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; ...
Beneath a broad grey sky, upon a vast and dusty plain devoid of grass, and where not even a nettle or a thistle was to be seen, I met several men who walked bowed down to the ground....
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. ...
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,...
Is it not pleasant, now we are tired, and tarnished, like other men, to search for those fires in the furthest East, where, again, we might see morning's new dawn, and, in mad history,...
Hate is the cask of the Dana'des; Vengeance, distraught, has red and brawny arms, With which she hurls into her empty dark Buckets of blood and tears from dead men's eyes. ...
Come, my fine cat, to my amorous heart; Please let your claws be concealed. And let me plunge into your beautiful eyes, Coalescence of agate and steel.
When my leisurely fingers are stroking your head...
The Clock! a sinister, impassive god Whose threatening finger says to us: 'Remember! Soon in your anguished heart, as in a target, Quivering shafts of Grief will plant themselves; ...
How penetrating is the end of an autumn day! Ah, yes, penetrating enough to be painful even; for there are certain delicious sensations whose vagueness does not prevent them from being intense; and none more keen than the perce...
How bittersweet it is on winter nights To hear old recollections raise themselves Around the flickering fire's wisps of light And through the mist, in voices of the bells. ...
In a rich land, fertile, replete with snails I'd like to dig myself a spacious pit Where I might spread at leisure myoid bones And sleep unnoticed, like a shark at sea. ...
"Cemetery View Inn" "A queer sign," said our traveller to himself; "but it raises a thirst! Certainly the keeper -o f this inn appreciates Horace and the poet pupils of Epicurus. Perhaps he even apprehends the profound philosop...
In a perfumed land caressed by the sun I found, beneath the trees' crimson canopy, palms from which languor pours on one's eyes, the veiled charms of a Creole lady.