Francis Galton asks himself, ‘of what a pretty face is made! ’
Two scientists from Texas University agree and state that:
Darwin’s cousin is right; beauty is a lab combining recipes.
You select photos of good quality from two hundred women,
and fabricate a desired face, brows of one, chins of another.
What colour should apply for the point psi of her face? Apply
chromatic grade three, average of the extremes one and five.
For the beauty, Wilde, you better entrust our own portrait,
grey, the median of black and white, a pot instead of flower.
Then Homer, said to be a blind poet, becomes furious,
enters their photo lab, disrupts electricity and water provision.
‘For centuries I paint beauty without brush’, shouts on them
“you short-sighted, why Greeks admired Helen of all women?
though I never described her? I donated imagination to paint!
Her glance is a rainbow of numerous colours, a daydream,
her hair is a waterfall of honey on her breasts, do taste it,
her divine body, is Praxiteles' smooth motion, touch upon it,
her grace, is a nocturnal music of Mozart, approach and listen,
her cheek, is a flower of Edem, for bees of Texas, do smell it.’’
A diamond engraves wrinkles of wisdom in her brain,
the rivers of veins allow the lava flow out of the heart,
a crevice in the pomegranate of her soul to generate;
look up to her: the Beauty emerges from fires and shades.
Poetry, you liberate me; I look into vision without seeing,
I fall in love, with unspeakable myth and unmixed wine,
I create the Unknown Beauty for all times, as I imagine her.
© JosephJosephides
Joseph S. Josephides
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-unknown-beauty/
