made of neatly cut marble. Their conversation was both epic and simple. Debate, creating the most exciting debate since the "Dialogue of Milos" by Dusitides ⑧.Suddenly, something completely new, something Martin.What Cylenus did not think of in all his hours of uninspired musing, enters into the poem, and the kings of the gods express fear of a third rival, fear of a dreadful alien threat to the stability of their respective regimes.Cylenus watched in amazement at the characters he had spent thousands of hours creating, against his wishes, shaking hands at the marble negotiating table and fighting together

⑧Thecydides (Thecydides): A Greek historian in the second half of the fifth century BC. His famous book "History of the Peloponnesian War" describes the period between Athens and Sparta between 431 and 404 BC. The War, is the first work ever written to analyze a nation's war policy in terms of politics and morality. What to resist? The poet stopped, the pen stopped, and then he realized that he could hardly see the paper. He had been writing in the semi-darkness for a long time, and now the darkness completely enveloped him. Cylenus came to his senses as he let the world rush back again, like sanity after an orgasm.It's just that the writer's return to the world is much more painful, and Jungo's cloud quickly disintegrates into mundane chores.

Cylenus looked around, the huge dining room was quite dark, only a little starlight and the light of a distant explosion reflected through the glass above his head and the ivy.The tables around him were just black shadows, and the walls thirty meters away on all sides were even darker shadows, with desert vines as black as varicose veins intertwined in front.Outside the great dining room, the night wind blew louder and louder, creaking from the crooked rafters and chinks overhead, like alto and soprano singing solo. The poet sighed.There was no flashlight in his backpack.He took nothing but water and his Psalms.He was hungry, damn Brown.Where is Lamia?But as soon as he thought of this, he realized that he was actually very glad that the woman didn't come back to him.He needs to be alone to finish that poem. At the current pace, it will probably take less than a day, maybe this evening will be enough.In a few more hours he would have finished his life's work, could rest and enjoy the little things of everyday life that for decades now seemed just a distraction from his incomplete work.

Martin.Cylenus sighed again, and began to put the manuscript into his backpack.Where would he find the light, even if it was to start a fire with Sad King Billy's old tapestry.If necessary, he could even go outside and write in the light of space warfare. Selenus took the last few pages and his pen in his hand and turned to look for an exit. Something stood with him in the darkness of the hall. It's Lamia, he thought, disappointment and relief fighting in his heart. But that wasn't Brown.Ramia.Cylenos noticed the distorted image, the upper body was huge, the lower legs were too long, the starlight reflected on the carapace and spines, and there were shadows of the arms under the arms, especially where the eyes should be, but it was like hell The crystal ignited by the fire glowed like a ruby.

Cylenus let out a groan and sat down again.Don't come now!He cried: Go away, your damned eyes! The tall shadow moved closer, making no sound on the cold brick floor.The sky surged with blood-red energy, and now the bard could see spikes and blades, and tangles of razor wire. don't want!Martin.Sailenus cried: I refuse, don't come to me. Jing Demon God came closer.Selenus's hand was convulsed, he took up his pen again, and wrote in the space at the bottom of the last page: It's time, Martin. He stared at what he had written, holding back a frenzied titter.As far as he knew, Demon God Jing had never spoken or communicated with anyone.Only through that paired medium: pain and death.don't want!He screamed again: I've got work to do, go find someone else, fuck you! Jing Demon God took another step forward.Silent explosions flashed in the sky, and yellow and red streamed down the thorn demon god's chest and arms like splashes of paint.Martin.Selenus's hand spasmed, and he wrote on the previous line: Now is the time, Martin. Cerenus folded his hands to his chest, took the last page off the table so that he could not write on it, and bared his teeth and hissed at the monster. Are you ready to switch places with your patron, his hand wrote on the table. Not now, cried the poet: Billy is dead!Let me finish first, please!Throughout his long life, Martin.Cylenos never begged for anything4.He is begging now, please, oh, please, please let me finish the poem. The Jing Demon God took a step forward, so close that the deformed upper body blocked the starlight, leaving the poet in the shadows. Don't write, Martin.Thelenus' hand, and then his pen, fell.Jing Demon God stretched out his incomparably extended arms and incomparably sharp fingers, piercing into the poet's arms, deep to the bone marrow. Martin.Selenos screamed and was pulled out of the dome of the restaurant.He screamed, saw the dunes beneath his feet, heard sand slide beneath his own screams, saw trees sticking out of the valley. The tree was larger than the valley, and taller than all the peaks over which the pilgrims had crossed; its upper branches seemed to reach into space.It was a tree of steel and chrome, its branches full of thorns and needles, and thousands of humans struggled and writhed on those thorns.Amidst the red glow of the dying sky, Cylenus fought back the pain and concentrated to discover what he recognized.Those were bodies, not souls or other abstractions, and they were clearly suffering the throes of a miserable life. It is necessary, Cylenus' hand wrote on the icy chest of the Thorn Demon God.Blood dripped on quicksilver and sand. don't want!screamed the poet as he punched blades and razor wires.He tugged and struggled and twisted, and the monster held him closer, pulled him toward the blades, as if he were a taxidermy butterfly, a taxidermy to be nailed.Jean Martin.It wasn't the unimaginable pain that made Cylenus mad, but the irreparable loss, and he nearly finished the poem.He just barely finished it! don't want!Martin.Selenos screamed, struggling even more frantically, filling the air with a final spray of blood and shrill curses.Jing Demon God led him to the waiting tree. In the dead city the screams echoed for another minute, smaller and farther away.Then there was a dead silence broken only by the slight flutter of wings of the returning pigeons as they flew into the shattered domes and towers. The wind picked up, shaking loose Plexiglas and tiles, sweeping dead leaves across dry fountains, finding entrances through cracks in the broken glass of the dome, and whipping up the manuscripts in a gentle whirlwind.Only a few pages escaped without being blown through silent courtyards and empty walkways and collapsing ditches. After a while, the wind stopped, and then there was no movement in the city of poets.