Reading Wagner's venetian diary, I fall in tears recognising his painful tension to what he calls the Ideal, his compassionate despise of everything that is out of this falling movement of the daimon towards the skies..giving up the fullfillment of desire (could it be anyway anyhow be fullfilled?) , renouncing to the solution..the same disruptive emotion I felt assisting at his "Flying dutchman" , the salvation of man and woman being essentially their tragic destiny, realising their lives only into the death..that is as to say: the World, to which the poet has to consign his Art..
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