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#30 An ancient forest
on Monte Serra d'Estrella near Petropolis,
province of Rio de
Janeiro.
Latin translation by
Ben Hennelly
"Pan is sleeping" (1):
thus the Greeks would speak with the charm of their spirit and the truthfulness
of their perception, when at midday the whole of nature, as if the movements
of life have been suspended, grows silent and seems to slip back wearily
into itself, to be hidden in itself. The one who passes this idle time
of nature with open heart, apart and alone, indulging his nature, will
understand well what the Greek meant. That great cycle, by which every
created thing revolves round its creator, is at that time revealed to
one's spirit, and by some more sublime impetus raises up what he perceives
and turns in his mind to the highest thoughts, which already Seneca
professed in words truly Christian: "God, the governor of the universe,
does indeed reach out to external things, but nonetheless into the whole
from all directions returns into himself." (2)
But you would be moved in a different way if you were to sit at midday
in open fields or ploughed land full of happily thriving crops, than
if the hidden shade of the remote forest had taken you in. It is in
the fields that the omnipotent ruler throughout the whole of nature,
Pan himself, vigorously, calmly, temperately, and generously acts and
gives life.
One's eyes traverse those flourishing fields or lands sown zealously
by mortals in sure expectation of fertility. Throughout these plains,
silence holds through nearly all the day, even when at first light,
fresh life rises with the morning. To be sure, larks sing, bees hum,
cicadas sing, and the crops, rustled by the gentle breeze, murmur. Yet
nonetheless the middle of the day does not grow much quieter.
On the contrary, in the forests Pan is not only that force of nature
which calmly stirs and benevolently protects, but he is also that god
who loves the Muses, who invented the "syrinx pipe" (3),
who competed with Apollo; here he leads a tumultuous parade with his
wanton band of Satyrs, here are "the rustic divinities: the Nymphs,
the Fauni, the Satyrs, and the mountain-dwelling Silvani." (4) The woods resound with the voice and song of birds, the bellowing of
wild animals, the rustling of foliage, and the breaking and creaking
of trees which the force of the winds shakes even in the remotest recess
of the valleys.
Here life is more brisk, here the desires move with greater power, here
the forces that incite living beings are stronger. The lofty figures
of trees fighting, as it were, for position, the thick grouping of shrubs,
the tangle of vines, and the throng of parasites display the license
of individual beings who demonstrate their desire.
 
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