Flowers of Evil | Page 9

some pagan caves,
To soothe their
burning fevers unto thee they call
O Bacchus! who all ancient
wounds and sorrow laves.
And others again, whose necks in scapulars delight,
Who hide a whip
beneath their garments secretly,
Commingling, in the sombre wood
and lonesome night,
The foam of torments and of tears with ecstasy.
O virgins, demons, monsters, and O martyred brood!
Great souls that
mock Reality with remorseless sneers,
O saints and satyrs, searchers
for infinitude!
At times so full of shouts, at times so full of tears!
You, to whom within your hell my spirit flies,
Poor sisters yea, I love
you as I pity you,
For your unsatiated thirsts and anguished sighs,

And for the vials of love within your hearts so true.
The Death of the Lovers
We will have beds which exhale odours soft,
AVe will have divans
profound as the tomb,
And delicate plants on the ledges aloft,

Which under the bluest of skies for us bloom.

Exhausting our hearts to their last desires,
They both shall be like
unto two glowing coals,
Reflecting the twofold light of their fires

Across the twin mirrors of our two souls.
One evening of mystical azure skies,
We'll exchange but one single
lightning flash,
Just like a long sob replete with good byes.
And later an angel shall joyously pass
Through the half-open doors,
to replenish and wash
The torches expired, and the tarnished glass.
The Death of the Poor
It is Death that consoles yea, and causes our lives
'Tis the goal of this
Life and of Hope the sole ray,
Which like a strong potion enlivens
and gives
Us the strength to plod on to the end of the day.
And all through the tempest, the frost and the snows,
'Tis the
shimmering light on our black sky-line;
'Tis the famous inn which the
guide-book shows,
Whereat one can eat, and sleep, and recline;
'Tis an angel that holds in his magic hands
The sleep, which ecstatic
dream commands,
Who remakes up the beds of the naked and poor;
'Tis the fame of the gods, 'tis the granary blest,
'Tis the purse of the
poor, and his birth-place of rest,
To the unknown Heavens, 'tis the
wide-open door.
2 RTEXTR*ch
from http://www.dertz.in/