Total Pageviews

Saturday, December 28, 2019

XLIX - The Poison - From Baudelaire's Crown of Pain - Fleurs du Mal - Transversion










XLIX. – The Poison


Wine can often redress the most sordid dive
With its miraculous luxury and re-invigorate,
 More so than any fabled gateway,
Through the alchemy of its reddish vapour
Like a Sun setting in the nebulous sky.

Opiates can broaden the expanse of any borders,
Further infuse the unlimited,
Deepen time, aid the voluptuary,
And further enhance the dark and mournful pleasures
Which the soul mirrors at full capacity.

But all of this is nothing compared to the poison which flows
From your eyes, your emerald eyes,
Those twin lakes which further unhinge one…
Causing my dreams to escalate in a screaming riot
To desalinate the bitter gulfs which encroach.

Again, all of this is nothing to the atrocious prodigy
Of the saliva parting from your lips,
 Through your parting kiss, remorselessly
Infecting to the point of a hallucinatory vertigo
The defective roulette played out on this tide of Death.

No comments:

Post a Comment