Uma nova decepção
O mito, entretanto, como se sabe, é forte. Centenas de jovens ocidentais escalam todos anos os degraus elevados da Cordilheira do Himalaia, querendo ir ali beber algum dia nos sinuosos riachos e nas fontes puras daquela cidade mágica, respirando os ares sagrados do rio Alph. Mas, de repente, outra decepção.
No Reino do Nepal, justo na terra do honorável Buda, vizinho da mítica Xanadu, o desvairado princípe Dipendra chacinou, no dia 1º de julho, a sua própria família: o rei Birendra, a rainha Aishwarya, e mais seis outros integrantes da dinastia. Para ele, as drogas não o transportaram para o mundo do maravilhoso, e sim para a obscura profundeza do ódio homicida. Desta forma, a maravilhosa Xanadu (não muito longe de Katmandu, a capital do Nepal), onde beber leite - uma metáfora poética da droga - levava ao paraíso, desfez-se nos sonhos universais. Nem lá, tão perto dos deuses, o maligno deixa de estar entre os humanos.
A família real do Nepal, todos mortos
Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1797-8)
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan dome
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And herde were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots greenery.
But oh! That deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A dmasel with a dulcimer a vision once I saw :
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with, music loud and long
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! Those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.