A Dream

Tonight, the sky is blue as a sapphire.
The moon of crimson jasper slowly soars
Behind the cedar trees. The open doors
Of my warm house lead to a dulcet fire.

And, lazy as the stars, my peaceful eyes
Gaze at the pleasant garden where you sit,
Adorned by radiant flowers and moonlit
Beneath your wondrous look and the bright skies.

I softly take your hands and walk with you
Into my perfumed chamber, where the scent
Of opium rises, drowsy, sweet and matt...

I love you for your soft and mellow hue,
For you are dreamy and iridescent,
Beauteous and silent as a poet's cat...

Variations

At times, my heart is frail as crystal glass.
A rush of wind may break it into flakes,
That, sprinkled on the ripe, leaf-covered grass,
Will soon be cruelly drawn by reckless rakes.

At times, my heart tolls like the morning bronze,
That fills the dewy air, those mystic bells!
Or, taken by the beauty of the swans,
It falls into bright dreams, deeper than wells...

But if I saw you, love, among the crowd,
Your silent feline steps down the cold lane,
I'd see, between wild crows, a gentle dove,

And then, my heart would rave, and cry out loud
Wild songs of desperation, chimes insane:
Such are the variations of my love.

Wisdom

Young Hippasus was wise beyond his years,
And wise beyond the years of any man.
One evening, his bright lover, Liliane,
Said: "Love, as the last sunbeam disappears,

And, muffled in a shroud of twilight mist,
The moon glides soft and graceless overhead,
I hesitate. How may we not desist
To seize the light of life, and make our bed

Of flowers, to lie silently and blessed,
When light itself's so bashful and unsure?
This dewy dimness, truly, I deplore".

Quoth Hippasus: "The Sun finds peace and rest.
An abstruse sea of liquid is his cure.
I pray: quaff your red wine, and mourn no more!"

The Vessel

The vessel of my love is young and pallid
And knows not the profoundness of the seas.
It gently floats, blown by a mournful breeze,
Beside the sleeping shore. A doleful ballad,

Brought by a lone and faint nostalgic tide,
Fondles the yearnful sails, silken and sweet,
Who long to meet the grand, voluptuous fleet.
The mouldy ancient forest sleeps beside.

One day, a radiant goddess, dressed in foam,
Will rise above the ripples and deplore
Such wretched solitude. Freed by her hands,

The sails will meet the whirlpools and the lone
Vastness of seas, abysms wild and sore,
And cry for sweet nocturnal moonlit sands...

Nepenthe

I kept my dreams inside a broken phial
And lit the mouldy incense on the ground.
My dreams took wings and fled, and, through the aisle,
The incense spread out dim smoke all around.

I sat beneath the old and verdant oak,
I seized a bunch of lilies in my hand,
And fell deeply asleep. When I awoke,
Their withered leaves were scattered on the sand.

I quaffed the waters from the limpid lake,
Whose white nenuphars float among the reeds,
And felt an ardour down inside of me.

I lower my head as in a lonesome wake.
And, when I've sown all my cancerous seeds,
A shadow will erase my memory.

Tellus Mater

Unendingly in love with our distress,
The Earth, tremendous beast of slime and stones,
Unveils Her sordid heart, cries for our bones.
Her hungry heart is fire and wrathfulness.

How madly doth Her tongue, a gory flame,
Spew clouds of cinders from Her miry mouth!
She breathes a deathly wind, as, from the south,
The Siroc breathes hot death across the plain...

In verdancy and in waters may She thrive,
May orchards bud, may flaunty bluebirds soar!
And, neath our feet, may deathly angels hide,

For Death, Death is Her lover, whereas life
Is but Her sacrifice of mud and gore
To keep Her blasted Lover satisfied.