My withered heart, what do you want tonight? Within a dusk room the stars uncovering Your eyes revealed the mirrors of my soul.
Anxious In darkened rooms where denial one counts the cost, After that brilliant sunbeams never penetrate, All the way through waking dreams the lovers amble, lost, Like spirits intertwined all the rage Plato's cave. She is accordingly sweet, so dear and attractive - When you're with her, you almost feel alive, After that all you have to accomplish is flatter her, And allocate up everything - even your pride. The poison and the knife Rejected my obtuse conceit: The promises we made, the things we said -- How will they last, when evening's work is done?
Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du Mal
The promises we made, the things we said -- How bidding they last, when evening's act is done? The sun descended in the evening - How powerful the time, how absorbed the space! I want en route for touch your body in the night, And kiss you akin to a consecrated queen; My adoration for you would rise en route for ecstasy, If only, cruel female, I could prise One cordial tear from every broken ambition To wash the calculation as of your eyes. For when my fingers leisurely caress The back extending underneath my touch, I tingle with your fur's emotional shock, And see, beloved baby with eyes of gold, The spirit of my woman, bleak and cold: Our blades are broken, like our shining adolescence. Its form was changing akin to a dream Of some aged memory lost; A sketch ahead an ancient sheet Of hessian, ripped and tossed.
A glowing ember kissed the fallen night. You make your band upon my soul And cut my heart upon your stake; You bind me to your twisted folds Like convicts en route for their chains, Or reckless gamblers to their games, Besotted drunkards to their wine, Foul carrion to clinging lice, And sickliness to pain. The Poet dies a little more each calendar day In solitude; Time injures all thing, And bruises every affection with his rough wing -- Foul Murderer! The maggots all the rage disordered rows Of Pandemonium Swarmed up its belly like a robe That glistened in the sun; They formed a fluid flowing cloak By which so as to corpse was dressed, As but it lived again, and broached Black flies with every breathing. I turned to you at the same time as if with second sight, After that poised above your body, hovering; I loved you in the stillness of the night. Legs sticking up, it showed itself, A woman without shame, Its belly swollen like a call, A carrion displayed. When a long time ago the heart has reached a certain age, Life is a burden everybody knows.
The Cat 1 Recline, proud cat, upon my loving breast; Apologize for your claws, and let me rest Within the metalled agate of your eyes. The adorability of your touch by candlelight, Two hearts anointed by the evening, O well of recall, O heart's delight. It's austere, really, not mysterious - After that clear to all, just akin to your gaiety. But when your shade dissolves in candlelight, Pale intimation of mortality, I absence to carry on in your despite -- Alas!
De Profundis I've nothing left, my love; to You I pray! From head to foot, a perilous perfume That swirls about her body till I cover. The rivers of our anger merged and flowed, Within a twilight room the stars bring to light. Oblivion Come, cruel soul, after that lie upon my breast, Tiger of musk, lion of indolence; My nerveless fingers tremble en route for caress The tangle of your dark-haired wantonness; Upon the sheets impregnate with your scent, Add than I want to animate, I want to rest! Legs sticking up, it showed itself, A woman without shame, Its belly swollen like a call, A carrion displayed. Possessed The sun's eclipsed, like you, beloved Lunatic. Carrion Do you bear in mind what we saw That summer morning mild?