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. ...
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...
Carrying bouquet, and handkerchief, and gloves, Proud of her height as when she lived, she moves With all the careless and high-stepping grace, And the extravagant courtesan's thin face. ...
How many times must I jingle my little bells And kiss your ugly forehead, shabby substitute? How many, 0 my quiver, spears and bolts to lose Trying to hit the target, nature's mystic self? ...
We will have beds imbued with mildest scent, And couches, deep as tombs, in which to lie, Flowers around us, strange and opulent, Blooming on shelves under the finest skies. ...
It is death that consoles and allows us to live. Alas! that life's end should be all of our hope; It goes to our heads like a powerful drink, And gives us the heart to walk into the dark; ...
You are a sky of autumn, pale and rose; But all the sea of sadness in my blood Surges, and ebbing, leaves my lips morose, Salt with the memory of the bitter flood. ...
Sometimes it seems my blood spurts out in gobs As if it were a fountain's pulsing sobs; I clearly hear it mutter as it goes, Yet cannot find the wound from which it flows. ...
Now it is nearly time when, quivering on its stem, Each flower, like a censer, sprinkles out its scent; Sounds and perfumes are mingling in the evening air; Waltz of a mournfulness and languid vertigo! ...
O fleece, billowing down to the shoulders! O curls! O perfume charged with languor! Ecstasy! To populate love's dark alcove, With memories sleeping tonight in your hair,...
In sinuous coils of the old capitals Where even horror weaves a magic spell, Gripped by my fatal humours, I observe Singular beings with appalling charms. ...
When I watch you go by, in all your indolence, To sound of instruments within the echoing hall Suspending your appeal of lingering harmony, And showing in your glance the ennui of your soul; ...
Twisting and writhing like a snake on fiery sands, Kneading her breast against her corset's metal bands, The woman, meanwhile, from her mouth of strawberry Let flow these fragrant words of musky mystery:...
Oh moon our fathers worshipped, their love discreet, from the blue country's heights where the bright seraglio, the stars in their sweet dress, go treading after you, my ancient Cynthia, lamp of my retreat, ...
O shadowy Beauty mine, when thou shalt sleep In the deep heart of a black marble tomb; When thou for mansion and for bower shalt keep Only one rainy cave of hollow gloom; ...
The Moon more indolently dreams to-night Than a fair woman on her couch at rest, Caressing, with a hand distraught and light, Before she sleeps, the contour of her breast. ...
City of swarming, city full of dreams Where ghosts in daylight tug the stroller's sleeve! Mysteries everywhere run like the sap That fills this great colossus' conduits. ...