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Let us now imagine Socrates' great Cyclops' eye--that eye which never glowed with the artist's divine frenzy--turned upon tragedy.
试设想苏格拉底的巨灵之眼凝视着悲剧，可是这眼中并无艺术灵感的醉心狂热的光辉；
Bearing in mind that he was unable to look with any pleasure into the Dionysian abysses, what could Socrates see in that tragic art which to Plato seemed noble and meritorious?
试设想他的眼未尝愿意以愉快的心情来观照醉境的深渊；——那么，它在柏拉图之所谓“崇高而又极受赞美的”悲剧艺术中定必只能窥见甚么呢？
Something quite abstruse and irrational, full of causes without effects and effects seemingly without causes, the whole texture so checkered that it must be repugnant to a sober disposition, while it might act as dangerous tinder to a sensitive and impressionable mind.
显然是一种有因无果，有果无因的，不合理的东西罢了；况且，一切悲剧是这样杂乱无章，它对于爱好沉思的人定必引起反感，而对于多愁善感的心灵，定必是危险的火种。
We are told that the only genre of poetry Socrates really appreciated was the Aesopian fable.
我们知道，苏格拉底只能了解一种诗——伊索寓言，
This he did with the same smiling complaisance with which honest Gellert sings the praise of poetry in his fable of the bee and the hen:
而这种诗他无疑是带着微笑的默许来欣赏的，正如在“蜜蜂和母鸡”这寓言中老好人格尔伯特赞美着诗歌那样：
Poems are useful: they can tell
从我你看到了，多么有利；
The truth by means of parable
对着没有多大知识的人，
To those who are not very bright.
用一个寓言来说明真理。
