LXXIII. The Barrel of Hate - Transversion from The Crown of Pain - Les Fleurs du Mal

                                                                             

LXXIII. – The Barrel of Hate

Vengeance temporarily is distracted by a woman’s strong arms

Holding up the mythic Barrel of the Danaid’s,

Precipitating into the void of darkness

Bearing bucketloads of blood and all the tears of the dead.

The demons wove discreet holes into the veils covering the abyss

Where a thousand years of their sweat and effort have flown,

Wherein they would somewhere roam

Resuscitating the dead only to bleed them out again.

Hatred is like a drunk in the backroom of some bar

Who always senses a latent oncoming thirst

Multiplying like the Hydra-headed beast of Lerna.     

  

                                  But happy drinkers know and recognise their conqueror,

                  

                                       While all Hate is doomed to its lamentable faith

              

                                           Never knowing when to let sleeping dogs lie.