Within the dwindling glow of light from languid lamps, Sunk in the softest cushions soaked with heady scent, Hippolyta lay dreaming of the thrilling touch That spread apart the veil of her young innocence. ...
Do you, as I do, know a zesty grief, And is it said of you, 'curious man!' I dreamed of dying; in my spirit's heat Desire and horror mixed, a strange mischance; ...
Off in a perfumed land bathed gently by the sun, Under a palm tree's shade tinged with a crimson trace, A place where indolence drops on the eyes like rain, I met a Creole lady of unstudied grace. ...
Viens-tu du ciel profond ou sors-tu de l'ab'me O Beaut'? ton regard, infernal et divin, Verse confus'ment le bienfait et le crime, Et l'on peut pour cela te comparer au vin. ...
It was in her white skirts that he loved to see her run straight through the branches and leaves, gracefully, but still gauche, and hiding her leg from the light,...
I love the naked ages long ago When statues were gilded by Apollo, When men and women of agility Could play without lies and anxiety, And the sky lovingly caressed their spines,...
I love the thought of ancient, naked days When Phoebus gilded statues with his rays. Then women, men in their agility Played without guile, without anxiety, And, while the sky stroked lovingly their skin,...
I love you as I love the night's high vault O silent one, 0 sorrow's lachrymal, And love you more because you flee from me, And temptress of my nights, ironically You seem to hoard the space, to take to you...
I've not forgotten, near to the town, our white house, small but alone: its Pomona of plaster, its Venus of old hiding nude limbs in the meagre grove, and the sun, superb, at evening, streaming,...
I adore you, the nocturnal vault's likeness, o vast taciturnity, o vase of sadness: I love you, my beauty, the more you flee, grace of my nights, the more you seem, to multiply distances, ah ironically,...
Souvent, pour s'amuser, les hommes d''quipage Prennent des albatros, vastes oiseaux des mers, Qui suivent, indolents compagnons de voyage, Le navire glissant sur les gouffres amers. ...
The great-hearted servant of whom you were jealous, sleeping her sleep in the humble grass, shouldn't we take her a few flowers? The dead, the poor dead, have griefs like ours,...
Free man, you'll love the ocean endlessly! It is your mirror, you observe your soul In how its billows endlessly unroll Your spirit's bitter depths are there to see. ...
Late autumns, winters, spring-times steeped in mud, anaesthetizing seasons! You I praise, and love for so enveloping my heart and brain in vaporous shrouds, in sepulchres of rain.
Autumn's last days, winters and mud-soaked spring I praise the stupefaction that you bring By so enveloping my heart and brain In shroud of vapours, tomb of mist and rain. ...
When, sullen beauty, you will sleep and have As resting place a fine black marble tomb, When for a boudoir in your manor-home You have a hollow pit, a sodden cave, ...