https://www.marcelloveneziani.com/articoli/per-ripararsi-dalla-storia-pavese-si-rifugio-nel-mito/
The Cloud, Ixion
The Cloud: Ixion, there is a law and we must obey it.
Ixion: The law has no power here, Nephele. Here the law is the glacier, the storm, the darkness. And when at last the weather clears and you drift softly toward the peak, it's no time then to be thinking about the law.
The Cloud: There is a law, Ixion, which didn't exist before. A stronger hand now masses the clouds.
Ixion: That hand doesn't reach here. Look, the weather's clear, and you're laughing, aren't you? And when the sky turns black and the wind howls, who cares about the hand that scatters us like rain? That was what happened in the days when there was no master. Nothing has changed up here on the mountains. We're used to all this.
The Cloud: Much has changed on the mountains. Pelion knows it. Ossa and Olympus know it. Wilder mountains know it too.
Ixion: What has changed on the mountains, Nephele?
The Cloud: Not the sun, not the rain, Ixion. Man's fate has changed. There are monsters. A limit has been imposed upon you mortals. The rain, the wind, the peak, and the clouds are no longer yours to possess. You can no longer hold them in your arms, live with them. Other hands now hold the world. There is a law, Ixion.
Ixion: What law?
The Cloud: You already know. Your fate, the limit imposed upon you—
Ixion: I hold my fate in my fist, Nephele. What has changed? Can these new masters stop me from throwing boulders for the joy of it? Or from going down to the plain and breaking an enemy's back? Are they any more terrible than fatigue and death?
The Cloud: That's not it, Ixion. You can still do all that, and more besides. But you can no longer mate with us, the nymphs of the wind, the goddesses of the earth. Destiny has changed.
Ixion: No longer? What do you mean, Nephele?
The Cloud: I mean that if you try to do what you once did, you'll do something terrible. Like a man who tries to embrace a friend and strangles him, or is strangled himself.
Ixion: I don't understand. You mean you're leaving the mountain? You're afraid of me?
The Cloud: I'll be here on the mountain, here and everywhere. But I'm out of your reach, Ixion. You're powerless against the rain and the wind. You must bow your head. That's your only salvation.
Ixion: You're afraid, Nephele.
The Cloud: Yes, I'm afraid. I've seen the mountain peaks. But I'm not afraid for myself, Ixion. I cannot suffer. I'm afraid for you—you who are only men. These mountains where you were once the masters, where you used to run, and these creatures, our children, conceived when we were both free, now tremble at a nod. We are all the slaves of a stronger hand. The Centaurs, sons of the wind and the rain, are hiding in the deep ravines. They know they are monsters.
Ixion: Who says so?
The Cloud: Don't defy that hand, Ixion. It is fate. I've seen others, more reckless than you or the Centaurs, hurl themselves from the cliff and not die. Understand me, Ixion. Death, in which your courage was defined, can be taken from you, like a blessing refused. Do you know this?
Ixion: You've told me so before. What does it matter? We'll live more intensely.
The Cloud: You can't be serious. You don't know the immortals.
Ixion: I want to know them, Nephele.
The Cloud: Ixion, you think they're presences like us, like Night, Earth, or old Pan. You're young, Ixion, but you were born under the old dispensation. For you there are no monsters, there are only friends. For you death is something that happens, like day, like night. You're one of us, Ixion. What you are is what you do, and that is all. But for them, the immortals, everything you do has a meaning that lingers. And they probe everything from far off, with their eyes, their nostrils, their lips. They are immortal and they cannot live for themselves alone. What you achieve or don't achieve, what you say, what you search for—all these things gladden or displease them. And if you offend them—if you make the mistake of disturbing them on their Olympus —they swoop down upon you, bringing death—the death which they know, a bitterness which lasts, which is felt forever.
Ixion: We can still die.
The Cloud: No, Ixion. They will turn you into a kind of shadow, a shade that wants to live but never dies.
(completed at link) https://sysprv.com/leuco.html